#All You Ever Gave Me Were Scars (Morgan)

[benevolentbones]

Saw you're taking Reid requests👀 I could use some Spencer x Reader who is new at the BAU and is super clumsy and they just fall head over heels over each other and he gets protective over her and it's all super cutesy.

thank you sm for the request! i hope you enjoy! really tempted to do a part 2 to this !! requests still open<3 i’m working through them

clumsy | spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: mentions of injury, general clumsiness, cursing, gn!reader

word count: 1.3k ish

summary: you’re new to the bau and are just super clumsy.

you were damn good at your job. you were a great profiler. you were great on the field. and you were quick to complete your paperwork.

the only issue you had was, you were incredibly clumsy. and not in the cute ‘oops i dropped my pen’ kind of way, more so in the ‘injure yourself on the field’ sort of way.

take your first ever case for instance, you and your previous team had busted into an unsub’s apartment, and after catching the guy, on your way back out you tripped over his collection of cds causing you to take his whole bookshelf down with you. you ended up breaking your arm and couldn’t use your gun for twelve weeks.

but now, you had just started a new job at the bau, and you were hoping to put the clumsiness behind you.

“agent l/n, this is agent morgan.” hotch went around the bullpen, introducing you to the team.

you had met in his office earlier, he had given you a rundown on what to expect and as there was no new case as of present, he was introducing you to the team and then going to set you up with some paperwork to fill in.

“great to meet you agent l/n, i hope to talk more with you soon.” derek shot you a flirtatious smile as hotch brought you over to the last member of the team.

dr. spencer reid. the tall man was currently leaning gingerly against one of the counters by the kitchenette section of the bullpen, a mug of coffee in one hand and a case file in the other. he wore a blue button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, along with a navy blue waistcoat and trousers.

“reid” hotch began, striding up to the younger male, with you at his heels.

“this is agent l/n, they just transferred here.”

spencer’s eyes shot up from the pages he was studying, now flickering over the person who stood next to hotch.

you, alike him, had the sleeves of your black shirt rolled up, notably more messy than his neatly folded cuffs. you had your hands stuffed into the pockets of your black suit trousers, with a smile plastered on your face.

“agent l/n, like y/n l/n?” reid’s interest was piqued.

you gave the taller man a small nod “yeah that’s me.” you chewed on your cheek, rocking lightly back n forth on your feet.

“i’ve read about your work, you’re- excellent on the field. i look forward to working with you.” he shot you a closed mouth smile which you returned.

“hey hotch, can you come look at this?” penelope called out from across the bullpen.

the older male, inhaled before turning on his feet, leaving you and spencer alone in the kitchenette.

“didn’t you accidentally shoot yourself during your last case?” spencer quizzed, sipping his coffee. he distinctly remembered reading an article about your last case before you took some time off, you had caught the unsub and while trying to put your gun back in the holster, it went off.

you felt your face flush.

“um- yeah, that may have happened. but don’t tell anyone. i’m a little clumsy” you giggled out, lifting the right side of your shirt to show a gunshot scar just above your hip.

spencer inhaled sharply, not expecting you to show off the scar.

“ouch.” he hissed, imagining how it must have felt. “i’ll try and keep you from hurting yourself on the field next time.” his eyes met yours and he gave you a genuine smile.

~

you had been working with the bau team for a few weeks, and have grown close to everyone, especially spencer.

you had developed quite strong feelings for the brunette over the time you spent at work and out with the team, he was always so considerate of you. always checking in to make sure you were doing okay, making sure you felt comfortable with everyone. and unbeknownst to you, he felt the same.

at first he thought your mention of being clumsy was a cute quirk, maybe you would accidentally injure yourself once in a blue moon and blame it on that. but as he grew to know, and care for you, he found out it was a daily occurrence.

on your fourth or fifth day in the office, spencer had brought a cup of coffee to you, placing it down on your desk which was conveniently across from his.

you thanked him with a warm smile, picking up the ceramic cup and taking a sip. he settled down into his seat, and began reading his case files until.

“fuck!” you yelled out, causing a few glances to be thrown your way.

spencer stood up abruptly, scanning you to see what had happened.

along with dropping the mug onto the floor, which shattered, you had managed to fully drench yourself in the hot coffee spencer had just made for you.

he quickly ran over, grabbing some paper towels to help clean up the mess. you shot him a sad look, followed by a string of apologies.

“i didn’t mean to- i just knocked it off of the desk and-“

“it’s okay, y/n.” he smiled sweetly up at you, patting your leg with the paper towel.

the next day, spencer had gifted you a resilient travel mug with a closing top.

~

the day came where you had an out of state case, the team all sat around the table for the briefing. spencer at your side in one of the desk chairs.

you had a habit of fidgeting during long meetings, you simply couldn’t help it, which spencer had noticed the first time you all had a lengthy briefing.

you were playing with your fingers, scratching at your nail beds until a warm hand gripped yours.

you glanced over to see spencer’s arm outstretched, his lightly callused hand now gripping yours gently. his focus didn’t stray from hotch, who was explaining the case, but you could notice a light pink hue to his cheeks.

you smiled to yourself, resting back into your chair. spencer interlocked his fingers with yours, gently pulling your desk chair closer to his, and for the rest of the briefing you both remained in each others grasp.

“wheels up in 10.” hotch announced, causing everyone to jolt out of their respective slumped positions.

the team made their way out to the jet, you and spencer in tow. you slung your to go back over your shoulder, spencer a few steps behind you.

everyone else had boarded at this point, and they were just waiting on the two youngest members of the team.

“y’know i’ve never been to colorado- i heard its really cold this time of year.” you hummed out, starting to climb the steps up to the jet.

spencer was listening to you intently, he liked when you rambled about things it made his heart swoon when you talked about how excited you were.

“hey just- be careful okay?” he mumbled, watching your careless steps.

“yeah yeah i’ll be fine spence.”

you adjusted the strap on your bag, looking over your shoulder to make another comment about the trip. bad idea.

as you went to place your foot onto the next step, you completely missed it, causing you to topple backwards.

spencer, who was behind you, was mentally preparing for this the whole time. he immediately stretched his arms out, gripping onto your falling form. he wrapped one arm around your waist, using his other hand to grab onto the railing to balance you both.

you locked eyes with him, faces practically inches apart.

“t-thanks, that would’ve been close.” you could feel your face burning.

a smug smile graced reid’s features, his grip on your waist not faltering.

“falling for me already, l/n?” he chuckled, eyeing your features. you grew more embarrassed, the tips of your ears burning.

he just wanted to lean in and kiss you, and he would have but you were interrupted.

“reid, l/n- we are taking off now come on.” hotch yelled out from inside the jet.

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

[gingiesworld]

Hello, My Love

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: This is the second part to Goodbye, My Love. I hope you guys enjoyed this and please let me know what you thought of it. <3

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @alexawynters @natleft (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Five years ago, the riot that had occurred within the prison was broadcasted over every news station. Reports of multiple inmates and Prison Guards were dead, there were more reported injuries. Wanda called Pepper, hoping to hear that she would never get the bad news, which she never did receive the bad news.

Five years, she carried on writing to them, telling them everything that had happened during her week, even telling them about the sucky dates that Nat kept setting her on. She even told them about her last interaction with Jarvis, that was only a few months ago.

“Wanda?” He smirked as they bumped into each other, Wanda tensed up at the sound of his voice. “How is Y/N? I’ve been meaning to visit them, congratulate them on making it to the NFL.” But then he chuckled. “But they never had the chance did they? Because they took the fall for you.”

“Please leave me alone.” Wanda whispered as he just laughed.

“Not so brave without a gun are we.” He sneered as she looked away from him. “It should be you in their place, you should be the one serving time for almost killing me.” Wanda just shook her head and walked away from him, the sound of his laugh remained in her mind for weeks after that.

But what she didn’t know was Y/N was now getting out on good behavior. They walked through the gates, seeing Nat leaning against her car, a smile on her face as she saw her oldest friend.

“Hey.” They gave her a small smile as she opened her arms for them.

“Hi.” She embraced them tightly, afraid to let go with the fear that they might disappear. “Let’s get you home.” They walked to the passenger side and got in, watching the roads as they passed by.

“How’s everyone been?” They asked her.

“Well, Morgan is now a troublesome teen. She missed you so much, the same as your mom.” She told them. “Oddly enough, your dad has tried to help get your release finalised sooner.” She noticed their shocked expression. “I know, I almost died too.”

“What about Wanda?” They asked her as she nodded, a tight lipped smile on her face. “She’s been sending me letters ever since I stopped her or anyone visiting me.”

“I know.” Nat told them. “She told me, she also told me you never replied to any of them.”

“I have written her letters.” Y/N told her. “I have them all here, but I just couldn’t send them to her.”

“Why?” Nat questioned as they looked out of the window.

“I wanted her to be able to move on, even if it meant that I was the one to let her go.” They admitted. “She knows how much I love her and I wanted her to live her life without ever thinking of me again.”

“It didn’t work though.” Nat started as Y/N nodded with a light chuckle.

“It didn’t, she told me about all of the dates you set her up on.” They spoke as they watched the road ahead. “She told me how she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than one date with any of them.”

“Because she is in love with you.” Nat told them. “She just realised it too late, and you were too much of a coward to tell her.”

“I know.” They nodded. “I just couldn’t deal with losing her if she never felt the same way.”

“I know.” She nodded as they soon reached New York. Their heart started to beat rapidly as they realised that they don’t look the same as they did a decade ago, they have scars and look worn out compared to how they used to look.

“What if no one likes me now?” Y/N questioned as Nat chuckled.

“Believe me, everyone has missed you so much Y/N.” She told them. “Well, except Jarvis.”

“Please tell me he has finally moved away.” They groaned as Nat shook her head no.

“I’m afraid not.” She told them as she pulled into the Stark Mansion driveway.

“Fuck.” They muttered as they looked up at the place they called their home. “It looks even more intimidating now.”

“Yeah.” Nat laughed as she got out, followed by Y/N as they grabbed their bags, following Nat up the stairs to the door.

“Nat?” Pepper questioned as she answered the door.

“Mom?” Y/N smiled as they looked over Nat’s shoulder.

“Y/N?” She gasped as Nat moved to the side, taking Y/N’s bags and heading inside. “You’re home?”

“I’m home.” They told her, a smile on their face as she cupped their face, getting a proper look at them.

“You look rugged.” She told them.

“Yeah, I need to cut my hair.” They admitted as she shook her head

“I think you suit it.” She told them. “Come on, Morgan will be excited to see you.” She led them inside, listening as Morgan and Yelena were talking about their homework. “Morgan, look who’s here.” She told her as she let go of Y/N’s hand, Morgan’s eyes instantly landing on theirs.

“Y/N?” She squealed as she jumped up into their arms, Y/N chuckled as they caught her.

“Oh god.” Y/N hugged her close before letting her go. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Well, it has been 10 years now.” She reminded them as their heart broke a little.

“I missed you little one.” They told her softly as she hugged them tighter than before.

“Promise you won’t leave me again.” She whispered shakily.

“I’m not going anywhere.” They told her honestly. “I promise.”

“Come eat.” Pepper told them as Morgan led them into the dining room, Morgan catching Y/N up on everything they missed.

“You should have seen dad’s face when he found out that I wanted to be a writer.” Morgan told them with a smirk. “I thought he was going to pop a vein or something.”

“Well, he wasn’t happy that you were straying away from the family business.” Pepper stated.

“Just like he wasn’t happy with me when I strayed away from his dreams.” Y/N remarked as Pepper sighed, both Morgan and Nat remained silent. “Where is dad and Jarvis? I would have thought they could have been here, you know it has been 10 years after all.”

“Y/N, you know why your father isn’t here, same with Jarvis.” Pepper warned them.

“Yeah, they’re not happy because Wanda returned the ring when he was in the coma.” Morgan smirked as Nat and Y/N chuckled lightly.

“Your father and brother were devastated!” Pepper raised her voice. “Wanda would have been a fine addition to this family.”

“No.” Y/N shook their head. “She was too good for him.” Pepper went to interrupt but Y/N stopped her. “You know it too mom, Jarvis isn’t a nice guy, he never has been.”

“Y/N, he has changed.” She tried as Y/N snorted.

“And hell has frozen over.” Y/N remarked as Pepper shook her head in disapproval.

“Are you going to tell Wanda your back?” Nat questioned as Y/N tensed up.

“I don’t know.” They answered. “I have her letters there in my bag, but I don’t think she will want to see me.”

“She will.” Morgan told them. “She has been coming around to see how you are, if there has been any news.”

“She hasn’t moved on.” Nat told them. “I’ve tried to get her to go on dates and meet someone, just so she has someone and she doesn’t get past the first date.”

Y/N listened to them as they informed them of how Wanda has spent the last decade, how she has kept hope that she would see Y/N again, be with Y/N and have a future with them.

“Can you take me to Wanda’s?” Y/N asked Nat who only nodded with a smile.

“Let’s go then.” She told them, they kissed both Morgan and Pepper on the head before grabbing the bag with the letters for Wanda, and following Nat out to her car.

“How do you think she’ll react?” They asked her nervously.

“Well, I don’t really know.” Nat answered them. “She was furious that you did what you did for her. There was a brief moment she hated you but we all know she can’t hate you.” She sighed as she pulled up outside of Wanda’s building. “To be honest, she may be mad, she may be happy. It could go either way really.”

“That helps Natalia, really.” They spoke sarcastically as the two got out of the car. They followed her up the stairs to Wanda’s floor, wanting to take as much time as they could before seeing the woman they had failed to forget during their time in prison.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” Wanda asked as she answered the door to her, Y/N leaned on the wall as they heard her voice for the first time in years. Their heart beating rapidly in their chest as their nerves had gotten worse.

“Someone wanted to see you.” Nat told her. “They haven’t really stopped thinking about you or asking about you all day and it is kind of annoying.”

“You should have come later. I have company.” She told her with a raised brow.

“Is it Stu?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, he is just in the shower.” Y/N dropped the bag of letters on the floor as Nat noticed their expression falter before they started towards the exit.

“Well, I will want to hear all about it, but these are for you.” Nat handed her the bag of letters before she hurried after Y/N, she reached them as they leaned against the car waiting for her.

“You told me she wasn’t seeing anyone.” They told her sadly as Nat sighed.

“I thought she wasn’t, I set them up a couple of weeks ago and I never thought she would actually see him again because she never does.” Nat told them as they stepped away from the car.

“I’m going to walk home.” They told her as they stepped away. “I need to be alone right now.”

“Y/N, you’ve just got out, let’s celebrate.” Nat tried as they shook their head.

“Maybe it would have been better if I never survived the riot five years ago.” They told her.

“No.” She scolded them. “You do not get to say that! We have been friends forever and I hated the last decade! I hated it because my friend wasn’t here with me.” She took their hand. “Let’s go and see Steve and Bucky, there is a lot you have missed.” She led them to the car before starting their journey.

