#'do you think she struggles with her mental health?' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turtletaubwrites · 2 days ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 36

Maybe I Have Gone Mad

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7.3k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Arrow Pierce My Heart ~ The Bonnevilles | Rabbit Hole ~ Why Mona

Summary: Your first date with the first born prince leads you to a hint of hope, yet it's hard not to focus on the first man that stole your heart. The Cross Guild tries not to fall through a hole in the world while the Emperor tries to be a villain. All they can do is hope that they're not too late to chase their little rabbit.

Ch. 35 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!

Author's Note: Hi! I miss y'all so much, I hope I can come back more regularly soon. I'm okay! Thank you for all the love and interactions even when I'm in hardcore hermit mode, I adore you so much! 🥰🙏

Dark Content Warning: I haven't marked any untagged dark content for this chapter. Hopefully I didn't miss anything big for you, but I will say that Iceburg is showing up more, so be prepared for reader's conflicting feelings for her first crush/hunter.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Chapter 35 ~ Recap:

Buggy dealt with guilt and fear over keeping your lie a secret. He watched Crocodile and Mihawk falling apart without their Numbers Girl, and decided not to tell them what you said to your sister: that you "never wanted to see those murderers, those monsters again."

Crocodile kept watching his sweet girl's worst memories while his old agents sailed closer. He saw a memory of you practicing speaking with a transponder snail in the asylum, but crumbling when your uncle called, taunting you by saying that your sister was sailing during storm season. Crocodile held onto his little clown while all of his lovers fell to pieces, and realized that he didn't care if they lied. He just wanted them back.

Mihawk fought to stay hopeful while he hunted for answers, but he kept finding reasons to be a monster while he followed the trail of underground casinos, and people that were using your pain for their pleasure and their pockets.

Shanks struggled, every move he made seeming to push you further away. He couldn't speak openly on this snail-covered island, but he wouldn't stop fighting for you.

You were trying to be numb, trying not to feel anything, but Uncle Cedrick kept tearing you down. You drank through your date with Giberson, then broke his arrow at Cedrick's command. You decided to enjoy your time as much as you could, but couldn't help thinking about the upcoming date with your first crush, Mr. Iceburg.

But that was tomorrow. Today, you were flown into a tower of roses with the first born Vinsmoke prince. Your old trauma snuck out when his brother almost hurt a surveillance snail, but now your date with Ichiji was about to begin.

You told yourself "that nothing mattered, so you might as well enjoy this."

Chapter 36 ~ Maybe I Have Gone Mad

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Oh my, it seems you’ve drained my pockets dry,” The Concealer chuckled, pushing the last of his chips toward Shanks’ pile. “And before our lucky lady has even emerged from her tower.”

The Emperor of the Sea gritted his teeth at the reminder of the distant image on the projector screen. Y/N had been flown into a tower of pretty thorns while the leeches around him placed bets on which of the three brothers she’d choose to keep, if her ugly dress would still be intact when they freed her from the roses, or if she’d be crying for mercy from that inhuman prince’s inhuman cock.

Y/N’s mask had shattered for just a moment, but the terror in her scream meant nothing to her guests. His wealthy companions had only praised or laughed at her for her concern for the cam-snail, most of them just lamenting that she hadn’t kept it with her in that cage of thorns.

“Mind accompanying an old man to his quarters,” Giberson interrupted his inner rage with a cheerful wink. “I need to restock my funds so I can keep filling your pockets.”

Shanks wanted to carry the old man to get out of that room before he snapped and nearly spat at the staff that stopped him from leaving the mound of chips he’d won.

“I’ll watch your winnings, chief,” Benn grinned, nudging him toward the ex-suitor that was hobbling out. “So long as you don’t mind buying me, and my new friend a drink?”

“Better be some left when I come back,” he forced a laugh, sparing just a glance toward the young woman his first mate had charmed into sitting on his lap. Benn had always been skilled at enjoying himself while he gathered information.