“What are those?” Stu asked as Wanda emptied the bag of letters on the table, organising them by date.

“Letters from Y/N.” She whispered as he picked one up.

“Why didn’t they ever send them?” He asked as she shrugged, standing up and getting herself a glass of wine.

“I don’t know.” She answered him, her eyes burning with years of unshed tears and emotions. “I think you should leave.” She told him as he laughed.

“Come on, Wanda, you can’t be serious.” He asked her. “We have been going out for a few weeks now, I asked you to be mine last night before we fucked.”

“Wow, real classy Stu.” She spat at him before she took a deep breath. “Maybe we need to take a step back.”

“No! That’s absurd!” He yelled as Wanda shook her head.

“No, what’s absurd is me thinking I could ever love someone else the way I love them.” She told him. “Please just leave and lose my number.” She told him as she held the door open for him, watching as he grabbed his things before approaching her.

“You’re going to regret this.” He told her as he stood before her.

“The only thing I regret is even giving us a chance.” She told him before slamming the door in his face, taking a deep breath as she locked the door and made her way back over to the letters.

She noticed from the first one, they had written to her since she had sent in her first letter to them. A small smile played on her lips at the idea of Y/N even having some hope for them.

Dear Wanda,

I know that this isn’t exactly a peak milestone in our friendship, but I think it should count. I got your letter and I am sorry that this happened to us. I just couldn’t picture you in here suffering for something that might have saved your life.

You’re my best friend, my biggest supporter, the ying to my yang.

Love Y/N/N

She smiled as she read their small letter, remembering how they could barely stand writing and always opted to call instead. But as she read the letters, she smiled at how much longer they had gotten.

Dear Wanda,

I know you probably hate me by now, I pushed you away when you needed me, but truthfully, you never really did need me. Seeing how you’ve written about your life this past couple of years has really made me proud. I am proud of the woman you have become Wanda and whoever is lucky enough to call you theirs should know it.

I know in another lifetime, maybe it did work out for us, maybe we would have worked out right now if I had the balls to tell you how I felt before college. Before you even thought of being with my brother. We could have had everything, maybe if I am lucky enough and you’re still single when I get out of here, we can have everything. I know that’s a pipe dream that’s never going to happen.

Love Y/N/N

Dear Wanda,

It’s been five years, and these five years have been the loneliest I have ever been. Yeah, I have a cellmate, Brock, he is a dick but he has my back. We have to look out for each other here or we could end up dead, believe me, there are some people here who hate my dad and they do tend to take it out on me because of my name and relationship with him, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

There hasn’t been a day where I don’t think about you, Wanda. Everyday I wake up and wonder what you might be doing today, are you happy and healthy? Have you found that person that makes you smile as soon as you open your eyes? But on some selfish level, I wish that you are as alone as me, I wish that maybe you’re waiting for me to get out of here, but that is all just wonders.

Love Y/N/N

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to read the next letter, given there is a two month pause in between them. Not wanting to read the extent of the injuries they suffered during that riot, the nightmares that occured after or the horror they witnessed.

“It’s so good to have you back!” Bucky cheered as he pulled Y/N into a tight embrace.

“Have you been to see Wanda? I’m sure she will be so thrilled.” Steve started as he pulled them into his embrace.

“We did.” Y/N told them with a small smile. “She had company.”

“She never saw Y/N, they just dropped the letters they wrote to her and left.” Nat told the couple.

“Was it Stu?” Steve questioned as Nat nodded.

“I don’t like him.” Bucky blurted out, making everyone laugh. “What? He is a pompous dick.”

“I can agree with that.” Nat nodded as Y/N looked out of the window.

“Y/N, I have something to show you.” Steve said as he led Y/N away from the other two, closing the door to his office before turning to them. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” They asked him.

“About how you feel.” He spoke softly. “I’ll be here to listen, a shoulder to lean on because I can see that you’re trying your hardest to put on a brave face.”

“I am anxious.” They started as they picked up a picture of Steve and Bucky on their wedding day, a smile on their face as they admired the picture. “I have spent the last decade a nervous wreck, barely a few hours of sleep each night, the threats that I received because of the amount of people who knew who I really was, thinking that The Great Tony Stark will pay out millions to ensure his child’s safety.” Steve just listened as they rambled on. “And tonight, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the nightmares. The last five years have been ok because I have been in a cell on my own, but I am home and I don’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“I don’t know how bad your nightmares are, but you have a lot of support here, your sister, mom and you have all of us. All we want is to help you through this because you have suffered a great deal while you have been inside.” He told them. “You won’t be alone ok.” He pulled them in for another hug before they pulled away quickly.

“I missed your wedding!!” They yelled as Steve nodded with a laugh. “I can’t believe I missed everything!!”

“It’s ok.” He smiled at them before resting his hand on the door handle. “Talk to Wanda, you never know what will happen tomorrow. You of all people should know that.”

Wanda stood at the step of the Stark Residence, knocking frantically, after reading the letter they wrote after the riot, she wanted to know why no one told her of their injuries.

“Wanda?” Morgan questioned as Wanda gave her a smile.

“Hi, is your mom here?” She asked the teen politely.

“Yeah, come in.” She let the now brunette inside, leading her to the living room where Pepper sat reading the paper.

“Wanda, what are you doing here?” Pepper questioned. “I would have thought you would be out with everyone celebrating.”

“Why would I be celebrating?” She questioned as Pepper raised a brow.

“Y/N’s home.” Was all she said before the door opened again, Wanda turned in time to see Y/N enter the living room. Her eyes stung with tears waiting to be shed as Y/N’s eyes widened, their heart beating rapidly in their chest as Pepper cleared her throat. “I think you two should talk.” She got up and grabbed Morgan’s wrist. “We are going out for dinner.” With that, Wanda was left in the house alone with Y/N.

“Hello, my love.” They gave her a nervous smile. “Do you want a drink?” They asked her as she just shook her head, her eyes never leaving their form. “Well, I need one.” She followed them into the kitchen, watching as they grabbed the whiskey and poured themselves a glass.

“You look different.” Wanda told them as they chuckled.

“Well, it has been 10 years.” They chuckled as they turned to face her.

“Don’t do that.” She told them firmly. “Don’t make it seem like this is all on me. I wanted to wait for you, fight for you, for us, because you were the one who pushed me away.”

“Because I wanted you to live your life Wanda! You deserve to find your happiness and not be constantly haunted by the thought of us!” They yelled as she chuckled dryly.

“Is that why you never sent me any of those letters? You just kept them in a bag thinking I would never read them.” She spat as she stepped closer to them.

“I wanted you to move forward Wanda. I wanted you to live your life and not wait on me.” They told her softly.

“I was willing to wait for you because I loved you!” She poked their chest. “I really loved you.” With that she left the house, leaving a sad Y/N behind.

“She just left?” Morgan asked as she sat beside Y/N on the sofa.

“Yep.” They nodded as Morgan chuckled lightly.

“I would have thought she would have jumped your bones after not seeing you for years.” She told them as they nudged her arm.

“Hey! Don’t talk like that.” They scolded her as she gave them a serious look.

“I’m not 6 anymore Y/N.” She told them. “I’m 16 now, but you wouldn’t know that, I haven’t had a happy birthday off of you in 10 years.” With that she stormed up to her room as Pepper walked in.

“Just give her time.” She told them. “She missed you so much when you were arrested, she cried every night for you.”

“I’m sorry mom.” They whispered as they looked at Pepper who only smiled.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” She told them. “I know the truth of what really happened. Nat told me, and then Wanda did.” Y/N sat and listened to her as she spoke. “I know what your brother is capable of, I know what he did to Wanda too and why she did it.” She turned to face them as she spoke. “I also understand why you did what you did, although I was furious with you, because you threw away your career for someone.”

“It wasn’t just someone.” Y/N remarked as Pepper smiled at them.

“I know that, I remembered seeing how you looked at her, how much you hated every guy she ever dated, how they were never good enough for her.” She told them. “I know you more than anyone, but you need to get your feelings in order because that girl has waited for you for 10 years.”

“She’s with someone.” Y/N told her sadly. “She told Nat and the guys.”

“Fight for her.” She told them. “Don’t give up on the one thing that gave you hope!” She pulled them up to their feet. “Go, now!” She handed them their keys, a smile appearing on their face. “I kept it looked after all these years, I may have neglected my own car just to keep yours running.”

“Thank you mom.” They whispered as they hugged her, soon racing their way to Wanda’s apartment, remembering the address and the number. Racing up the stairs, soon standing outside her door. Knocking frantically and waiting impatiently for her to answer it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked them as they gave her a small smile.

“The way we left it the other day, it shouldn’t have been left like that.” They rambled as she fought the smile that wanted to appear. “We both should be happy to see each other, not argue over something so small.”

“Would you like to come inside?” Wanda asked them. “I have a fresh pot of coffee on.”

“I would like that.” They smiled as she stepped aside, allowing them inside. They followed her through to her kitchen, admiring the decor and the pictures she had on the wall. “I got your letters.” They told her. “They uh got me through a lot of tough times.”

“Why didn’t you ever send your letters?” She asked them as they sighed, thanking her for the cup.

“I thought that maybe you would forget about me. Move on with your life without me.” They told her honestly. “I guess, I just thought that maybe you would be married to a great guy with a family of your own.”

“I couldn’t.” Wanda whispered as she looked in their eyes. “I tried to move on, I did but my heart belonged to you.” She exhaled sharply before continuing. “It still does.”

“Wanda.” They whispered as they soon pulled her in for a tight hug, Wanda sighed as she felt their strong arms around her middle. The two remained in this position for a long moment, neither wanting it to end just yet.

“Sit with me.” Wanda said as she soon dragged them to sit on the sofa, her head leaning on her hand as she gazed at them. “You have some scars.” She lightly touched their face as she looked into their eyes.

“Well, the riot wasn’t the only violence I had experienced.” They told her honestly. “I had a few run-ins with some of the inmates, and they weren’t exactly nice.”

“I think you look hot.” She whispered as they soon removed her hand from her.

“You’re in a relationship.” They told her, watching as she shook her head no.

“I ended it last week, the day Nat gave me your letters.” She told them honestly. “I knew there was no sense in moving on because I should be with you, Y/N.”

“You can’t say that and expect me not to kiss you.” They told her barely above a whisper, caressing her face as she smiled at them.

“What if I want you to kiss me?” She replied, biting her lip as she felt their hot breath fanning over her face. Y/N wasted no time in pressing their lips onto hers, kissing her roughly before she straddled their lap, soon spending the night exploring each other’s bodies.

Y/N listened as there was constant yells and banging from outside the cell, sharing a look with Brock who got his own homemade shiv from under his pillow. Watching as he disappeared onto the walkway, yelling profanities as he swung his weapon around.

Y/N listened to the pained yellings of injured inmates, the triumphant shouts of others as they stepped out of their cell, looking over the railings to see the guards also fighting for their lives. It wasn’t until they looked to their left, seeing someone charge at them, sending them over the edge and onto the lower level. Groaning as they turned over just in time to stop another stabbing them.

“Y/N!” They heard Brock call out to them, struggling against two fellow inmates. “Y/N!”

“Y/N.” They soon jolted awake and fell out of the bed, a worried Wanda looked over the edge. “Are you ok?” She asked them as they got up, climbing back in the bed and nodding.

“Yeah, it was just a nightmare.” They told her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked them as she rested her head on their chest.

“I’m fine.” They told her. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Is it about the riot?” She asked them as they took a deep breath. “I saw your other scars, I just want you to know that you can talk to me.” She told them softly. “I am not going anywhere.”

“It’s just, there was someone who I could have saved.” They told her. “My cellmate, Brock, he always had my back. Always stuck by me, even though he had every possibility to kill me to get in good with others who wanted me dead.” Wanda watched as they spoke, her fingers tracing mindless patterns on their skin. “He died, trying to help me. I wasn’t supposed to survive that riot, I was supposed to bleed out beside him but the guards, they shut it down.” Wanda took their hand in hers. “I was lucky, this scar here.” They pointed to the scar on their chest. “This was my end.”

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered as they shook their head. “It should have been me who went to prison, not you.”

“I would make the same choice every time.” They told her softly. “I would do anything for you Wanda. I always will.” She cupped their cheek as she moved to sit up, the moonlight cascading over her naked form as she looked deep into their eyes. Noses brushing together as she leaned in to kiss them lovingly, the bodies pressed together as Y/N wrapped their arms around her, making her feel safe and complete for the first time in her life. Only they know what their future holds for the two.

Five Years Later

Y/N was looking around for their belt and work boots frantically, nervous about this job as it is a big job for them.

“Wanda! Have you seen my?” Their words were lost in their throat as they saw a four year old Tommy waddling around in their boots and their belt hanging from his waist. “What do we have here little fella.” They smiled as they picked the toddling child up into their arms.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to keep him away from your things.” Wanda ran in frantically as Y/N only smiled at her.

“It’s ok.” They smiled as they kissed the side of Tommy’s head. “I am my own boss after all.” They pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

“I made your lunch.” She told them as she packed their bag with sandwiches and a flask of coffee as they finished getting themselves ready.

“Thank you.” They smiled as they finally stood up, ready for work. “My mom said she will have the twins tonight and maybe we can have a little date night.”

“I already promised Nat I would go out.” Wanda spoke seriously as Y/N’s smile faltered. “I can cancel if you want me to.”

“No, you should go and let your hair down.” They told her softly. “At least don’t drink too much and call me when you want to be picked up.”

“I will.” She kissed them once more before Billy came running into their arms, hugging them tightly before the three of them waved Y/N off as they drove their truck to the site, meeting Bucky already there and ready for work.

“So how is the wife and kids?” Bucky asked them with a smile.

“They are great, although Tommy seems to have taken a liking to my boots.” They told him honestly as they finished their last job for the day. “My mom is having the twins tonight and Wanda is going out with Nat.”

“So, you have the house to yourself.” He smirked as Y/N chuckled.

“I guess I can do some of the jobs that need doing and I haven’t gotten around to.” They shrugged as Bucky nodded.

“Or you can just sit back and relax.” He told them. “You’re not in prison now Y/N, besides, you served your sentence.”

“Not really though.” They shrugged as Bucky shook his head, the two standing up getting ready to leave. “I only finished half of my sentence.”

“But you got out.” Bucky told them. “You’re free to live your life, watch your family grow. Don’t dwell on the past.”

“I’m not.” They defended as Bucky followed them to the truck.

“You are.” He told them seriously. “Look, I don’t know half of what happened inside but I do know that you have the life you have always dreamed of with Wanda and the twins. Yeah, you may not have your dream job but that’s ok. You just have to make the most of the life you have now.”

Y/N took in his words before the two went their separate ways, he was right because they have always dreamed of living this life together with Wanda. Having a family with her and they have it all.

“I thought you were going out?” Y/N asked as they saw Wanda coming out from the kitchen, a dish of their favorite meal in her hands.