At least someone was having a good time here.

~~~🔴~~~

“Come on in, my boy,” Giberson welcomed, ushering Shanks into his opulent suite. “Care for a drink before you rob me of all my berry?”

“How could I refuse?”

Shanks’ body was burning with tension, his prey within his sights.

The old man set his tall hat onto the coffee table after pouring them each a glass, leaving Shanks to wait with the liquor in his hand. The great pirate was shaking.

Pull it together, shithead.

The tiny smile his thought had given him dropped in confusion when Giberson pulled out a small, horned snail from the inside of that large hat.

“Why– “

The Emperor of the Underworld tapped a bony finger over his lips, gesturing toward the snail until its eyes turned red.

The silent humming of surveillance that had become a constant itch faded away while the red-eyed creature swayed.

“A jamming snail,” Shanks breathed, tapping glasses with the smirking, old man.

“Congratulations, my boy. I really thought it would be Katakuri or Iceburg, but I was so hoping it would be you.”

Shanks couldn’t read his intentions, so he just sipped his drink.

“The mighty Red Haired Shanks is still cautious, eh,” Giberson laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as though he had no sense of caution himself. “That’s probably how you got to be so mighty. Don’t worry, I’ll answer any questions you have, and my little friend will keep our words quiet. Although, with all the surveillance here, my pet might not be able to hold up for too long. Best get started.”

“But why,” Shanks trailed off, fighting to wake himself up and get to work. It can’t be this easy…

“That lovely heiress would never pick an old ghost like me,” Giberson chuckled. He topped them both off before leaning back, eyeing Shanks with a satisfied grin. “I came to play the game, and I knew that whichever hunter found me first would be the one most determined to win. I may not have luck with cards, but I always bet on the winning horse. You really want to win that little bunny, don’t you, Shanks?”

The snail blinked slowly, and the Emperor of the Sea remembered that he had to breathe, had to fix this.

“Tell me about the Vinsmokes— wait,” he sputtered after he swallowed his liquor too fast, the rye whiskey burning his lips while he wasted more precious time. “Why did you think it would be Katakuri or Iceburg?”

Giberson’s patronizing laughter took too fucking long, but he cut Shanks off before he could hurry him up.

“You haven’t been paying attention, have you,” the Concealer chided. Topping off their drinks was the only thing that kept violence from tearing through the room. “Just wait. I’m sure our little doe is having fun with the young buck tonight, but you should be more worried about the older competition. Especially the one that she’s admired for so long.”

“Aren’t we on borrowed time, Gibby?” Shanks’ smile seemed to chafe his own lips. “Don’t you wanna give your chosen horse a fighting chance?”

“Too right you are,” he laughed, wiggling a finger in the air to scold himself. “The older you get, the more you like to hear yourself talk, I’m afraid, but let’s get on with it. You may be an emperor, but you’re going to need all the help you can get if you want to compete with that gentle giant, and the lady’s first crush.”

Shanks needed all the help he could get.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The handsome prince sat close enough to you to still watch your face, your breath, while trailing his hand along your back. Your heavy gown added to the building warmth in the dimly lit tower of roses he’d trapped you in.

Ichiji had eaten from the same serving plates, so you had filled your own, fighting off sleepiness while you sipped the cool champagne.

“So, it’s true that you worked at a bank, huh,” he purred. You fought to focus on his handsome face, and not the same old small talk you always hated.

“Mhm,” you nodded, nearly blowing out the pretty candle on the table, tired of its dancing light. “I know it was a unique hobby— “

“Vinsmokes aren’t useless royals, you know.” He pulled you toward his gaze with gentle fingers on your chin, pausing to stare at your parted lips before continuing. “If you enjoy being useful, I’m sure we can find responsibilities for you in our kingdom. It takes a lot of math to craft our tech.”

You couldn’t risk these feelings, couldn’t humor the slivers of hope for a decent life that you kept stumbling upon. All you could do was try to enjoy the ride and land in the softest place.

Kat wanted to see their tech… Maybe—

“But I wouldn’t mind pampering you if that’s what you’d prefer,” Ichiji teased along your cheek.

You’d gone still too long while you hoped for a less shitty existence, but it didn’t matter.

“My princess,” he seemed to beg, kissing down your neck before pulling away. That word had always pissed you off. It wasn’t true, whether it was said with love or disdain.

He pulled his glasses off, shoving red hair from his face to stare down at you. “Just tell me what you want, gorgeous. Anything… Do you wanna stop?”

“Why pick just one,” you breathed, watching confusion move those strangely cute eyebrows of his. Blowing out the candle instead of answering his questioning sound, you let yourself enjoy everything the moment had to give. “What if I’d like to be useful and pampered?”

You were glad for the other lights in the dim tower, because the hungry flare in his eyes when you kissed the inside of his wrist was delicious. The red-haired prince was shaking, nearly panting, and his need might have been frightening if you still gave a fuck about anything besides going numb.

“Can I please pamper you, princess,” Ichiji begged, his fingers gripping into your thick skirts. A puppy struggling to obey while it waited to snatch up its treat.

That word might be growing on you.

“Yes, please—Oh, Ichiji!”

The prince shoved the table away, dishes crashing to the ground along with that luckily blown out candle. He knelt at your feet, and you almost regretted your choice as the need in his eyes seemed violent. The tightening of your body only reminded you of how fucked up you were.

“You’re gonna look so pretty on a throne,” Ichiji threatened. His hands felt too strong when they lifted your dress, yanking your panties down your legs. He tucked them into his pocket, and you smirked, about to tease the desperate prince.

You couldn’t smirk, or tease, or do anything but moan and let your eyes roll back when his fingers found you dripping. He teased over you, circling your clit before shoving one, then two fingers in, curling, taking.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” the prince panted while he made you twitch. “I didn’t think you’d be so… You fucking want this, don’t you?”

You reached for his hair, wanting to be sure you were seeing him right. The prince looked more wrecked than you were.

“Ichiji,” you whined, coming when he brought his other hand to tease your clit, coming while he moaned along with you. His body thrust toward yours from where he knelt on the floor, but he managed to keep pampering you with his fingers while his eyes rolled back.

“Mm, Ichiji, that felt so good.”

The air that had been too hot went cold as the prince pulled away. His jaw was clenched, a tension in his body that made you still, until you remembered.

“That was so fucking hot,” you purred, trailing your hands along your thighs, and his eyes couldn’t seem to resist the pull.

“Yeah, princess,” he asked as he cleared his throat, still holding himself away.

“Yes,” you bit your lip. You hoped you were reading this prince well. “I love that you came just from touching me. You really liked making me feel good?”

A hint of a snarl touched his lips.

Fuck. Don’t be mad. Don’t—

“Does my princess want more,” Ichiji growled, and your body went loose with relief and delicious want.

Your breathy, ‘yes,’ left you squealing when that hungry prince launched himself at you. His red hair disappeared beneath that stupid dress, and you cursed the bells that rang closer and closer while he left sloppy, then focused kisses and licks along your core. You felt him whine around your clit before he pulled away, and the sight of him licking his fucking lips had you beaming at him.

“We’re gonna finish this later, right, gorgeous,” he teased, pointlessly smoothing your skirts into place.

“What would a princess say?”

“My princess can say whatever she wants,” Ichiji promised, his sticky clothes covered by his raid suit again, and soon you were carried through the circle of thorns toward his waiting brothers. They flanked him again, but you didn’t hear their light bickering now.

The wind teased your flushed skin, and he let you touch the top of another tree before you were brought back down. Down to reality, where you still had to think, instead of letting a handsome prince, or the lovely wind whisk you away. Daydreams of flying free brought a soft smile to your face while they kissed your hands, until you were stuffed into another fluffy robe and dragged back to your less-pretty cage.

~~~🌲~~~

Kat was waiting, letting out a soft sigh after she barked at the servants to leave you with her. The worry returned, but your sister started humming softly while she helped you out of that ugly gown, and you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Are you… happy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she ordered, but there was something in her narrowed eyes that woke you up. “I am capable of happiness, you know.”

Snorting earned you a scowl, but you’d seen it. All you needed.

“But I won’t be happy again until you are,” Kat declared, the words stated as a fact, like she was merely reciting the time.

Her voice said it so clearly, but her eyes held just a hint. Only a sister could have seen the light there.

The hope.

“So, how was your date?”

She frowned at your reaching hand, but didn’t stop you from snagging the lovely clue from her sweater.

“How was yours,” you teased, holding it up to the light. She made so many faces so quickly that you laughed, until she snatched it from you.

A strand of pretty, pink hair.

“It wasn’t a date, it’s not like that,” Kat lied, but you let her.

Your sister had never talked to you about that before, but you had come out to her ages ago. If she wasn’t ready, then you wouldn’t push her. You’d try really hard not to push her.

“Gods, you’re still annoying,” she sighed at the grin you couldn’t wipe off your face. “There’s not a lot for sisters of the stars to do, so we’ve been hanging out. We might be sister-in-law’s soon anyway.”

“Hanging out pretty close, huh,” you smirked, flicking your eyes toward the pink hair on her lap. She wiped it away to drift toward the plush carpet.

“Reiju didn’t have a spare set, alright,” Kat explained, anger barely covering the like quirk to her lips. “I told her I wanted to hover, so she flew me around for a bit. It was— “

“Fucking awesome, right,” you laughed, reaching for her hands now.

“I told you,” Kat gave in, matching your true smile now. “Unless someone else has hover boots, the Vinsmokes are my number one choice. Unless you really like someone else, I guess.”

“Well, I have three to choose from, so they’ve got a forty two point— “

“You fucking nerd!”

This wasn’t numb.

You hadn’t felt this feeling in years, and it was more than you deserved.

This moment felt like connection, like you were being a real sister to her.

It was fucking stupid. Naïve.

You couldn’t risk feeling happy or hopeful for either of you, just fight for the least shitty option. Weigh the pros and cons.

But if you could keep Kat safe, and give her a chance to be genuinely happy, then you’d slaughter every fucking person on this island to do it.

“Go take a shower, nerd,” she ordered, breathless from tackling you. “Your hair looks fucking stupid.”

~~~🌲~~~

No fucking favorites.

Mr. Iceburg…

You had shoved him out of your mind as much as you could, but waking up to the prospect of his undivided attention this evening reminded you of how sweet and soft obsession could feel. You had always wanted him.

Nothing matters anyway. If he is a monster, I can kill him too.

After.