“I can go out with Nat anytime, but I want to spend the night with you.” She told them. “I cooked your favorite.” She told them as they smiled at her.

“Thank you.” They told her as they approached her, their hands wrapping around her waist. “For waiting for me and making me the happiest person alive.”

“I love you Y/N.” She told them sincerely as she looked in their eyes. “I will always love you until my dying days, and even in the afterlife, I will love you.” They captured her lips in a gentle kiss before she pushed them away, a teasing smirk on her face. “Go and shower, I’ll keep the dinner warm.”

“I love you Wanda Maximoff.” They told her. “You have always been the light of my life.” She blushed as they ascended the stairs to their shared bedroom, the walls were lined with pictures, from the memories they had made together, some from before they left for college, and more from when they had come back into her life. The moments they had shared together which made their hearts glow as one, even brighter the moment they brought the twins into the world, making their family complete.

[mollierdr2]

Harvest Moon

Summary: Short Arthur and f!reader oneshot that takes place well before the events of the game. They reunite after Y/N leaves the gang for a short while after a blowout fight with Arthur. ALSO, I know that this isn't the long one I said I was going to put out, but I'm still not happy with that one & this one feels fine. 'Tis all.

Warnings: not beta-read lol

Word Count: Roughly 2300

As you strode through the desert, shoeless, horseless, and in a tattered purple skirt, you found yourself wishing you’d elected not to rob the burly rich man from the bar.  Not only did the man catch you, but he spooked your damn horse, knocked you upside the head a few times, and left you in the middle of nowhere with no shoes, for whatever reason.  You were, for lack of a better term, worse for wear.  You were considerably thinner than you’d been in a while–a consequence of leaving the place that fed you steadily–and it had aged you slightly, making you appear to be in your 30s, which you had a certain aversion to.  Your feet hurt–the desert is not particularly kind to bare feet in the blazing sun–and you limped ever-so-slightly as you walked.  This is good, you thought.  Maybe people will think I’m crazy and choose not to approach me.

“You know, it would be easier if you had some shoes on, Y/N,” a familiar voice called, and you stopped dead in your tracks.  You were tired, no doubt, but you’d never been tired enough to hallucinate the voice of your detested lover.  The sound of horse hooves drew closer, and when they stopped, you looked up at the driver slowly, almost comically, and your heart fluttered.  You had missed him.

“Mr. Morgan,” you said, doing your utmost to sound cordial. “I’ll have you know that they was taken from me.”

“Seriously?  Not Arthur?”  He held his hand out, adding, “How the hell did that happen?” He sighed. “Come back to camp and get some damn clothes.”

“I told you I was goin’ off on my own,” you responded, crossing your arms.  “I am doin’ just fine out here; makin’ a real name for myself, you know.”

“Yeah, tryin’ to rob the owner of half the shops in town is ‘makin’ a name for yourself’, huh?  You seem to be real good at that, then.”

“Quit followin’ me around.  I don’t go botherin’ you when you need your space.”  Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “I told you I’d come back when I was ready, and I ain’t ready.”  You spat at the ground with conviction, as if to add some sort of leverage to what you’d said.  

“You’re starvin’ damn near to death, Y/N.  Come for one night, get some food in you—get some shoes—and you can leave again without a word from me.  You just… forgive me, but you look a mess.  Let Miss Grimshaw and the girls take care of you.”

“Arthur-” 

“I won’t give you no trouble, okay?  I got lookout duty tonight, so I won’t be in camp anyway… Abigail asked me to fetch you; do it for her?”  Arthur looked down at you with his big blue eyes and a fresh scar on his chin–perhaps from shaving–and you couldn’t say no.  Besides, Abigail probably did need a lady friend who wasn’t past menopause or in the midst of puberty to help her with her pregnancy struggles.  

Reluctantly, you took Arthur’s hand and allowed him to help you onto his horse, Boadicea.  “Don’t think this means I’m stayin’, Arthur Morgan,” you said, making a point not to hold on to his shoulders.  

“I’m not expectin’ anything,” he said back, gently steering the two of you back towards camp, which you’d been–though subconsciously–heading for anyway.  “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed, is all.”

“How thoughtful,” you mused.

“It has been quiet without you, though-”

“Where’d you get that scar? Fightin’ in bars again?” you interrupted, crossing your arms again. 

“What?”  Arthur’s pitch rose.  

“On your chin.”

“Oh, that’s from tryin’ to help John with shaving. Made a fool of myself an’ he won’t let it go.” Arthur gave Boadicea a nice pat on the shoulder and chuckled. “I suppose you have more new scars than I do, huh, Y/N?”

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks and ears, you said, “I don’t intend to speak to you for the remainder of this ride.  I have been doing my utmost to avoid you.”

Arthur hummed, laughing a little, and  steering Boadicea to the left.  “As you wish.”  

It made you mad that he thought he could tease you after everything that had transpired. He knew you weren’t ready to come back—if you were you’d have gone back on your own accord—but here he was, playing the role of the hero that he’d worked so desperately to fit into. You knew Arthur though, and you knew that no matter how good he was, he would never be the hero he tried to be. No one was a hero in this life. You were certainly no heroine, and you figured that your shared lack of heroism was what brought the two of you together in the first place; your bad would always outweigh your good, but you could make peace with the meshing morality if there was someone else who understood your plight. Someone who understood the way it felt to be so bad and good at the same time as intimately as Arthur did was hard to come by, so you found yourself flocking to him from the very beginning. It was only a matter of time before the curtain fell back and he saw how haunted you were by your past—by the wicked things that you’d inflicted upon people—and you couldn’t help but run from that. You couldn’t have the one person who understood you know how awful you truly were.

Arthur wondered, as he accompanied you back to camp, if this was really worth it. He knew he missed you—desperately—but he didn’t want to fight anymore.  He was sick of spending his days bickering with you, though he found that he missed your presence more than he disliked the arguments.  Arguing meant that you were there, at the very least.  He couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or whether or not you were safe–it was why he’d wound up this far South from Camp anyway.  

He remembered why you’d left.  It was his fault, in a way, for trying to convince you to talk about your family.  He remembered the way you shoved him, crying for him to leave you the hell alone, telling him that you hated him.  He was certain it wasn’t true, that it was a spur-of-the-moment type of thing, but it still ate at him.  There was so much he hadn’t told you yet, and he was afraid that he’d never get to tell you if you stayed gone.  He tugged slightly on the reins, taking a right turn.  He shouldn’t have pushed you, he knew that, but it irked him. He just wished you’d learned how to communicate.

You, despite your best efforts to the contrary, could not bring yourself to commit to hating Arthur.  You tried.  You gave him your best angry glare, but you felt that it was too weak.  You were exhausted anyway, too tired for anger.  You decided you’d be angry at him the next day, after you’d slept for a good 18 hours or so.  You thought back to the last time you’d seen Arthur.  You were so angry with him for trying to get you to talk about your Ma and Pa—that was none of his damn business—but now that you thought back on it, it couldn’t have been too unreasonable.  Arthur was not an unreasonable man.  He was no hero, but he was a levelheaded person. You could have at least told him about your brother, but you didn’t, for whatever reason, and you felt guilty for that.  Still, you had to remain firm in your escape.  If you didn’t force the space, you figured, you would never learn to miss him enough to open up to him.  Or you’d forget all about him and the whole thing would be over.  Either way, you had to remain firm.  If you gave up, the throbbing in your left eye would be for nothing.  Your weight loss, acceleration of aging, bankruptcy, and lack of clothes would all be for nothing, and you couldn’t have that.  It had to be for something.  

Being as tired as you were, you found it increasingly difficult to keep from leaning on Arthur.  Your eyelids were magnets, and you felt it rude to neglect such a powerful force of nature, allowing yourself to indulge a little by closing them.  Soon, you were wrapped around Arthur’s torso, head resting on his shoulder blade, and snoring loudly.  He chuckled but didn’t wake you.  He loved seeing you, perhaps the fieriest woman he’d ever met, at peace.  He sang softly to himself the rest of the way to camp, a smile plastered on his now-scarred face.  

When he slowed, you awoke.  You never woke up peacefully–it was not in your nature to–and instead found yourself pushing your body off of Boadicea, momentarily scared out of your mind.  As you hit the ground, landing rather clumsily on your wrist, you remembered what had happened before and that you had, regrettably, fallen asleep on Arthur, your current sworn enemy.  “You okay?” Arthur asked, chuckling slightly.

“I am fine, thank you,” you spat, sitting up.  You then flew to your feet, wiping the dirt off of your palms and bottom, and stomped to the center of Camp in pursuit of Abigail.  

“Y/N, it’s good to see you back,” Hosea remarked from somewhere or other, but you waved him off.  You were on a mission.  You were to find Abigail, curse her for sending Arthur after you, and then tell her all about everything that had happened in the almost month that you had been gone.  

When you located her–heavily pregnant and lounging in a chair by the fire–you beelined toward her, frowning.  “Abigail Roberts,” you angrily exclaimed, pushing through the crowd of men by the fire.  “Why did you send Arthur after me?”

Abigail, taken by surprise, looked up at you, brows raised.  “Y/N, you’re back!”

“I’m visiting,” you corrected.  “And why did you send Arthur after me?  I was doin’ just fine on my own, you know.”

Looking you up and down, a smirk spread its way across Abigail’s lips.  “Yeah, you look it.”  

“Abigail!”

“All I’m sayin’ is that you’ve looked better in your day, okay?”  She rubbed her swollen belly as she spoke.  “And I didn’t send anyone after you–I figured you’d come when it was your time.  You’re like a cat, you know.”

You frowned.  “So Arthur made that up?”

“Seein’ as how I got no idea what you’re goin’ on about, I’ll venture to say that it’s a yes,” Abigail responded, leaning back.  “Now, will you please fetch John to give me a foot massage?”

You nodded idly, looking around camp.  You did not care about wherever John was, for you were far more worried about the location of Arthur, who had seemingly lied to you about his reasoning for picking you up.  The sun had begun to set, though, and it made it significantly harder for you to find anyone.  This did not stop you, though, and you located Arthur at the Southern outskirt of camp, sitting on a large rock and writing in his journal.  

“Arthur Morgan,” you said, finger pointed.  “You lied about why you made me come back here.”  

Arthur lazily looked up, smirking.  “You wouldn’t have come if I didn’t come up with something.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have-”

“Let me say my bit now, if that’s okay with you.”  He folded his journal, tucking it into his satchel.  You scoffed, but he started talking before you could make an ass of yourself.   “I really missed you, Y/N, more than I’ve missed anyone.  I kept goin’ back into that town to make sure you weren’t gettin’ yourself hurt or nothin’, and I hated not bein’ able to just tell you that I missed you.  I mean, you were right there, but I couldn’t do it.  After that man scared away your horse, I beat him–I mean really beat him–so he couldn’t do anything like that again.  And I know I ain’t the best at tellin’ you these things or showin’ that I love you, but-”

“You love me?”  You asked, eyes wide.  You’d never been told those words before.

“Well, yeah… I guess I never told you, huh?”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks and you found yourself in the same place you’d been a month before–crying, truly vulnerable in front of a man who wanted to know and love you.  This time, though, you wouldn’t tuck tail and run.  “Arthur, I-”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’, Y/N-”

“No, I just… it’s just… no one’s ever said they love me before,” you mumbled, staring at the ground.  “Not even my Mama.”

“Well, I do, Y/N,” Arthur reassured, putting his left hand on your shoulder and wiping a stray tear with the other hand.  “And I’m sorry if that scares you away because I know you don’t like lots of emotions or anything, but it’s the truth.  I love you.”

You crumpled into Arthur’s embrace, digging your face into his warm, strong chest.  You’d missed this–being in his arms–and though you were scared, you were pretty sure that you loved him too.  The chip on your shoulder melted.  It didn’t matter how long you’d left because you were back and you were, for perhaps the first time in your life, loved, and that was more than you’d ever thought to be imaginable.  Sniffling, you nestled closer, wrapping your arms around his waist.  He wrapped his arms around your weakened, starving torso, holding you tight.  You couldn’t say it out loud yet, not after the pain you’d endured growing up, but you were at least aware of the fact that you loved Arthur Morgan and you could no longer pretend it wasn’t the truth because he loved you too.  He loved you.  

You knew you’d be able to tell him soon enough.

You wanted to dance and scream it from the rooftops–Arthur Morgan loved you and he was willing to wait on you to be ready to be with him.  He was the first person to openly love you, and nothing else mattered.  “Arthur,” you said, looking up at him.

“Hm?”

“Let’s go dance together, real proper, like rich folks do.”  You smiled, pulling away.  Arthur nodded, letting you lead him to the music at the hub of Camp.  Abigail still sat at the center, waiting on her foot massage from John, but seeing the way you and Arthur were together, arm in arm, she decided it was a lost cause.  You were smitten.  Twitterpated, even.  She just wanted her damn feet to feel better.  

“John Marston,” she called, tipping her head backwards towards their shared tent.  “Come give me a foot massage!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called back, hurrying to her aid.  

Camp was camp again, illuminated brilliantly by a beautiful full moon, and backed with Javier’s soft plucking on his guitar.  It was like out of a book, you decided, as you danced and dipped and twirled in Arthur’s arms.  It was perfect. Softly, too quiet to hear, you whispered, “I love you too.”

[gellavonhamster]

reading the post-vulgate, part 1 (the merlin continuation)

"The eldest was called Gawain, the second Gaheriet, the third Agravain, and the fourth Guerrehet" no fucking way they're in a different order again. When will it end

if Merlin knows everything that will happen, why does he go on about how he won't tell Arthur who the knight destined to destroy the kingdom is because he doesn't want to kill a child? A lot more children are going to die because this bitch is refusing to be specific

finally Yvain is Morgan's son again, this was Bothering me

Mordred hit his head as an infant so hard that the scar remained for all his life. This is potential for his brothers making jokes in the vein of "and that's why he is like that" later

in this version, the father of Sagremor the Unruly is also called the Unruly, making it their surname, I guess, which is funny, even though at a later point in Chapter 59 the narrator changes his mind and says that it was Kay who gave Sagremor this nickname

big fan of the fact that Mordred and Sagremor are raised together - there's something cute about a doomed-by-the-narrative goth and a reckless fun guy being childhood friends. And then one of them kills the other :)))

oh, the May babies are rescued in this one! Nice

brief glimpses of some fairy drama as the lady who was girded with the sword that Balin could remove "owed allegiance to the lady called the Lady of the Isle of Avalon" and the one that wanted her killed for killing her father was the one that helped Arthur take Excalibur from the hand in the lake

"In this place will meet in battle the two most faithful lovers of their time" sounds like Lancelot and Tristan will be each other's lovers and the battle in question will be their meet-cute

"For [King Lot] is the one in my land in whom I would have trusted most in great need, and for whom I would have done most" buddy, you slept with his wife.

Gawain is eleven years old when he swears to kill Pellinor for killing his father! And the adults at the funeral praise him for such noble intentions! God!!!

yesss this version supports my headcanon that Yvain's animal-befriending powers are a result of Morgan experimenting with various magic while she was pregnant with him

seriously, would everything that eventually happens had ever happened if Merlin wasn't walking around telling people "you will kill him, and you will kill him, and one of these two boys you're raising will kill the other", thus making everyone think it's inevitable?

you know what would've made reading this easier and more enjoyable? If I cared about Balin

according to this one, there should be 150 Knights of the Round Table

I like that Guinevere is being referred to as "valiant"

"for no adventure that may happen, unless mortal peril is to come of it, may a knight who is sitting at table stir before he has eaten" is a good custom, more contemporary jobs should follow it

Tor's mom is great (loved it when she rebuked Merlin and everyone laughed) and I can't wait for Gawain to kill Pellinor

Kay being described as "a good enough knight, but not as good as the others" lmao

my brain refuses to perceive young Bademagu. This is a middle-aged man with (at least?) two adult children

“Now come forward and see a king’s daughter wield a sword” is one hell of a line

yelling @ the maiden/mother/crone ladies making fun of Gawain being short

I imagine Gaheris here speaking in a very patient voice that simultaneously verges on hysterics because he's so fucking exasperated

I thought this text might change my opinion on Gaheris for the better, but then the matricide part came, with "But it was his opinion that the lady should be blamed and humiliated" and "Then he put his hand on his sword and wished to kill his mother, but he would leave the knight, because he seemed too handsome and valiant, and he was disarmed", and nope, still hate that guy

like what the fuck is WRONG with you!!!

oh I am seething right now

"for they were tired, although they had not yet done anything" meeee

[shrinkthisviolet]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 💗 -ambi

ps. i just realized i’m not following you???? sorry 😭

Not a problem at all! Glad you're following me now 💗

This ask was also sent in by @dearestpartnerofgreatness @phoomwhoosh @goldheartedchaoticdisaster and @northerngoshawk! Thank you all, sorry my July's been hectic af 😅

So, my 5 favorite self-written fics (in no particular order):

1. so many walls up (i can't break through) - the first fic of the s1 arc of the Morgan AU! My first multichap in the AU too...which I don't usually write a lot of, so that made it extra special. It's also where we see the beginnings of Barry & Morgan, aka one of my favorite relationships in this whole AU (and if you love them too, take comfort in knowing that there's gonna be a lot more of them to come). And some insight into Morgan & Thawne's complicated father-daughter dynamic...which is the relationship referred to in the title. And Morgan herself is so wonderful and I love her...which goes hand in hand with me wanting to give her the biggest, tightest hug 💞

2. one tries to fly away (and the other watches close) - also part of the Morgan Wells AU, and also expanding on Morgan & Thawne as a relationship. It was a nice change to step into Eowells's head and see how he feels about Morgan...we spend so much time in her shoes that I think it's important to show that Eowells does indeed love Morgan, he just doesn't know how to love her in a healthy way, so he ends up hurting her. Love can be complicated like that.

3. i hate to look at your face (and know that you're feeling different) - so this is pretty recent, but I love it! I love Izumi & Zuko, and I've always wanted to write something about them, but...the ATLA muse these days is fickle, so I wasn't sure where to start. But I figured "ooh what's more angsty than Izumi finding out about her dad's scar at 13?" and I'm proud of the results 💞 having a deadline helped too

4. come in, the water is(n't) fine - this is one I think I'll be proud of for a while. It was my first go at Sith Luke, but during the Sequels era from the POV of Rey. I've always wanted more from Rey & Luke than what we got in the movies, and this was my chance to sorta explore that...albeit with some differences. I think the backstory was the trickiest part to get right here - it's an AU but I didn't wanna go full OOC, so I had to figure out how Luke could plausibly fall. And I think I did pretty well! And bonus...I actually didn't hate Kylo Ren in this 😂

5. i hear it calling (i feel it in my soul) - can't make a list like this without a Lucy AU fic ofc! And it had to be this one. This very well might change to my ESB fic (since that movie's my favorite), but for now, it's this one. I really loved writing this, inserting Lucy and changing a few minor things here and there to kick the emotion up a notch (and to erase that brief Luke and Leia romance because...wtf)...and the sibling bonds between the triplets were so wonderful to write too! And Lucy herself is so dear to me ofc 💞

...also I'm cheating and adding a 6th because I feel like it:

6. main gehra tamas tu sunehra savera (main tera) - the Maiko/Hasaisha fic! Can't make this list without that too...this fic will forever be one of my proudest ones. Maiko is such a dear ship to me, and Hasaisha were so cute in Ms. Marvel...and I gave myself a challenge that I didn't know if I could meet, but I wanted to try. And I'm so glad I did, because I think it's one of the best things I've ever written.

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

Here's the list, with ratings, word count, and brief descriptions of the fics under the cut. Includes a variety of things, such as AUs, omegaverse, and post-fall. Almost every single Hannibal oneshot in my history, and every one I have written.

The Birth of the Lamb by HollyMartins- Rated M. 3,917 words. Mpreg, pre-and-post-fall. Not omega verse.

Winter by friendlyhostile- Not rated. 1,025 words. AU where Will and Hannibal were married pre-season 1, and Will learns why Hannibal can't stand winter or snow.

Perfect The Way We Are by capn_fuzzy- Rated M. 7,649. Post-fall omega verse, alpha Will and omega Hannibal, preparing for the arrival of their children.

together they have trambled the green and golden rue by silvergoldsea- Rated G. 169 words. Very poetic where Will and Hannibal are creatures of the forest.

Great Cathedrals by l3moncoffee- Rated G. 1,066 words. Post-fall, mpreg, not omega verse. A sweet story about Will and Hannibal becoming grandfathers.

Nothing But Music From This Point On by RichlyJeweledHands- Rated G. 1,997 words. Post-fall, told from the POV of Wally.

Autumnal by Tina_Mairin_Goldstein- Rated T. 1,606 words. God AU where Will is Persephone and Hannibal is Hades. Part of a series, the rest being titled Estivel, Brumal, and Vernal, all between 1,374 and 8,451 words.

His Shadow Suspended On Dust by Tina_Mairin_Goldstein- Rated M. 6,148 words. Post-fall omega verse, alpha Will and omega Hannibal, post-mpreg. Several years after the fall, Jack catches up with Will and Hannibal.

Beneath the Brine by Tina_Mairin_Goldstein- Rated T. 6,052 words. Will and Hannibal's life over the years post-fall. Major Character Death tag.

I love you more than the world can contain by wr3tchedthing- Rated G. 772 words. Post-fall, Will and Hannibal as old men.

No One Will Ever Love Me Like You Again by Will_Graham_my_love- Not rated. 214 words. A letter Will wrote to Hannibal but never sent to him, set before the second half of season 3.

A Verger Baby by myramcqueen- Not rated. 678 words. A Margot and Alana story set after season 3. Margot's feelings about Morgan.

The Only Butterflies Will Be The Ones in Your Chest by faithfulDiscord- Rated T. 2,568 words. Will is Life and Hannibal is Death, they're married, and they come across each other at the scene of a murder.

Patient Is the Night by MooshiShoomi- Not rated. 4,546 words. AU where Will is trans, he and Hannibal are married, and Will just gave birth to their son and isn't doing too well.

Winters Eve by MooshiShoomi- Not rated. 3,750 words. Christmas sequel to Patient Is the Night.

Your Own False Condition by McRibFarewellTour- Not rated. 5,005 words. Post-fall, Hannibal trying to get Will a dog and communication issues and insecurities follow.

What Brings Us To Now by Ineffable_Hannigram- Rated G. 3,340 words. Hannibal whump where he has an eating disorder.

I'm Not Made for This by stranded_labyrinth- Rated M. 2,916 words. Post-fall, post-mpreg omega verse, alpha Will and omega Hannibal. Omegas become feral after giving birth and Will isn't coping too well with it.

The Haunting of Hannibal Lecter by BattyMadison- Rated T. 3,487. AU where Will and Hannibal never met, Will gets hit by a car, becomes a ghost, and attaches himself to Hannibal. Shenanigans ensue.

Stars Around My Scars by WordsAblaze- Rated G. 1,144 words. Post-fall, a kid makes Will feel uncomfortable about his scars, and Hannibal comforts him.

DNR by herding_elephants- Rated M. 1,004 words. Post-fall, there is a car accident. Major Character Death tag.

Mouth to Mouth Resuscitation by McRibFarewellTour- Not rated. 5,026 words. Post-fall and Will has depression.

It Takes Two To Nest by TheSilverQueen- Rated T. 13,959 words. AU where omega verse where omegas are required to have babies. Hannibal and Will are both omegas, and meet in the hospital while in labor.

Til Death Do Us Part by Ruiz_M- Not Rated. 706 words. Will's behavior post-fall told by Hannibal. Dark Will.

Earth Tones by sourweather- Rated T. 3,345 words. Post-fall and they're living in Cuba. They have a tender moment and Hannibal remembers past trauma, so Will takes care of him.

Will in White by Lady_Thunder- Rated T. 813 words. AU where Will is a ghost and takes on the role of a 'woman in white'. Strong Supernatural Pilot vibes.

Late Spring by Demiurgos- Rated T. 1,201 words. Omega verse, alpha Will, omega Hannibal, mpreg, implied abortion. Mizumono centered with a jealous Hannibal.

nothing in the world belongs to me but my love by antiheroblake- Rated M. 4,522 words. Post-fall, Hannibal was blinded by a head injury and is struggling to cope.

You Name the Babies, I'll Name the Dogs by sourweather- Rated E. 10,638 words. Omega verse AU, omegas Will and Hannibal, married and having babies.

Scars, and how we got them by Dancycore- Rated M. 1,539 words. Post-fall, Will and Hannibal look at each other's scars and try to make amends.

We have everythin' (Our love is enough) by LaynaVile- Rated M. 7,020 words. Omega verse AU where Will is an alpha werewolf and Hannibal is an omega vampire who are married and expecting twins together.

I want, I want, I want by gazing- Rated T. 4,287 words. Post-fall, detailing Will's courtship of Hannibal.

Hunt and Belong by hearteatertrih- Rated T. 6,963. AU where the officials at BSHCI sacrifice Hannibal to the god of the forest, who happens to be Will.

Okay, the ones after this point I'm not sure about recommending, and if they include smut, I skipped that part (so I can't say if it's too graphic or not), but I enjoy them and you might too, so I'm including them.

Halloweenie by adavice- Rated E. 13,217 words. Mpreg AU where Will is a monster and impregnates Hannibal. Has a Rape/Non-Con tag.

Iridescent by Stanxiety- Rated E. 7,258 words. Merman Will, trans Hannibal, interspecies relationship, mpreg.

On Top by bcomplex- Rated G, but there is some sexual content, so I think the rating is a little iffy here. 2,087. AU where Will and Hannibal get together a lot sooner. Told from the POV of Winston, which makes it hilarious.

Prevision by Dreams_in_Silence- Rated T. 1,169 words. Omega verse, mpreg, Christmas fluff. I honestly can't remember which one this is. I read it once, but it's in my history, so I know I enjoyed it.

Lecture Time with Doctor Lecter by Entity_Sylvir- Rated M. 4,023 words. Omega verse AU where alpha Hannibal and omega Will teach at a high school, and Hannibal has to give the students their sex education lesson. The author wrote it to explain their omega verse, and it is funny.

And this last one isn't a one-shot, actually, but I always read it by hitting Entire Work, so it flows easier, so I always think of it as a oneshot.

Letters to Hannibal by ElizaLeto- Rated M. 7,305 words. Mpreg, AU where Will goes off to war without knowing that Hannibal is pregnant. Told through the letters written to each other. Currently incomplete, but still worth checking out, and best read by hitting View Entire Work.

Hope this helps and you find ones you enjoy!

GUYS DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY HANNIGRAM FIC RECS THAT ARE ONESHOTS PLEASE IM READING ENOUGH 200K+ WORD FANFICTIONS ALREADY I NEED QUICK READS!!! (preferably on ao3) i will literally kiss your forehead if u gimme recs…

[bookishlydazed]

Book Review: Honey Girl by Morgan Rodgers

Rating: **** 4.75/5

Pacing: Medium

Description:

With her newly completed PhD in astronomy in hand, twenty-eight-year-old Grace Porter goes on a girls’ trip to Vegas to celebrate. She is not the kind of person who goes to Vegas and gets drunkenly married to a woman whose name she doesn’t know…until she does exactly that.

This one moment of departure from her stern ex-military father’s plans for her life has Grace wondering why she doesn’t feel more fulfilled from completing her degree. Staggering under the weight of her father’s expectations, a struggling job market and feelings of burnout, Grace flees her home in Portland for a summer in New York with the wife she barely knows.

When reality comes crashing in, Grace must face what she’s been running from all along—the fears that make us human, the family scars that need to heal and the longing for connection, especially when navigating the messiness of adulthood.

Review (Spoiler Free):

I absolutely loved this book. I wasn't a huge fan of the premies and only chose to read it cause it was a shorter one with less than 300 pages. Honey Girl was such and unexpected joy to read. From the very beginning this book grabbed me and sucked me into the story I almost couldn't put it down. If not for life getting in the way I would have finished it in one sitting. It definitely gave me Solitaire by Alice Osman vibes so if you like that you would probably like this one to.

First off Morgan Rodgers writing is so beautiful. the way her words spoke to me was insane I loved it. Graces journey over the course of this novel was relatable and inspiring. You see her rise and fall. this book really spoke to me. I would definitely recommend this book it was so good.

this next bit has a few little SPOILERS

There were few things I didn't love about this book like her interactions with her parents they mostly just didn't make a a lot of sense to me. and maybe that because I couldn't fully relate or understand her parents but there reactions were a bit strange. and her friends reaction to her leaving and needing a break. it was almost like they didn't want to her to heal. very very weird because then they would say things like "we only want what's best for you" I don't know I was weird.

I do wish that we could have seen a little bit more of Yuki and Grace cause I really felt that I didn't get a great since of their relationship. I would love for Morgan to write a second book about their life in New York anyhow things have changed. I would buy it immediately.

Quotes (there are quite a few):

"They are doing their best for all the people that star up at the dark and do not know that they, too, shine brilliantly." (pg 23)

"She thinks, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, like a mantra. She has to be okay, because there is no other option. She is okay because she must be." (pg 31)

"Who else, Grace wonders, can understand loneliness if not someone who sits in solitude all their own?" (pg 49)

"The Grace Porter I know isn't afraid of anything. The Grace Porter Grace knows is afraid of so many things. she is afraid of disappointing people. She is afraid of straying from her carefully curated life plan." (pg 53)

""I wonder", Yuki asks quietly, "do you ever get scared like I do? Do you ever wonder how things will come together, and how things will fall apart?"" (pg 59)

""I put my head down and grit my teeth for a long time, and I never stopped to consider if it was good for me. If--if things would be different now if I had been honest with myself from the start about what I would need and how I would get it. I haven't been" she starts to pinch her skin and catches herself. "I haven't thought about myself or taken care of myself for awhile now.""(pg 97)

"you know being vulnerable and honest is not weak." (pg 248)

plus many others that are one my Goodreads account if you want to check them out!