~~~🌲~~~

You’d never been happier to be scowled at.

Kat sat across from you at breakfast, neither of you paying attention to the drivel that Uncle Cedrick and Vinsmoke Judge kept spoon-feeding each other. The other brothers were competition, so they weren’t invited. This left you with the eldest brother purring along your neck all morning, his constant praise and promises nearly becoming background noise.

Ichiji’s affection just couldn’t compete with the sisterly delight you felt watching Kat squirm beside the beautiful Vinsmoke princess.

The grace that Reiju held herself with was dreamy, somehow weightless, even without her hover boots. She’d shrugged off her red cape, but her pink hair seemed to sway in its place each time she moved, dancing along the high collar of her white dress. It seemed mimic the frilled shirts her brothers wore but hugged her body all the way down to her thighs. You couldn’t see them below the table now, but Reiju’s lovely thighs each held a large tattoo of the number six.

Reiju flaunted those numbers that sent fear through their enemies.

Germa 66. The conquering kingdom. This stunning woman came from a family that was said to be superhuman, vicious, evil.

Your sister had hardly touched her plate, too busy watching the possibly evil princess’ every move.

Bad guys aren’t always so bad…

“So, Y/N,” Reiju hummed, her fingers playing along the side of her empty glass, “you were a pirate, weren’t you? That seems like a lot more fun than— “

“Kidnapped by pirates,” your uncle corrected, not seeming to care if she believed him while he went back to glowing at his new “friend.”

“That could still be fun,” she winked at you before turning her gorgeous, violet eyes toward your sister. “What do you think, Kat? Would you rather have a pirate or a prince?”

Your sister glanced toward Uncle Cedrick, but he was too busy laughing at his own joke.

“Are those my only options,” Kat asked. Her voice was quiet but held enough of a flirtatious lilt that you had to look away to keep from cheering her on.

“Let’s hope not,” Reiju chuckled, and you let Ichiji distract you now, giving as much space as you could.

~~~🌲~~~

Another hunt was about to begin, and the locket didn’t fit the theme. You managed to shove it into the tight, striped dress before endless hands pulled and prodded at your skin, your hair, and your fucking sanity.

Regretting the question before it left your lips, you reminded yourself that these people were just trying to survive. They weren’t leeches, just tools and toys for the rich to control so they could keep living their pampered lives.

That was hard to remember while the servants dressed you up like a lamb to slaughter, but everything went back to him. Uncle Cedrick would never let you go. You would never be free from his games.

“Why are you painting stripes...”

Fuck. That fucking asshole.

“It’s part of today’s game,” your mother cooed. You were surprised that her perfect smile hadn’t shattered the mirror.

“Today’s hunt,” your corrected, daring her to falter, to let that mask fall just a bit.

That smile of hers grew sharper and a small part of you wondered what words she had swallowed down. The rest of you was fighting not to scream and claw at the servants that were painting lines across your chest to match that red and white dress. Those stripes were curved around a center point, a lovely, red heart painted over where your real heart was pounding with rage.

Don’t show it. Don’t let it in.

Sick laughter almost escaped, but you swallowed it down to return your mother’s sharp smile.

~~~🌲~~~

Vultures gasped in delight when you stepped into the courtyard. There were always so many eyes on you, but today felt like it was about to be a rough fucking day, and the wave of their laughter almost crushed you. Your body thrummed with the desire to pierce every single one of their greedy hearts until the white on your dress was stained red.

Uncle Cedrick had made you a target and painted you to match your fate, and his twisted pleasure was met with applause.

You had never wanted to be a monster. All these years you had tried to run, tried to hide from the words you’d been branded with.

Broken.

Sick.

Damaged.

Crazy.

Psycho.

Unwell.

Uncle Cedrick dragged you to the little stage, fingers pressing into your back until you smiled.

The strength it took not to snatch the arrow from his grasp and try to end as many leeches as you could before you disappeared was physically painful.

You had really thought that you were holding it together. You thought that you were strong enough to pretend.

But today was a rough day, and just standing there in that debasing dress was almost enough to make you tear at your hair, struggling against the disgusting, abhorrent feeling of living your fucking life.

Buggy.

It was just a name, a small, painful sound in your mind, yet it shifted the weight of your soul for a moment.

Your uncle’s words were white noise while you swallowed the lump in your throat. Kat’s concerned gaze caught yours from her spot at the Vinsmoke’s table, and you couldn’t let him win. If he broke you that deep, if you gave in to that rage, then the consequences would hurt more than just those you wished to end.

A twinge of resentment touched your selfish mind, but you forced yourself to breathe it out.

Just shut it off. Disappear inside.

Pretend.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Once again, Shanks fell in line beside his enemies. The Concealer had filled his mind with so many words, so many secrets and weaknesses, but not a single plan.

How could he plan when Cedrick Sylvad had his hands on her?