[son-of-pendragon]

@aviilion continued from here

Honestly, the thing that was the hardest for Mordred to comprehend, was how gently and carefully she touched him. While with the witch that had raised him a raised hand meant that pain was sure to follow, with this iteration of his mother, it meant that she wished to bestow affection upon him. Still, conditioned responses died even harder than old habits, and so the teen even flinched a bit at her motherly touch. A moment later, however, he willed himself to relax into her hand -- much the way a cat might, when being pet. The soft humming of a lullaby eased some of the tension in his frame, calmed some of the anxiety thrumming just under his skin.

A pause in her words made blue-green eyes flutter open (when had he closed them? when he had felt comfortable and content enough to do so?) to peer questioningly up through dark gold bangs. When his mother continued speaking, the young Saber distinctly felt that she had meant so say something entirely different. And yet, a soft (if awkward) embrace derailed any thoughts he might have had concerning the Caster’s words. While he didn’t automatically lean into the touch, as he was a bit busy reeling from the unexpected warmth, Mordred did force himself to respond as quickly as he was able. Leaning into the hug the way he had done with the touch to his head, he allowed himself to rest his head against her chest and shoulder, arms coming up to wrap around Morgan’s waist.

“Thank you, mother,” he murmured, smile soft and surprisingly genuine.

[happy74827]

Dusty

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After getting a call to come into your apartment, Dexter realises you’re acting different than usual. 

WC: 822

Category: Angst

If you enjoyed, please don’t be afraid to comment and reblog!! Feedback is much appreciated.

『••✎••』

The sounds of Jim Croce circled around his ears, blaring from the old vinyl record. It resided on the old desk, spinning ‘round and ‘round. It was about as old and dusty as his sense of morals.

Time in a Bottle. It was a simple but emotional song. Whenever he heard the tune, he mostly thought of Harry, reminding him of how much he had risked for his sake. Yet, this time was different.

He didn’t think of Harry. He thought of you. 

He thought of your bright smile over the years, despite it being a rough couple of years. The way your eyes would gleam over the sight of a bookstore, dragging his wallet along with you. The picture of you in his mind could be the result of the fact that he was in your apartment, waiting for your inevitable return, or the fact that this was one of your favorite songs you owned.

Despite the reasoning, you were on his mind.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Dex.” Your voice came into play, an apologetic smile plastered on your face. “I really had to go take a—”

“No, that’s… that’s okay.” He stopped you before you finished that sentence. “You don’t gotta go into detail.”

You chuckled slightly, slowly walking over to where he stood. He couldn’t help but notice your slight nervousness, your slight hesitation as if you were intimidated. Granted, you were a shy-kind of girl — he knew that. But, this was different. You were friends since college… lab partners to be exact. It wasn’t like he never stepped foot in your apartment before. Hell… he visited you all the time.

At this point, you were as close to him as Deb was. You even visited Rita a couple of times, going out to brunch together, before the incident. Needless to say, you were crushed after that phone call from Debra. He remembered how you physically ran to the house, for miles, not being in any proximity of a car. The way you embraced him, as he sat there unable to think… even move…

So, that’s why this was weird. You never acted this way. Not towards him, anyhow.

“What’s up?” He asked you. Straightforward and effective.

“Oh… yeah,” You stammered, running a hand through your hair. “I just started this really… really sad book…”

Lie.

“Oh, really?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly. Maybe it would help ease your obvious uneasiness. “What is it about?”

“…about a girl losing her family. I haven’t gotten that far.”

For the longest time he knew you tended to look away when you lied. Even without that basic knowledge, your eyes and tone gave it away. He knew people very well. It’s why he was always successful in Harry’s code. Rarely ever had he been surprised. Having known you for more than ten years, he had you down right to the point.

He spoke your name in a low tone to gather your attention, putting on his best concerned face. He witnessed your face deflate as you came to the realization that he wasn’t fooled. “What's the real reason you called me over? I know this isn’t all about some book.”

You turn to face him, his eyes — squinting and studying yours. The dark passenger was attempting to take hold of the conversation, but he had it contained. It was getting impatient, craving more and more each passing second. Your hesitation didn’t help much either.

It was then — at that moment, he recognized it. Your eyes, your once bubbly eyes were now foggy. Dusty. He knew those eyes. He stared into those eyes for years in regard to Rita, slowly watching them form and heal. But, no matter how much they’ve healed, the scars forever remained. The terror was never forgotten.

The overcoming realization caused him to lose hold of the dark passenger. A sliver of his real self came onto the display. Not enough to scare someone away, but enough to notice. Enough to notice Dexter wasn’t exactly the Dexter everyone knew.

“Who?” His voice came out in a low growl. His eyes, dark with rage.

The on-growing terror forming on your face only proved his fears. While he was screwing around with Travis Marshall, you were cowering in fear. He was neglectful, how did he not have noticed this earlier? As friends go, he was a shitty one. You needed him — that’s why you called, you've come to that realization  —  but he wasn’t there as a friend, just an outsider peaking in. 

It was clear by your face that you noticed his change in demeanor. But, shockingly, it made you relax more. You lowered your tense shoulders, looking up at him. Your pleading, begging eyes told the story. They told him everything he needed to know. Told him what you secretly wanted. All he needed now was...

“His name was Nicholas.” 

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 6)

Summary: Derek tries to give Spencer advice, and Bunny and Spencer try to ride out the storm. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Allusions to sexual thoughts/desires, brief mention of Lolita and teacher crushes Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————

It had been twenty four hours, and I could still feel her. I’d never stopped feeling her. Her lips had scalded me, scarring every inch of where she’d kissed me. Even my heart was poisoned by the taste of her, having changed its tune in a way that felt permanent.

The feeling alone would have been survivable. Manageable, even. But that was not the only way she infiltrated my innermost thoughts.

‘Professor,’ she’d pleaded with her voice crackling like a bush fire that swallowed honeysuckles that refused to burn quietly, ‘Please.’

I wondered what she would have said, what she would have begged for if her words hadn’t been interrupted by the gentle, broken sounds of her pleasure. I wondered how close she must have been to crumbling like dried petals between my fingers.

That look in her eyes, although barely visible, haunted me. Because there was nothing that even slightly resembled fear or regret. It was only lust, the same unimaginable, all-consuming desire that I felt, reflected back at me through her eyes.

I tasted the fine wine on a sweet, youthful tongue. A reminder that she was too naive to know her own limits. That she would unwittingly drown in the honey of herself. The cloying sweetness of her lips that couldn’t close; too busy singing my praise, just as I’d dreamed that they would.

She was everything I dreamed she would be.

And I couldn’t have her ever again.

“Reid! Earth to Spencer Reid!”

The call came with a soft thwack to the side of my head, and I realized just how far I’d fallen into the fantasy.

Derek was looking at me like I’d sprouted a second, and possibly third, head as he asked, “What the hell is going on in there?”

“What? I’m sorry,” I mumbled nonsensically before adding on what should have been obvious, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just... distracted.”

I thought that withholding any further explanation would be the safer bet, but I shouldn’t have underestimated Derek Morgan’s profiling skills. The time away from the BAU seemed to have only sharpened them, and with just a single glance at my nervous, fidgety figure, his shoulders dropped.

“Oh, no,” he groaned, “Don’t tell me...”

“Please, stop,” I whined, because I knew what was coming.  

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t sleep with little miss Bunny.”

“No,” I quickly and gruffly corrected, “I didn’t sleep with her.”

But again, he was too sharp to let the nuance slide unnoticed. I’d already confirmed his concerns that she was the focus of my torment, although I doubt he really needed me to say it. The fact that I corrected him so narrowly only led him down an even worse collection of possibilities.

“Don’t lie to me, kid,” he warned.  

“I didn’t sleep with her!” I repeated louder, as if it would absolve the pit in my stomach or stop my best friend from looking at me like that. With eyes full of both sympathy and frustration at just how stupid I could be.

I gave a heavy sigh of resignation and covered my face with my hands. It seemed easier to reveal the truth that way.

“I just... we might have... kissed.”

“You kissed?” he scoffed, clearly recognizing that I was still leaving out the details that plagued my thoughts.

It was too humiliating to get into all of my indiscretions at the moment, though. He could already tell that I was a wreck — I didn’t need to put any visuals in his mind of myself nor the young girl I’d robbed of at least one petal.

“And maybe some other stuff,” I muttered, vividly recalling just how beautiful she looked as she called for me.

How her thighs were so warm and inviting, and how her lips trembled with every moan. I could feel her body shaking, struggling to comprehend just how harshly I handled her. I wanted to be gentle, I did, but she was just so fucking pliable, so impressionable and prone to defilement, I couldn’t help myself.

“God, I’m so stupid,” I groaned, my hands tugging on the same hair her hands had run through, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You like her. That’s not a bad thing,” Derek tried to reason.

He didn’t understand. How could he? With hands that were clean and capable of love?

“It is a bad thing! I can’t— I can’t like her!”

Although rattled by the volume with which I’d spoken, he didn’t let it dissuade him from finding and addressing the issue at the root of it all.

“Why? Is there some rule against you two being together?”

“No.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“So why not? She clearly likes you. Just see where it goes.”

Why didn’t he get it?

“Derek, I can’t do that to her,” I croaked, feeling my eyes wet and wondering if it was from the death grip I had on my head or the things happening within it.

“Do what?” he asked, shattering the last shackle that held my thoughts safely behind the thick walls of self-hatred and selfishness.

“Trap her with me!” I yelled. My hands flew from their position, and I held them stretched out in front of me. I needed him to see how they shook from the weight that they held. His eyes, like hers, immediately flickered to the imperfections.

Derek was better at looking away than her. I wonder if it’s because he saw the failure like I did. If he saw mistakes made by the both of us, rather than a reminder that my body was capable of surviving.

“It’s not a trap if she wants to be there, Reid.”

They were the same words I would’ve given him if the situation was reversed. I knew that there was logic and reason in them, but I just couldn’t allow any conclusion where I was allowed to be happy.

“No, it is. It is a trap. Because I’m a... a goddamn black hole!” I shouted, no longer capable or willing to hold it back, “Everything I touch falls apart. JJ, Maeve, Cat, Max, my mom, I…!”

When I looked up at him, I saw the understanding in his eyes. I saw that some part of him could connect with the words I was saying. I continued, confident in my decision to willfully misinterpret and weaponize that look to prove that the words were true.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s so young and she has so much to give, and if I take it from her, I will destroy it like I do with everything else that is good.”

That I was undeserving of anything resembling love. Especially if it came from her.

After a moment of silence and mercy, Derek spoke again.

“That’s not true,” was all he said. Like he could will it to be false any better than I could.

“Isn’t it?” I laughed to hopefully stall the tears that had already started to fall, “Look me in my eyes and tell me that she doesn’t deserve someone that isn’t broken.”

He opened his mouth to speak but must have decided it wasn’t worth the breath. He averted his eyes for just a couple seconds — enough to cleanse his palate of the pain that was pouring from me. As soon as his gaze returned, I was generous enough to replace the pain with apathy. To spare him from suffering the same way I was trying to do for her.

“She’s so young, and I’ve already stolen enough from her. She shouldn’t have to pick up my mess. She should get a chance to live free from all of... this.”

Derek brought his hand to his lips, clasped together in thought and something else. A quiet kind of hopefulness that he might be able to guide me through this in time.

He always was the more optimistic of the two of us.  

“You want to know what I’m hearing?” he asked.

And despite all of my stubborn blubbering, I really, really did.

“What?”

“That you must really like that girl a lot to be willing to give up everything you want so she can be happy,” he said, “A damned fool, but one with good intentions.”

Just like that, he crushed my preconceived notions of myself. Wielding nothing but a solemn laugh and a few words uttered like a joke, Derek took the little bit left of my frostbitten heart and tried to bring it back to life.

“I do really like her,” I answered before anxiously biting on my lip to stop anything else from sneaking past my defenses.  

Because we both knew it was a lie. Derek wasn’t going to point it out, and I would forever be grateful to him for that.

The truth was, I didn’t like her.

I was falling madly in love with her, and I didn’t know how to stop.

I didn’t want to, either.

————————————————

Leave it to the Virginia weather to change at the drop of a hat. It wasn’t a terribly cold day, and for that I was grateful. I couldn’t call myself completely devoid of luck — after all, I’d managed to find a collection of plastic bags to wrap my electronics in, and I’d worn a jacket with a hood.

Unfortunately, however, my luck ended there.

I tried to find myself somewhere far away, but the beating of rain and tiny pieces of hail hitting my head honestly felt more fitting. If it wasn’t the world punishing me for being a stupid, careless idiot, I didn’t understand why else it would be storming this badly in the middle of November.

It’d been three days since I’d see Spencer. The weekend was the same length as every other week, but it felt longer. Perhaps it was because we hadn’t really been texting each other, which was unusual.

Or maybe it was the fact we kissed.

It was probably that one.

I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do. Was it on me to text him? Was it his responsibility? That seemed vaguely sexist, or I suppose ageist, to think that he was meant to take all the steps. But I’d literally never been in this situation before, and despite his greater experience in the world of love, I sort of doubted that he had, either.

By the time I had returned to the party, he had been long gone. I didn’t entirely blame him; I left shortly thereafter myself. But I would be lying if I pretended like it didn’t bother me at least a little bit that he’d run away so quickly.

It was only to be expected, though. The longer I thought about our conversation, the more I blamed myself for where we ended up. That wasn’t to say that I regretted it, but just that I better understood his decisions.

I didn’t regret it. Because at the end of the day, pity or pride or whatever other reason, Spencer Reid had decided that he was willing to kiss me.

He wanted to kiss me… and possibly wanted to do a lot more than that.

The rain seemed lighter after the conclusion was reached. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to fight the way the butterflies in my stomach took flight in the strong winds. The people driving past must have thought that I was mad, to be smiling while standing drenched and clutching nothing but a soaked book bag, but I didn’t care.

I was ready to tell them as much, too. As soon as the car in front of me stopped, my mouth quickly dropped open to explain that I didn’t need to be rescued.

But then I saw him, with his eyes wide and his hands frantically waving faster than the window could open. The one man that I would be willing to let save me from any kind of storm.

“Professor?”

“What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled, “Get in the car!”

“But—“

“Get in the car!”

I’d learned a while ago that it wasn’t worth it to fight him. Running through the puddle off the curb, I scrambled into his car without regard for just how awkward it would be when the door shut.

“I was waiting for the bus,” I said with hurried breath.

Spencer wasn’t amused nor thrilled by my explanation.

“Are you joking? You’re drenched!”

For whatever reason, I glanced down at the state of me. My dripping backpack was sat on my lap, as if the rest of me wasn’t already soaking through every inch of once-dry textile.

“I’m sorry! I’m going to get your seat all wet!”

“I don’t care about the seat; I’m worried you’re going to get sick!” he huffed.

Despite the fact I was certain it was meant to be a chastisement for having gotten myself in that situation in the first place, it was very cute. His eyes couldn’t stay off me for very long at all, flicking back and forth from the road to the soaked girl in his passenger seat.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked, his voice finally having settled at an appropriate volume.

“I’m fine,” I answered quickly. But when his shoulders didn’t fall and his eyes remained troubled, I provided a more honest addition, “I’m just... embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

Spencer must have realized that his worrywart tendencies had made me feel guilty, because he gave a heavy sigh before he spoke again.

“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I saw you.”

The sadness in his tone made it hard to believe him. Not to mention the fact that we hadn’t spoken in days. Before we’d kissed I could usually count the number of hours without him on one hand. I had even started to worry that he never slept.

I was trying to avoid looking at him because I didn’t want him to see the anxiety in my eyes. But after a few seconds of watching the water drip down the passenger window, I realized how pointless my efforts were. Even if I was wrong, and he couldn’t read my mind, he was certainly a good enough profiler to realize why I was freezing him out.

Also, he didn’t know where I lived.

“So uh... Where did you want to take me?”

“Oh right! I’ll take you home,” he said with a chuckle that I might dare to describe as disappointed, “Are you okay to give directions?”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t hide my disappointment. Not as well as him, anyway.

I only lasted approximately two minutes in the silence before it became too uncomfortable to bear. I wrote it off as my terrible habit of overthinking. Even it was true that we’d ruined our relationship already, I didn’t want to admit it just yet.

“Can I turn on the radio?” I asked, instead.

“Oh,” he mumbled, looking down at untouched dials like there was a memory or secret stored within them, “Sure. Go ahead.”

The first station that came on was silent. So quiet that I was almost convinced I hadn’t actually turned it on. But the station numbers were staring back at me, and I was too afraid to touch the volume knob.

But then it happened, slowly but surely, a familiar tune building up to a cruel, cruel verse. The sultry and suggestive beat had me snickering before the words had even started, and Spencer also wasted little time interrupting my amusement.

“Something funny?” he asked. Like he didn’t already know.

“Hmmm. No,” I hummed, happy to taunt him with the joy that the coincidence brought me.

Young teacher, the subject

Of schoolgirl fantasy

She wants him so badly

Knows what she wants to be

Instead of letting it go so easily, I continued with the same, cheerful cadence, “Did you know Sting was a high school teacher?”

“I did.”

“He swears it isn’t autobiographical and was inspired by Lolita, but... Bit of a creep, no?”

“Yes,” he answered with a stern voice and raised eyebrows, “Creepy.”

Inside him, there's longing

This girl's an open page

There was really no telling what gave me the confidence that followed. By all accounts, I should have been dissuaded by his apparent refusal to discuss the ten ton elephant in the room. But there was just something in the way his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. I could trace the tension that continued to fill the space between us, and it all led back to him.

Book marking, she's so close now

This girl is half his age

I realized something in that moment. I’m not a profiler, and I’m not really great at reading a lot of social clues, either. But I was absolutely, positively sure in my deduction that my boss and Professor, Spencer Reid, was absolutely terrified of me.

It wasn’t the usual terror - it was an abject horror. The overwhelming fear that accompanied having none of the power he usually held. Just as Sting had wanted to portray, there was a thick, undeniable guilt and frustration filling the four door sedan.

And I knew how to make it so much worse.

“Twenty five isn’t half of forty, though,” I said.

Spencer turned to look at me with narrowed eyes and a curled tongue.

“Excuse me?”

“It isn’t,” I reasserted with a shrug.  

“Are you implying something, Bunny?”

Sticking my bottom lip out and humming a quick, high note, I corrected, “No, I’m doing math.”

His lips turned to a smirk that only barely hid his true feelings. The undercurrent of fear ran along each syllable as he asked, “Where did the numbers come from?”

Don't stand, don't stand so

Don't stand so close to me

Choosing not to answer the pointed question, I turned to him. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a flat, sarcastic chuckle that almost sounded angry.

“You really think it has nothing to do with us?”

Don't stand, don't stand so

Don't stand so close to me

Any humor fell from his face so quickly that I started to doubt it had ever existed. He’d heard the insecurity and hurt behind my poor attempts at a joke, or flirting, or whatever the hell it had been. I saw myself reflected in his eyes right before he ripped them away from me.

The sound of the song faded to the back of my mind, drowned out by his persistent self-castigation. The obvious hatred that he held for himself was being projected on my skin for the first time. Every place where he had touched me, I could almost see the burn marks of areas he’d deemed corrupted by his hands.  

He gave himself too much credit, to think that he could taint me so easily.

“Trust me, Bunny,” he interjected with a sigh, “If fate had any control over the radio, it would pick a more suitable song.”

I wanted to believe him. Something told me that it might make it hurt less.

Temptation, frustration

So bad it makes him cry

But I didn’t believe him at all.

“Are you sure, Professor?”

Wet bus stop, she's waiting

His car is warm and dry

Spencer didn’t answer my question. His hand that had been in a white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel shot over to the controls. The song cut off, only to be replaced by another, more somber, tune.

I didn’t need to listen closely to recognize The Smiths, and the title of the track alone was fitting enough to my feelings that I had to laugh.

Please, please, please, let me get what I want.

I laughed, and he followed with a sad little smirk. One that I was already accustomed to. The one he wore every time I left. Every time but the last time.

We pulled up to the stoplight in front of my apartment, and I wondered if this would be a necessary one-off awkwardness, or if it would always be like this from then on.

It seemed impossible, though. How could I buy into this ending? To believe that he would really let something like that ruin all of the fun we’d had together thus far? Because it wasn’t all about the physical spark. The only reason the fire had grown so quickly was because the kindling was plentiful.

There was something in me that made him want to burn. I knew because I felt it, too.

Every time he looked at me, without fail, I found myself lost in the mesmerizing dance of fiery golden halos. I had watched the lightning strike and scar the wise, frail trunk of him. I choked on the smoke of his voice and my hands splintered over the scarred skin.

So for once in my life

Let me get what I want

“That’s funny, Professor,” I whispered.

Lord knows, it would be the first time

Lord knows, it would be the first time

He didn’t ask for clarification, but I gave it anyway.

“I think fate might be a little better than you thought.”

At the same time his eyes left mine, the awful screeching of alarms blared through the speakers. Spencer’s reaction was immediate and visceral — he winced like it caused him actual pain, and I felt that suffering in return.

He still managed to pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex with ease, which was impressive considering both the tension inside the car and the storm raging outside. We both waited for the telltale tone to end, still not looking one another in the eye.

But then the faceless, robotic voice spoke the words Spencer had clearly been anticipating and dreading.

“The National Weather Service in your area has issued a Tornado Warning...”  

“Really?! In November?!” I whined.

The cry distracted Spencer from our current circumstances enough that he felt comfortable looking me in the eyes again. The tension had dissipated with the equalizing charge of the disaster that seemed hellbent on following us.

“It’s actually less rare than you think,” he explained like it would help.

As the car finally came to a stop, I was stuck switching my gaze back and forth from my door to the man beside me.

“Just— will you come inside?” I finally asked. Before he could deny my request, I tried to reassure him, “Just for a minute. I don’t want you out in this.”

I saw the word ‘no’ on his tongue, but the fate he’d discounted so easily came back to bite him. It came with fury, rage, and a power line across the street snapped clean in half.

From the safety of the car, which was rapidly declining by the second, Spencer met my eyes yet again. I watched the hundreds of possibilities play out in small stretches of hazel.

I don’t know what he saw, but once he informed me of the conclusion, I didn’t care anymore.

“... Fine,” he said like a curse.

Together, we scrambled out of the car into whipping winds and hail that hit harder than before. There was no comforting conclusion this time to soften the blow, either.

At least, not until Spencer took me by the hand. His fingers laced between mine, and for the briefest of seconds, I recalled memories of them everywhere else. I recognized the markings that I’d pressed against my lips and it lit a fire in me.

That flame was enough to get us inside, damp and drenched in our respective states. We didn’t say a word as we navigated the short hallway. Spencer was too busy surveying the area around us to notice when the door had opened, but luckily, my hand remained in his.

He followed my lead with a surprising lack of fight or friction. He didn’t even look where he was headed, trusting that I wouldn’t pull him into danger or disaster.

Unfortunately, it did mean that he stepped directly into me. Thankfully, we both remained standing, but it just brought more attention to our current circumstances. The painful proximity that felt reminiscent of the last time we’d seen each other.

I stared up at him, waiting to see if he would have anything at all to say.

He did, but it wasn’t anything close to what I wanted to hear.

“You should change,” he said before pausing to clear his throat, “y-you know… So you don’t get sick.”

“Right,” was all I said in return.

There wasn’t anything wrong with his concern; prior to the events of the party, I might have even considered it cute and a bit flirtatious. He was always so worried about me; it couldn’t be that he only saw me as an employee. I might have been able to convince myself he saw me as a child, but our last contact had laid rest to that theory.

I was the one to take my hand back first. It hurt every step of the way, but once I had possession of myself again, I remembered the way he had looked at me in the car. That undeniable, pathetic pity he’d forced onto me.

Trapped in an odd state of perpetual anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion, I allowed myself to step away from him just long enough to change. But as I caught my reflection when I stepped out of the room, I noticed just how much of me had changed already.

I wasn’t talking about my clothes, although the difference was reflected in them, as well.

By the time I returned to the main room, Spencer had shed a couple layers. He stood in the exact same place I’d left him, wearing only a slightly damp undershirt and the same, familiar slacks.

He hadn’t noticed my presence yet, too busy staring forward at the wall like it would reveal some secrets to him. Like he could feel the memories that had been built there, and he was trying to read them with the same proficiency he read the daily paper.

I eyed his figure the same way he normally did to me. But while his viewing was unabashed, mine only lasted until he turned around. Until he caught me, with my arms full of blankets and my eyes full of a distant longing he’d experienced firsthand.

“Should we get in the bathtub?” I asked, earning the first genuine, carefree laugh of the day.

“Would that make you feel better?” he asked in return.

“... I think so?” I said, conveniently leaving off the fact that it was his proximity and not the porcelain that comforted me.

I think he knew, anyway. I hoped he did. It would have made his answer far more exciting.

“Then sure,” he answered, “Let’s do it.”

The walk to my bathroom felt like a labyrinth. Time moved differently, and the creaking floorboards reminded me of the regretful, panicked screams of those poor souls trapped on Tartarus.

But my eyes remained transfixed on the man in front of me, whose hands had been stuffed into pockets to prevent me from being able to hold them again. It seemed so like him to be able to navigate a place he’d never been.

I questioned if it was wrong to idolize him this way. To compare him to a god, even when that one was a lonely, tired, god who had been damned to the only realm they would dare name after him.

I followed him, trying not to imagine myself as that chthonic maiden of Spring and seeds. I tried not to compare the storm outside to the rumblings of the earth before it opened to swallow her whole.

I thought not of pomegranates, nor how they might taste on his lips.

Had I already consumed them? Or would I be denied the option entirely?

The two of us lacked any grace or godliness as we struggled to fit ourselves in the tiny base. Our feet touched in the middle, and I once again noticed the way his socks never matched.

The sound of my laughter in the acoustics of the room was enough to break through the tension. Spencer’s quickly followed, and he hugged his awkward crossed legs while simultaneously leaning forward.

“So, Bunny, now that I have you here… I have to ask.”

The question alone caused my adrenaline levels to spike. I was afraid that he could hear my heart pounding in response, but then he introduced an entirely new fear.

I didn’t see the way he reached out until his hands were on me. Not touching my skin this time, but once again running over a barrier of plush fabric that kept us apart. It wasn’t unlike our time on Halloween, except for the fact I now knew what it felt like for there to be nothing left between us.

I almost forgot he had a question to ask, too mesmerized by the soft patterns drawn by his thumb. My eyes were half-lidded and far away when he did speak through a rather cheeky little chuckle.

“Did these come before or after me?”

The spell was broken by my shocked blinking. I glanced down at myself and remembered that I’d been trying to beat him at this game.

That was the whole reason I’d picked the pajamas that sported a pattern of little bunnies.

“A bit arrogant to assume you have that much of an effect on my decisions,” I mumbled with both sarcasm and embarrassment.

Spencer was still laughing, obviously taking a great amount of pride in his ability to turn my brain to mush with a simple touch. One that continued as he inched closer, dragging fingers all the way down my thigh as he answered, “So… after, then?”

To avoid answering the question, I did the only rational thing.

“You look ridiculous,” I teased.

He accepted the distraction as my white flag. While I hated losing the warmth of his hand on me, I still enjoyed how much more comfortable he seemed now that we’d returned to our usual dynamic. That low-stakes, competitive banter. The things that allowed us to hide how badly we really wanted to feel one another again.

“Tubs are not made for tall people,” he sighed, “It’s a curse.”

“You’re hardly tall.”

“I’m taller than you,” he shot back just as quickly.

There were many ways to resolve this childish conflict. I could continue to play into his desires — accept and acknowledge him as an authority in more ways than one. I could act like the innocent schoolgirl he’d obviously perceived me to be.

Or I could do what I wanted to do. I could show him that the things that we’d done had altered me. I could display for him the effects that he’d had and hopefully prove to him that not all of them were bad.

I could exist in a closed space with him without losing my breath entirely. My heart would keep beating, albeit harder and faster, despite having handed it to him a full three days before.

I could show him that I was no less a woman than when he had me pinned against a door, defenseless by choice. Wholly his, without regret.

“Okay, fine,” I announced just before I tackled him back against a wall of pillows and blankets.

Spencer’s laughter was so loud that it almost hurt my ears; as much as such a thing could bring pain, anyway. The two of us floundered in the small space, with my hands pulling at his calves and positioning his arms in a flagrantly carefree way.

There was absolutely no resistance on his part. His limbs were like doll pieces, staying exactly where I’d led them. He stayed, laughing and smiling until I’d convinced him to put his legs out in front of him. He didn’t protest at all when I curled up against him with my back to his chest and his arms wrapped around me.

“Is that better, Dr. Long Legs?” I hummed happily as I settled into my new position between his legs.

“Is that supposed to be a pun?” he asked. I didn’t have to see the look on his face to know that he said it through a smile. I could feel it in the way his hands settled and smoothed over my lower stomach.

At first, I tensed at his touch. I held my breath until I felt dizzy before I reminded myself that I wasn’t meant to be nervous when he held me. That I was trying to prove to him how capable I was of intimacy.

I wasn’t scared of him, like he was of me.

“I thought it was pretty good,” I muttered once my body allowed itself to relax in the safety of his arms.  

And to my surprise, he agreed.

“It was good,” he whispered.

It was surprising, but only to the extent that it hadn’t been about the pun at all.