“Another hunter has failed the hunt,” Cedrick chided, and Shanks couldn’t keep his fingers from twitching when Sylvad pressed the point of an arrow to her heart.

Her lovely heart that this monster had painted a fucking bullseye on and encouraged his greedy friends to aim their weapons at.

“However, our little doe is so sweet that she wants to give each hunter one last chance,” he lied. Shanks had heard the leeches complaining while they lounged and bet on this game. Some wanted more drama, more romance, more tension.

Cedrick was giving his “friends” every twisted thing they wanted, and they adored him for it.

“One of you will still be going home, but she may change her mind on who depending on your next few words,” he teased as he stepped down from that moving platform. “Tell her why she should be yours.”

That fallen star was frozen, a perfect smile breaking his heart while she was lifted, gliding through the air until she reached the end of the line.

Vinsmokes.

All three of those cocky princes promised her a pampered life, and Shanks would have laughed at their weak attempts if he didn’t have three of them to deal with.

He held himself taut, needing to hear the next hunter’s every word, but Iceburg’s promises were hard to catch over the laughter beside him.

“Did you hear them, brother,” Cracker asked loudly, craning his neck to catch Katakuri’s gaze. “Didn’t we make their daddy cry his eyes out a month ago? How do they expect to protect our little bride when they can’t even—“

“Enough,” came that deep voice from above, but Katakuri was too late.

“Alright boys,” Cedrick scolded with a laugh while the Vinsmokes glared from behind their colored glasses. “That’s enough tension for today. My dear niece deserves a little romance before you sink your arrows into her.”

Glancing back at Y/N turned Shanks’ rage into icy fear.

Y/N’s smile looked just a little more real, and she hadn’t seemed to have heard her uncle’s words while she gazed up at the blue haired shipwright.

Iceburg kissed her hand after taking a mouse from her palm, tucking it into his pocket.

“I hope you don’t send me home before our date tonight, girlie,” Iceburg whined, “I don’t wanna leave before I show you your gift. It took so much work.”

She laughed.

Fuck.

The Emperor of the Sea watched helplessly while that star shined just a bit. She shined for someone else.

And she kept shining when the platform lifted her into the air.

“No matter what you choose, you are already mine,” the merman prince promised.

His voice sounded hushed, but it was too large to hide from the air. Fukaboshi kept softness in what could almost be a threat.

“I will do everything in my power to help you lead the joyful life that your kind heart deserves.”

If Y/N gave a reply, it was lost while the platform pulled her down, but she was still high enough for the Sweet Commander of the Big Mom pirates to gaze at her with those crimson eyes.

“I am meant to tell you why you should be mine,” Katakuri purred, tracing the side of her face with his large fingers, blocking the piece of her that Shanks could see from this angle. “But I want to be yours, Y/N. I want to be your family, and I hope that you’ll give me another chance to show you how much family means to me.”

“Thank you, Katakuri,” Y/N said, giving a small yelp when the platform pulled her away from another enemy Shanks would have to defeat.

“Cracker?”

Y/N waited for the other Charlotte to look her way, the man tilting his head up toward his elder brother before snapping back to her.

“You should keep me here so I can protect you from those spoiled princes down the line. They don’t care about family, and that makes them weak. If you choose—“

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone who—“

“Don’t worry hunters, you’ll have plenty more opportunities to test yourselves against one another. For now, I believe that our Emperor of the Sea still needs to say his piece,” Cedrick gestured to him before Y/N was set down before him.

She was so close.

Right there.

Lightyears and lightyears away.

There were so many things he ached to say, but Shanks wasn’t done playing the villain.

He pulled her off the platform, catching her against his chest when she stumbled. The crowd gasped in surprised titillation while Shanks held her chin to keep her gaze trapped on his.

The red-haired pirate was silent during his turn. Instead of imploring her to keep him, Shanks just stared down into those swirling depths.

There were noises and voices around them, but Shanks was drowning in her, drowning in his desperate need for her to wake up. He tried to look the villain, to convince her with his eyes, or to read anything from her, but all he could do was drink in that emptiness.

The nothingness she gave him nearly broke him. No one could carry all of this with such a lovely smile.

Unless she was already gone.

Finally, those cursed bells, and Cedrick’s entitled fingers, tore the shell of that shining star from his grasp.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

I knew those soft, brown eyes were a lie…

You couldn’t recall ever feeling grateful for Uncle Cedrick’s controlling touch, but anything was better than the cage that your enemy had cornered you in.

Disappearing was the only way you could withstand the force of that powerful pirate’s gaze.

Those eyes had held more than flirtation, desire, or anger. Shanks had let that mask fall away, letting the world watch the predator claim what was his. He was a greedy monster, and the chaos in his silent demand felt like walls closing in. You felt a sudden fear for your other buyers as the heat of his grip still seemed to burn into your skin.

Shanks isn’t just playing.

The Emperor of the Sea wanted to own you, and he was the kind of man that got everything he wanted, no matter what he had to do to get it. It was no wonder why Uncle Cedrick seemed to like him so much.

“Well, dear niece,” he called you back to the world, making you gasp when he broke the arrow beside you, pressing it into your palm. “Time to say goodbye. I wonder if these lovely promises were enough to change your vote…”

It seemed that the crowd of vultures was growing louder every day, but the heaviness in your next words was enough to drown them out.

“Prince Fukaboshi,” you called out with that practiced calm, your voice carrying through the courtyard until they shut the fuck up. The platform tore you from the ground, until you tried not to shake before this terrifying man that you could have been safe with.

This man that appeared to be the most monstrous of them all yet might be the only hero in this line of hunters.

His soft smile with those sharp teeth forced you to breathe. You couldn’t show favorites, not even at the end.

“I am sorry, Prince Fukaboshi,” you told the truth, dropping the splintered wood of the arrow into his massive palm. “I’m afraid that your arrow failed to pierce my heart.”

“It has been an honor to try,” he started, his brows furrowing when the platform began to lower before he finished his sentence. His deep voice rolled down over you until Uncle Cedrick guided you away from a life that might have been.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Doerena was a lovely, little kingdom.

Its smuggling ring was particularly delightful, although Mihawk didn’t care about the weapons, the drugs, or the power.

The swordsman only cared about the snails and the little rabbit that he was always too late to catch.

Mihawk had woken up too late. Changed too late.

The rage that gripped him every time he caught someone using Y/N for their own pleasure was a force of nature, cruel and mindless. It cracked open the ground beneath him, sucking everything into his destruction while he fell through a hole in the earth.

The swordsman cleaned his blade, ignoring the rest of his mess while he watched his love on the big screen.

His darling was smiling with a hideous target painted over her beautiful heart, but he swore that he had caught a hint of fight in those gorgeous eyes when her uncle brandished an arrow at her.

“We’ll paint it red, darling,” Mihawk promised while he watched his red-haired lover chase his little rabbit.

Mihawk promised endless red in that room that he’d already painted for her, his sword the only clean thing in sight. Promises were all he could give her while he waited for his chance.

I won’t be late.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Only three hunters had yet to have a private date, but that still left too many more days before Shanks could claim another for himself.

Another chance.

“All hunters are welcome to play,” Cedrick announced, charming the crowd, “but today’s prize will be claimed by a Vinsmoke or a Charlotte. Which one of you will pierce her heart?”

The Emperor of the Sea twirled an arrow in his fingers, ignoring the bow beside him while the other hunters prepped their shots.

“Pathetic, little boys can’t do shit without their fancy suits, huh?”

“Cracker,” his brother warned. Katakuri had sat this hunt out, offering his shadow to Y/N while she watched her hunters try to sink their arrows into her beautifully carved doppelgangers.

Those wooden dolls were painted with that matching bullseye over their hearts, but their perfect smiles had to be more real than the one on her lips.

“I wouldn’t need my suit to end a freak like you,” Niji sneered, leaning around his younger brother.

Cheers interrupted their tension and Shanks frowned up at the replay of one of those perfect dolls being perfectly shot through the heart.

Iceburg was annoyingly skilled with a bow.

“All these years of friendship and I never knew we shared a hobby,” Cedrick chuckled while the old shipwright pulled his shirt back on, disappointed sounds floating up from the audience at the act. “If you pierce my niece’s heart like that, we may have some family hunting trips to plan soon.”

“Ooh, but look at the prince,” one of the leeches called out until Yonji’s image filled the screen. The green-haired Vinsmoke lifted his chin, too proud of winning with his second place shot.

“At least the green shit has some energy. That prissy, blue boy is fucking worthless. Our cute, little bride already forgot about them, huh,” Cracker taunted too loudly, his overconfidence boiling over while he drew all eyes to his. “I bet she can’t even feel them after she’s had a Charllotte. Not unless they use their fancy toys.”

Cracker’s grin spread wide, thick and vicious across the screen until he got what he wanted. Niji had shoved past his younger brother, his crackling energy shattering a few graham cracker soldiers before the remaining brothers stopped the fight, and Cracker didn’t stop laughing until Katakuri loomed over him.

Shanks had taken the moment to show off, appearing between his little bunny and the would-be battle between failed hunters. Niji and Cracker were reigned in almost instantly, but the disappointment from the crowd reminded Shanks of what a show they were all trapped in.

“I am surprised we made it this far,” Cedrick chuckled as he took center stage again. “I wonder if anyone made a killing on these two being the first to fight…”

A smattering of groans left the crowd, with one voice lamenting the fact that they hadn’t put more berry down.