I could only hope, anyway. It was the most favorable of the possible reasons that he seemed so comfortable when his fingers tucked under the hem of my top.

I didn’t want to believe that he was acting this way because he was playing a game. I wanted to trust my instincts that told me he had been touching me without thinking. Or perhaps, thinking too much. Remembering the way that he’d felt the other night the same way the thoughts had consumed me for days.

I threw myself into those fantasies, imagining how they would shift if we’d waited until now to give in to one another. How much easier it would have been to transition into my room. How much freer he was to touch me in safer, more suitable ways.

When his fingers tucked under the very top of the fluffy fabric of my pants, the lights began to flicker. It was the signal to the end. Enough of a scolding from the heavens that woke Spencer from his own daydreams and reminded him of where we were in the present.

“Sorry,” he announced, like his touch had been offensive. He pulled his hands away, resting them over one another on top of my lap, instead. “I was just… distracted.”

“It’s alright, Professor. I like when you touch me,” I mumbled before nuzzling further into his embrace. I didn’t shy away from nor feel any shame from the obvious statement of fact.

But in my peripherals, I saw the way it caused his forehead to wrinkle and his lips to curve in a notable frown. I saw the displeasure stemming from my desire to keep his hands on me, and I wondered if his disappointment in himself had anything to do with me at all.

It didn’t feel that way.

“Are you comfortable enough now?” I asked, hoping to distract him from the unhappiness.

It worked like a charm.

“Yes,” he replied. His smile returned in full force with fingers tapping over his own skin now. “We should hang out in tubs more often.”

“I don’t know, it makes me kind of sleepy,” I said with the most exhausted little giggle.

I half-expected him to make his exit then. To guide me or carry me off to a more suitable place to rest my head. Because I could feel the way his heart beat like unsteady, broken wings fighting against the wind currents of hurricane gusts.

Spencer Reid’s heart was not a place where sleep could be found easily, if at all. But over time, I heard how it shifted to a more predictable rhythm. I felt him calm and his tension ease just like it had in his office.

“You can go to sleep if you want,” he said once he was confident that his heart wasn’t in my way, “There are worse ways to get through a storm.”

His voice always carried such a somber melody, even in moments such as these. I heard the longing and emptiness, the echo of a small boy that still existed somewhere. I could hear him, his voice small and broken as he cried, Please, don’t leave.

But was he even talking to me?

Please, I need someone.

Would I be enough?

I need you to stay.

Would he want me to be if I could?

Please, don’t let me leave.

I hadn’t realized the way my whole face had gravitated to look up at him until his hand cradled my cheek. His thumb wiped at invisible tears on my cheek like he saw something I didn’t.

I didn’t dare look him in the eyes… until I did.

And I drowned exactly like I knew I would. My bottom lip trembled with a memory of pain that didn’t belong to me. I realized then that I hadn’t been making it up. I saw that little boy in his eyes, reaching out and holding onto the only person who’d ever stopped to really look at him.

I really thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t.

Spencer’s fingers drifted down from my cheek along with his eyes. They looked off at nothing in particular, failing to focus on anything at all.

“Professor, about the other night...” I started, hoping to finally explain myself or at least hear his own reasoning.

Those dreams were crushed even more quickly than I thought possible.

“Let’s not,” he said with a startling amount of finality.

“What?” I asked, my voice box audibly projecting the sound of my heart breaking in front of him.

“Do you remember what you said about expectations?”

‘At least it’d be over, right? And it wouldn’t mean anything.’

How could I forget one of the first lies I’d told him?

‘It won’t hurt when it amounts to nothing.’

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

Was I meant to lie again? What other option did I have? My heart was already cracked and aching in his hands, and he didn’t seem to have any desire to hold it together any longer.

“I guess,” I lied, knowing he would hear the falsity in the two syllables the same way he’d seen nonexistent tears in my eyes.

“So... let’s not.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat and hoping that the action might make the word hurt less. Knowing that it wouldn’t.

“Okay,” I agreed.

I tried to shift under his arms, but Spencer grabbed hold of my shoulders and turned me towards him. I all but crawled onto him, trying to be as close as I could while he inspected the red rimming the eyes that he’d found comfort in.

I felt the force of the way he cursed himself under his breath, every part of his mouth trying to fight itself. Trying to find a way to say what he needed to without hurting me any more than he had.

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said almost like it were a bad thing. His hands almost let me go, but then they held on tighter. He smiled when he spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear it over winds still roaring outside, “You deserve to be handled delicately, and I am not a delicate man.”

I wanted to tell him that he was wrong, but I knew that I would never win an argument that required him to show himself any sort of kindness. He would never forgive himself the way I needed him to in order to understand what I saw.

He didn’t want to believe me, but he desperately wanted to believe in a world where his own insecurity wasn’t so all-encompassing. Where we weren’t doomed before we began.

“Maybe in another life,” he whispered, “but not this one. I’m sorry.”

With a small nod, I forced my lips to raise into something resembling a smile. I blinked away the few tears that gathered, not daring to let them fall, lest they take any chance I had with them.

Can I still be your bunny?

The question stayed sat on my tongue, unmoving. My eyes took it in turn, begging him to hear it and give me the answer I needed.

“I trust you to be right about that,” I croaked, masking the fractures with an equally broken laugh.

“I know,” he chuckled, pulling me in closer to him again. His arms wrapped possessively around me. I wilted in his embrace, curling in at the edges like petals facing their first frost.

“I am,” he reminded with the start of a lausgh that never really came to be, “I always, unfortunately, am.”

As his heart fell back into a regular rhythm, I wondered if the changes had ever been because of me. I thought of how our minds make unreliable connections and recognize imaginary correlations when we want something too hard.

Was that really all that we were? Haphazard wanting without a hope for finding what we sought?

When sleep came to me, I took it. Even nightmares seemed like a reprieve from the enmity inside my bathtub. I let myself take only comfort in his warmth and the way his hands still wandered carefully over the delicate curves of my body.

I dreamed of Spencer picking up the broken fragments he’d made of me and putting them back together like one of his puzzles. In that perfect world, we’d swapped pieces of ourselves and realized for the first time that we’d always been carrying the wrong ones.

The storm passed, but Spencer didn’t wake me. He waited for me to stir before he rushed for the exit. Just as he had before, he restlessly bolted to the door.

But this time he stopped, frozen in place in response to nothing but a simple farewell.

“Goodnight, Professor,” I said, thinking of the way Persephone must have felt when the sun started to drift too close again.

Spencer turned to me with those eyes that saw more than mine.

“Goodnight, Bunny,” was all he provided.  

But when the door clicked shut, it sounded a lot like an apology.

——————————————————

| Part Seven |

[spencermyangel]

could we get spencer ending up with heatstroke and needing to be cooled down in a cold bath/shower + either derek or hotch (or both) seeing fresh and old self harm and being shocked because they never noticed and some are recent and some are really bad

CW - Self-harm

“Reid?” Morgan looked at his best friend as he slightly swayed back and forth, sweat on his forehead. 

“Yeah?” Spencer whispered, looking at Morgan with dazed eyes.

Morgan walked closer to Spencer, “are you okay?” he asked. 

Spencer started to nod his head and took a step forward, but as he did he stumbled almost falling to the ground. Morgan’s eyes widened as he rushed forward to catch him. 

“What were you thinking wearing a cardigan in this heat?” Morgan shook his head as he helped Spencer over to the SUV. 

Spencer only shrugged as Morgan guided him into the car. Morgan whipped out his phone to call Hotch as he got in the car himself.

“Hotchner.”

“Listen, Hotch,” Morgan started, “Reid is overheated, he almost passed out. I’m going to take him to the hotel and give him a cool shower, okay?”

Hotch briefly paused, “Okay, I’ll meet you there,” he said, concern in his voice.

*

Morgan and Hotch undressed a dazed Spencer and quickly gave him a cool shower. But as Morgan removed his cardigan he was horrified to see his best friend's arms covered in scars, his heart pounding as he noticed a very deep one. He turned to show Hotch but only to realize he was staring at Spencer’s arms with wide eyes. They made eye contact with both of them silently agreeing to talk about this later. 

Spencer spent the next few days resting and as he began to recover Morgan and Hotch decided it was time to discuss what they had seen with him. 

Morgan and Hotch sat on chairs across from the bed Spencer was sitting in. 

“Spencer,” Hotch began, “we need to talk to you about something.” Spencer closed his book and nodded. 

“When we were cooling you down… I took off your cardigan and well,” Morgan hesitated, seeing fear flash in Spencer’s eyes, “your arms were covered in scars.”

There was a long moment of silence before Spencer hung his head in shame, “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Morgan told him, “but we want to help you, some were new. Did you… did you do that to yourself?” 

Spencer bit his lip and nodded, avoiding Hotch and Morgan’s eyes. 

“Why?” Hotch almost choked out. 

Spencer shrugged, tracing the designs on his book, “to punish myself, I guess.”

“Punish yourself for what?” Morgan furrowed his brow. 

“Being annoying, or messing up.”

“You’re not annoying!” Hotch and Morgan both said at the same time. 

“Yes I am,” Spencer muttered a tear slide down his cheek, “you guys can hardly stand to be around me.”

Guilt filled Morgan as he thought of all the times he had brushed Spencer off or told him to be quiet. “Reid, you don't annoy me. I’m sorry if I've ever made you feel like you do. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re like my little brother.” 

“He’s right,” Hotch agreed, “you're part of our family and we need you.”

“Really?” Spencer whispered, breaking Morgan and Hotch’s hearts with the disbelief in his voice. 

“Of course,” Hotch assured him, Morgan nodding along with both of them promising to make Spencer feel more appreciated.

 Send in asks and requests here

Masterlist

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated :)

[ghouligancentral]

Find Hell with me- Chapter 1

Platonic Bad Batch X Reader

Chapter 1- Wanna Find Hell with Me?

Summary- A western tale of loyalty, betrayal, and bravery -

The reader, a ranch hand and small-time thief, agrees to be a guide to the Bad Batch during their search for an outlaw. However, when she recognizes a familiar face, things get a little more complicated. 

A/N- This is set around 1900 in the deserts of New Mexico. Think of the movie “Tombstone” and you’ll get the general idea. Also I gave the boys names so that their “nicknames” make sense in the context of the time. It is as follows: 

Morgan Hunter (Hunter) 

John Cross  AKA John Bassett ( Crosshair) 

Warren Jones (Wrecker) 

Timothy Hughs (tech)

I didn’t include Echo or Omega because I just felt like I couldn’t work it into the story. Also Fem!reader

Any gore/violence warnings will be included at the beginning of the chapter in the Author's notes. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this. As always, Kudos and comments are always welcome and appreciated. Let me know if you have any idea for future fics.

Rated M for language, violence and gore. 

Warnings for chapter 1- Language

 Cross-posted on AO3

It was another hot day in this God forsaken town. You were inhabiting your usual spot in the back of Kate’s saloon, scouting out new marks, when two men you’ve never seen before stroll into the bar. It was not unusual for strangers to pass through these parts, but something about these men piqued your interest so you decided to listen in on their conversation. 

“What’ll it be boys?” the bartender asks as they walk up. 

“Whiskey,” the dark haired one grumbles. While their backs are turned, you decide that this is your chance to size each of them up.The gun belts strapped to their hips indicate they are not visiting just for pleasure. The one who ordered has his dark brown hair held back by a bandana. His suit indicates that he has some form of stable income, and, by the looks of the dark circles under his eyes, it’s not an easy job. Even with a birthmark covering half of his face, he is still what many would consider to be handsome. Ok dark and broody, who is your friend?  Unlike him, his friend has short hair. Even though he doesn’t look old enough, his hair is all grey. He has a scar over his eye and an ever present look of disgust adorning his face. You could have sworn you’d seen his face somewhere. 

Lawmen? Bounty hunters? You search your mind for some occupation that fits the two of them. 

The door swings open and you see two more strangers walk it. They must know each other since the men at the bar wave them over. The newcomers are quite the pair, one is a large muscular man that stands around 6’6 while the other is shorter and has oversized glasses on his face, making his eyes seem just a little too big for his head. Now we have Muscles and the Professor. This just keeps getting more interesting. 

“So you boys some kind of bounty hunters or something?” the bartender questions as he lean over the counter top to hand over their drinks. All of the men look back at the bartender before the gray haired one speaks. His voice is cold and calculating, the type you wouldn’t want to be on the bad side. But, judging from his next comment, you think that just about everyone is on his bad side. 

“What’s it to you?” he sneers. The bartender seems to get the message that none of them are interested in a conversation and turns around to leave the men to their drinks. He sure seems pleasant, probably gave himself that scar. 

The noise in the bar picks up, the piano drowns out their conversation. As the four of them quietly chat amongst themselves you make up your mind on who seems like the easiest target. 

Hmm Dark and Broady? No, poor man already looks like he’s been through enough without me stealing from him. Muscles? No. The Professor? Bingo

Dark and broody calls the bartender over to refill his glass, as the bartender does this he leans in and appears to ask him something. 

However, before you can make your move you see the bartender gesturing to you. What could he be talking about? Dark and broody stands and begins making his way over to you. 

I guess I’m about to find out. 

“Ma’am, the bartender told me you might be able to help me out,” the man greets you. 

“If yer lookin for a workin’ girl, yer in the wrong place. The cathouse is two buildings down,” you respond before taking a swig of your beer. The man raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh no, it’s not that kinda help,” the man explains, a little flustered. 

You motion for him to join you at the table before leaning forward a little. 

“So what can I do for ya?” 

“We’re lookin for a man,” Dark and Broody begins to explain. 

“So am I,” you smirk, throwing the man off a little,” sorry, continue.” 

“This man to be exact. We’ve heard he’s been hidin out in the mesas around here.” 

Dark and Broody pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket before unfolding it and sliding it across the table for you to see. It’s a wanted poster for Frank ‘Hellcat’ Hardin, con man and leader of a notorious band of outlaws, you’ve seen it before in the sheriff's office. You look at the smug face of the man. Your old boss. But there is no way he could know that, could he? You decide the best course of action is to play dumb. 

“I’ve seen this poster before, but I don’t rightly know how I can help y’all find ‘em,” you comment as you push the poster back towards him. 

“Well the bartender was tellin’ me you know yer way around that particular area of the desert. To make a long story short we need a guide and heard you are the best there is,” Dark and Broody explains. Ah so he doesn’t know. Let’s keep it that way. 

“Say I do help ya find this man, what’s in it for me?” 

“You’ll be paid of course. $1000 total. $500 up front and $500 when we return,” the man announces. 

$1000! You could live comfortably off that for at least the next six months. You could even get out of this town, maybe even travel eastward. 

“I might be able to help. Why ya lookin for this feller anyway?” You ask as you try to figure out the man in front of you. 

“No ma’am. We ain’t bounty hunters. We’re US marshals,” the man states. Damn. That’s even worse. 