“Excuse me, Emperor,” he purred, grabbing Y/N’s wrist to guide her before the fighters. He snapped his fingers in the air, and a servant brought him two arrows in an instant, the tyrant beaming while he broke them over his knee. “I’m afraid you two have broken the rules, and it wouldn’t be fair to let you stay. Do you have anything you’d like to say to my dear niece now that you have failed to pierce her heart?”

Shanks fought not to let hope creep into his stupid, selfish heart while he watched two of his enemies disappear so easily.

Those two had never been a real threat.

“You like my brother, don’t you,” Cracker taunted, although his manic grin seemed more earnest than before. Y/N didn’t answer soon enough to stop the man’s next few words from spilling out. “Big brother likes you too. Don’t make me kill all these fuckers to make you my sister. I’ll make them suffer first, and—“

“Brotherly love,” Cedrick laughed while Katakuri dragged his cackling brother away, “and what about you, Prince Niji?”

The blue-haired prince stared at her for a long moment, too much satisfaction in his gaze.

“It’s alright. This little princess is coming home with us, aren’t you?”

“She’s coming home with me,” Yonji declared, kneeling to kiss Y/N’s hand. He was now the last hunter left without his first, private date.

Y/N gave the green-haired prince a lovely smile, and Shanks fought not to celebrate.

The day after tomorrow. Shanks could win another chance the day after tomorrow.

I just need one more chance.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

Dad’s fingers tapping on his desk might have distracted you if a certain someone hadn’t answered his call.

“How’s my favorite shipwright?”

“Mm, well, I’ll be better once the season passes,” Iceburg complained, and you chewed on your pencil while you fought off your grin at his deep voice. That silly whine of his came through your dad’s snail so clearly, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on your homework now.

You were good at pretending though, so you scribbled random numbers onto your notebook while your dad chatted with your favorite shipwright.

“Really,” your dad chuckled, “I thought storm season was good building time for you. You’ve already got another East Blue boat for us to look at, don’t you? Plus, that extra project?”

“Of course,” Mr. Iceburg assured while you imagined his lovely hands making lovely things. “You and our little numbers girl can swing on by after the season ends. Kokoro’s throwing Tom another execution extension party. Last year’s was—”

“I think the worst is past, don’t you,” your dad grinned, winking before you buried your face in your work again. “I might swing by for that little project soon, but we’ll be back for the party once Y/N’s out for spring break. If she gets good grades, of course.”

Sticking your tongue out at the tease saved you, because you would have swallowed it at Mr. Iceburg’s next words.

“I know she will. Y/N’s smarter than both of us, Arbo.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dad beamed, embarrassment heating your cheeks while you tried not to groan. “Thanks, Ice. I’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon, friend,” Mr. Iceburg scolded. “The season’s almost over.”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

It didn’t matter that his enemy seemed to be a good man. From everything Shanks had already known about the CEO of Galley La, and all he’d heard from the Concealer, Iceburg appeared to be a genuinely decent person. He was well-loved by his people, adored, and admired.

The only potential flaw he could find was that Iceburg was here.

“This is quite the boat, Mr. Iceberg. It hasn’t even been two weeks since the hunt started,” Shanks whistled, finally catching his enemy alone. “How’d you make this for our girl so fast? Or was it meant for another sweetheart?”

Staff were still milling about the edge of the lake, setting up tables so the leeches could dine while they watched this man steal her away.

The man in question stepped off the gorgeous, little sailboat, a slight crease to his brow before he answered the red-haired pirate.

“It wasn’t,” Iceburg noted with a smile when he looked back at his work. “I made this for Y/N a long time ago, with a little help from a friend.”

“Would that friend of yours be pleased about your date tonight,” Shanks taunted, leaning close to knock on the boat. “Last time I drank with Arbo, he wasn’t keen on the idea of his little girl with an older man.”

Iceburg hardly moved, but the shift was impressive, his eyes going as cold as his namesake while he assessed the man before him.

“I suppose we’re both bad friends then,” the shipwright drawled. He moved to walk around Shanks off the dock, glaring when the emperor stood in his path.

“A man in your position has a lot to lose here,” Shanks breathed, frustration and fury rising at the lack of fear showing in that icy gaze. “Everyone expects pirates to be the bad guys, but mayors? I don’t think your constituents will be too pleased about what you’re up to.”

Nothing. This man could hold himself quiet, and Shanks couldn’t risk using Haki to make him kneel.

“If you’re not going to attack me, please get out of my way.” Iceburg finally clenched his jaw, eyes flicking over Shanks’ shoulder toward the growing sounds of vultures. “I don’t want to keep my date waiting.”

“She’s leaving here with me,” the desperate pirate vowed, hissing while he let his enemy walk away.

“I don’t think she likes you very much, Emperor,” Iceburg arched a brow. Applause met the shipwright when he walked toward the show, both of their forms displayed across the projector screen while the snails captured the small boat, and the symbol of a tree framed by the sun painted on its sail.

Shanks stared at himself on the distant screen, his stupid hair too bright to try to sneak onto the ship with so many eyes on him now.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No, I…”

Fuck. The scarred man had been too frightening again.

His pretty clown left his bite of a too-syrupy pancake dangling over his plate when Crocodile interrupted him, shaking his head at all the breakfast’s for dinner he'd been having.

At least he's eating.

“You’re not ‘fine,” Crocodile attempted to soothe while he scolded, “you’ve hardly slept in days. I’ll watch over you if you like. Wake you up if you say anything interesting.”

Crocodile could hardly sleep himself. Not when he had more recordings of his sweet girl's torture to watch. Watching over Buggy pushed some of that useless rage aside, at least for a moment.

“Thanks… daddy.”

The guilt that was rotting through the clown’s bones had twisted today. He had already decided. It wasn’t even a question.

Buggy would do anything to save his star, even lie.

“I don’t like it if you don’t mean it,” Crocodile teased, finally breathing when his final, little lover cracked a smile for him.

“Sorry,” Buggy huffed a laugh, stretching so taut that his joints slipped apart.

Buggy would do anything to save her.

But what if she really…

“What do you—uh,” the clown cleared his throat, almost losing his voice before these words could meet the air. “If I told you she was happy, would you believe me? Would you leave her alone?”

The ice in Crocodile’s veins kept the rage from moving too fast.

“She’s with Iceburg, isn’t she?”

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Help me,” you begged, your voice high and desperate while you tried to calm your racing heart.

“You look amazing, sis,” Kat shook her head while you held up another dress against the midnight blue one you kept gravitating toward. This was the one time you wished that your outfit would be chosen for you, but Iceburg wanted you to "be yourself," so you were digging through piles of expensive fabric on your own.

Nothing felt right.

“You’re really excited about tonight,” she asked softly, and you flicked your eyes toward the staff in the corner, but they were far too professional to look like they were listening while they waited for you.

“I’m not sure,” you gave up, dropping heavy garments onto the back of the couch before sitting close. “He’s a hunter, and I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t…”

“If you want Mr. Iceburg, then I will cheer you on,” your sister whispered in your ear as she stood to give her seat to the makeup artist. “But if you don’t want him here, then I’ll go shove that mouse up his—”

You laughed so hard you choked, and Kat gave you her water to sip while she tilted her head, waiting for your answer.

“Leave the mouse alone, sis,” you beamed at her, letting yourself be dolled up for your favorite shipwright.

~~~🌲~~~

Mr. Iceburg was here. He was using you. He was a leech. A monster.

Repeating those truths like a mantra didn’t kill your stupid hope, your naive ache for that gorgeous, silly man to be anything but a vulture, here to pick the flesh from the carcass of his dead friend’s family.

No favorites. No least favorites.

You couldn’t school your features, couldn’t fix your fucking face when you saw it. You wished that you could hate him for tearing down your mask like this, but it was too beautiful, too perfect.

Drawn toward the docks, it felt like the world had disappeared. You were entranced, shrinking down and down until you touched that perfect ship in a bottle, one of the small works of art that your dad had spent so many hours on.

He’d spent so many hours telling you stories about sailing on those tiny boats, hours working out the travel time between your favorite places on a ship the size of a shoe.

Daddy had asked how you wanted this ship to look and had painted it just for you. This was the little boat that he promised you would sail to the top of the Sunlight Tree Eve someday, if you could just figure out the math. If you found the top of the Eve tree, you knew you could find an Adam tree too.

At least, you had believed that when you were playing, when dad was sharing his stories, his perfect toys.

You’d smashed that particular toy boat so long ago, stomping on that sail with the Sunlight Eve Tree. There had been no more sunlight to be found after your dad disappeared.

But here it was.

“There’s my numbers girl,” Mr. Iceburg hummed, leaning down to brush a dangerous tear from your cheek. “Wanna take a tour of your boat with me? Eve's been waiting a long time for you.”

Gentle fingers, rough from decades of his craft, reached for your hand. He offered you a chance to step into a dream, and the air around you felt timeless and soft.

Laughing to yourself, you followed your dream and his little mouse onto this ship in a bottle.

Maybe I have gone mad.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: My "all or nothing thinking" tells me that I shouldn't interact with y'all if I'm not posting chapters regularly. Brains are dumb. I won't promise that I can get back to my old schedule soon, but I really flippin want to. This entire story is constantly on my mind, as well as all the others I have planned that have to wait until the end. All of your support makes me so happy. Hopefully I'll see you very soon, either by answering old ass comments that I adore, or posting Chapter 37. I hope your dreams are lovely tonight 💜 ~ Lynna ✨

Chapter 37

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

27 notes · View notes

unequivocallyreid · 3 months ago

Text

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #fic rec #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #friends to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic rec

2K notes · View notes