You lean back as you assess the situation. On one hand going with them could put you at risk, being a thief and all, but on the other, that is a lot of money and you’d hate to pass it up . Well if all else fails I can just take the $500, shoot them then leave ‘em out in the desert. 

“Alright, ya got yourself a deal,” you announce before holding your hand out to shake on it,” so what should I call ya marshal?” 

“My name is Morgan Hunter, or just Hunter for short and you?” 

You sure as hell aren’t going to give the man your real name, so you think up a false one quickly. 

“You can call me Sadie Hart.” 

“Alright Miss Hart. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal.” 

You nod in reply. 

“Well then Miss Hart. I’ll introduce ya to the others when we get the supplies for the journey. Can you meet us at the general store tomorrow morning, say around nine?” The man asks with a smile. 

“I can. When you boys wantin’ to get started?” You question back. 

“Soon as we can. Tomorrow after we finish the supply run.” 

“Alright. So when do I get my first payment?” You ask, wondering if you might be able to get it now. 

“Tomorrow, when you show up.” 

Damn it, he’s too smart for that trick. 

“Right. I’ll see you boys tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you state as you push back from the table to stand up,” I gotta go get some things together.” 

As you leave the saloon, you see the man with the eye scar staring at you, frown still on his face. What’s his problem? 

You walk back behind the saloon to the alley way there. All of a sudden you are slammed up against the back wall of Kate’s. 

“What the—“ 

You reach for the knife in your pocket but are stopped by the man grabbing your wrist causing you to drop the blade. It lands in the dirt with a soft thud. 

“I know what you are.” 

You look up to see the man with the scar hovering over you. Once again his face seems so familiar. 

“Oh yeah and what’s that?” You sneer as you wrangle your wrist out of his grasp. 

“A thief, a con…. A murder.” 

How in the Sam Hill would he know th—- oh. That’s where you’d seen his face. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you look up at the man. 

“Why the hell are you smiling like that? You know I could just turn you in right now. Tell ‘em who you are.” 

The man is obviously angry with your reaction. You slowly sink to the ground to pick up the blade before standing back up. The entire time keeping eye contact with him. 

“But you ain’t,” you reply with an unconcerned tone as you wipe the dirt off of the knife using his jacket. The man bristles at the action. 

“What makes ya say that?” 

“Cause I know who you really are,” you say as you lean a little closer to emphasize your point,”Crosshair.” 

The man’s face falls when you say that name. You know who he was alright. John Cross AKA Crosshair, regarded as the best sharpshooter in the West Hill gang or any gang for that matter. Wanted in seven US states. He was also thought to have died.

“When did you know it was me?”  

“It didn’t take me too long, but I don’t remember you havin that pretty little scar,” you smile as you gently trail your finger over the mark,” a lot of people think you’re dead. It’d be a shame if someone were to let the US marshal in there know that his friend is a wanted outlaw.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Crosshair hisses. 

“That depends.” 

“On what?” 

“A couple of things. First off you don’t tell ‘em who I really am,” you demand. Crosshair just nods in silent agreement at your request. 

“And secondly, you’ll give me whatever you’re makin’ for this job. And third, you’ll tell me how you got to be in the company of a US marshal.” 

“Anything else?” Crosshair snaps. 

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I think of anything.” The wicked smile still plastered on your face. 

“So do you want me to tell you about the marshal thing now or….?” 

“No. We can save that for another time, after all we will be spendin’ a lot of time together these next couple of days,'' you smirk as you straighten his tie. 

“What makes you think I won’t just shoot you and get this whole thing over with?” Crosshair scoffs, thinking he once again has the upper hand. 

“Oh you won’t because if a US marshal shoots an innocent young woman just trying to get home, that man would be found guilty and hanged for his crimes. And neither of us want that, do we?” 

Crosshair growls and clenches his fist, realizing that you are right. 

“Well goodnight Mr. Cross,” you chirp as you brush past him to continue on to the stables where your horse is. Crosshair just stands there seething for a couple of minutes before he makes his way back into the bar. 

That evening you backup your few possessions in preparation for the journey and hope you will never have to return. After this you hope you can head east or up north, away from all the desert because you don’t like sand, after all.

——————————-

“Good mornin’ miss,” Hunter greets as you walk over to the general store, “thought I should introduce ya to the boys here.” 

The three men stand back alongside wagon loading gear into it. You watch as Muscles load a huge crate into the back without help. 

“The big guy over there is Warren Jones, most people just call him Wrecker.” 

“Ma’am” 

Wrecker tips his hat at you before continuing to load more into the wagon. You watch as Crosshair approaches Hunter with a bag of ammunition. 

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Sadie Hart,” you smile wickedly at Crosshair. His lip curls slightly at your words. 

“This is John Bassett. He is quite the shot,” Hunter says, motioning to Crosshair. 

“It’s a Pleasure,” Crosshair grunts before turning around and walking back to the wagon. 

“And this is Timothy Hughs,” Hunter says as he gestures to the man in the glasses. The man notices the two of you and strolls over to greet you with Wrecker following close behind.

“But you, my dear,” the man says, giving the back of your hand a quick kiss, “ may call me Tech if you prefer.”

Wrecker leans over to you and says, in a not so hushed whisper, “ Nobody rightly knows what it means. We think it’s some German word or somethin’.” 

Tech just rolls his eyes at Wrecker. 

“Is it perhaps short for ‘technology’?” you question with a smile. Tech’s eyes light up at your words. 

“Yes, that is what I was going for with the name. It will be so nice to finally be able to have some intelligent conversations on this trip,” Tech exclaims before proceeding to take inventory of the supplies. 

“So are you all marshals?” you question. 

“No. Wrecker and I are but John here is a gun for hire, he’s been kind enough to offer his services in helping us catch Frank. And Tech is a doctor, he agreed to come along with us for the chance to get to study the climate of New Mexico,” Hunter explains.

"It's definitely not that fact that he's your brother who, and I quote, 'doesn't get out enough'," Crosshair derides, earning a look of contempt from Hunter. Tech elects to ignore the sharpshooters comment. 

"Yes, I am eager to get a chance to observe some of the native flora in the Cactaceae family, along with this region's peculiar venomous lizards," Tech interjects as he hands the inventory list to Hunter, Hunter looks over the list before handing it to you. You make a mental note of anything that is missing before you and Hunter walk into the general store. After making your selection, you walk out of the store with two bags in tow. 

“Now let’s get these loaded and—-“ 

Hunter’s words are interrupted by a bullet flying past, just barely missing your foot. You both turn to see Crosshair standing over to the side holding a rifle. 

“John!” Hunter yells, looking at the man incredulously. 

“Sorry, hand must have slipped,” Crosshair utters as he continues cleaning the gun as if nothing even happened. You know that was just a warning telling you not to get too comfortable. 

You give him a scowl before mounting your horse. Hunter also mounts his horse while Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech pile into the wagon. 

“After you Miss,” Hunter says, tossing you a wad of cash and he motions for you to take the lead. You secure the cash in your saddle bag as you start out of town. 

“You boys ready to go find hell with me?” You grin as you utter the words. Here we go. 

[ihopeineverloseyou19]

It was always about forgetting (it had always been)

Words: 3.4k (something I’ve got done last week, it’s halloween themed)

“We forget and call it healing..we forgive everything but ourselves” ‘blood makes the blade holy, evan knoll’

He remembers it in pieces, little fragments of sharp metal sinking into his abdomen, warm blood trailing down the back of his head from where he had been hit. The first wound that would hours or minutes later bring him into the emergency room he doesn’t really know how much time had passed. Then his memory degrades, it goes black, like if a light swift had switched off, everything lost its meaning, the burning through his body dissipated as he stopped feeling everything around him. 

The soft material in his back makes him confused, so different from his own carpet, a cheap rug he bought when Haley asked him to move out completely. He didn’t deserve luxury, after all, he didn’t even step inside his apartment if he was not going to sleep, and considering how many nights Aaron had spent on his office couch, he had considered selling it.

The smell is the first thing he notices, that foul smell of disinfectant stuck into the air, he momentarily locates himself, he is in the hospital. Aaron opens his eyes and is flabbergasted when he notices Derek sitting in the chair next to his bed. 

“Hey” Derek reached out for his hand, “You gave us quite a scare”. Aaron grunts as he looks around the room hoping to see the familiar face of his son, or Haley’s maroon purse, the one he had got her when they went to their honeymoon in London. A purse that survived more than their marriage ever did. He thinks that it might be her favorite.

 Morgan pauses, Hotch notices it right away, something had shifted with him, the difference was miniscule in Derek's face, but he could tell, he always could. "Jack?"

Derek shifts uncomfortably on the chair, he had supposed that JJ had been the one who had told him, even Prentiss, but he was the first one to see him awake, he would have to deal with it, even if it killed him too, to have Jack away. It was for their safety. “Witness protection is taking care of them” 

Aaron knew that something like this would be their aftermath, he was a danger to them, a danger for Derek, being near someone like he had been with him for the past months was something deadly, a death wish that Foyet would make it true, he had almost succeeded with him, but he let him live, George Foyet had been the one who brought him to the emergency room in the first place. He was already starting to destroy his life, he wanted to kill him slowly, even if he wasn’t the one who would pull the trigger. 

Foyets hands tracing his scars, admiring his work of art, Aaron had seen him smirk, as his freezing hands grabbed him, placing him in his own SUV taking him into the emergency room, yelling for help, as if he was some friend trying to save him. His father never did that. The anger Foyet had was no different from his own father's, but the latter had something more beneath, perhaps it was the hate he always had shown him. Foyet admired him, in a twisted way, he understood his need to stay in his job. 

“You should go” Aaron’s voice cracks a little as he obliges himself to usher Derek away, he wanted to be alone. Morgan shook his head, resting his head against the hospital chair, he knows that his neck is going to be sore the next morning, “You know I can’t do that love”

Aaron nods, he understands him, Derek doesn’t want to leave him alone, he is scared for him, “I’ve got security outside”, he reasons, but he knows his partner, boyfriend? They never addressed what they were, they knew that it was a silly thing to worry over now that he had been at the verge of death, face to face with a serial killer that could have finished him, but chose to let him live.

“They are not as pretty as me” Derek’s joke makes him smile softly, he pats his hands softly, gathering his attention, he had been counting the number of police officer outside his room, he had arrived to four, “I’m going to get me a coffee, don’t you dare to run away from here” 

Police officers come and go, they change their shifts, Prentiss and Reid come inside to make him the cognitive interview, there is nothing that they can take with it, he knows that he could have given them more details, but the two drinks of scotch he had before noticing the cold metal of Foyets gun placed against his skull made his memories disorganized, it had been something that he didn’t see. That they didn’t see in their profile Foyet attacking him was not even thought of. JJ had come in later, with Garcia, both of them bringing him colorful balloons, decorating his plain hospital room. Aaron had declined more invitations, deciding to give the nurses a heads up that he didn’t want any visitors that weren't family.

He didn’t fail to notice Derek’s flabbergasted expression as he happily carried two coffees. A cookie on the trail, he didn’t look up when he was explaining to the nurse their relationship, and failed to hear what he claimed about them. Only noticing his frustrated grunt as he argued with the healthcare worker that ‘Halloween pumpkins cookies could cheer him up’. The nurse declined even passing the cookie along with the cup of watery hospital coffee for him.

The morphine they gave him for the stabs wounds closing surgery was nearly finished, Aaron could feel the burning sensation again, his skin opening, the blade breaking part of the tissue, blood rushing out of him, he called a nurse, he didn’t want to remember, she gave him another dose of pain meds, it would help him sleep. Medication would help the nightmares away, at least for a few more hours. 

A finger poking into his left cheek woke him up, he knew that it wouldn't be a nurse, they were sweeter wherever they had come in when he was asleep, to take his blood, informing him that the doctor would be there ‘soon’. Aaron doubted if he was ever going to see the healthcare worker at all. 

Prentiss was the first person he saw, followed by JJ and Dave who were picking up their belongings, Rossi’s jacket was crumbled in one of the second chairs, Emily had a boot yet to put her feet into, “See, I told you both that he would be out of it”

He blinks once, because he specifically remembers telling the healthcare staff that he wanted to be left alone, no visits permitted, “How?” Aaron furrowed his eyebrows quickly looking up towards his door, they couldn’t be there because of the lack of security, two police officers were chatting animatedly outside his room. 

“Your order was absurd” Emily comments, he sees how JJ shakes her head at Emily, but Aaron knew that if he wanted the truth Prentiss was the correct person for that, he didn’t want to press her more. He wanted to be alone, feel the loneliness he deserved now that his family was out of his reach. Jack would not go to his house, where Derek had more than a part of his closet full of his things, even if he claimed that ‘they were not living together’. His team was making the task difficult. 

“I bet that this wasn’t what you had planned to go as in Halloween” Emily smirks at him. He knows that she is trying to cheer him up. But Prentiss has never been the person that he would choose to comfort him. He laughs when JJ smacks her head, which makes her apologize, “That hurt JJ!”

 His Halloween plans would have ended up with Derek watching scary films and waiting up for kids from his neighborhood to knock on his door, asking for candy. This day was Haley’s turn with Jack. They would be in his couch, eating a bowl of popcorns maybe too big for them but Derek would insist that the measurement of all the bowl filled with greasy popcorn was a necessary thing to have for Halloween even that ‘they could give children popcorn if they didn’t want to be left without any candy’ Derek had camly assured last night that all the candy would be solely for Jack, something Aaron wasn't so keen on.

“What is your costume about?” Rossi wonders, he needed something to fill in the silence, he didn't know what to say without profiling him. Emily was the perfect person for it, she and Reid were the only two people he had known to like this festivity so much. 

“As a nurse” Her smug smile as she turned to JJ, “JJ here choose not to go as Penelope and I, we are still deeply hurt by the way” 

“I told you that I was not going to go trick or treating with my two year old son dressed up as a sexy nurse” JJ huffs annoyed, she had reasoned it too many times, that it infuriated her, Emily draggin the conversation every time she could.

“Who said anything about a sexy nurse?” Emily inquires, laughing, Aaron’s mouth twisted into a smile, he had always liked their friendship, the continued teasing between the two women. Prentiss phone rang, she apologized and went outside to take it. 

“We were about to go” JJ’s voice cuts into the silence. Aaron understood it, they needed to go back to the job, before they went back to their families, waiting for them at home. They still had someone to go home to. Like he had once. Now Derek’s presence is the only thing that makes him want to stand up from his desk late nights, when his mind is too deep with cases, like Foyect, those that were not solved.

Goodbye’s are exchanged when Prentiss comes back, dragging JJ away where she had to pick up the nurses scrubs, she claimed that ‘she didn’t want to appear there alone’. Rossi stayed behind, looking at him. 

“Prentiss was quite adamant into entering inside your room” He admitted chuckling, Aaron nodded, because she always got what she wanted, she was like that, since the first time they meet, “Get some rest, don’t let Morgan baby you too much” He stops in the doorway, what he and Derek had was not a secret but they didn’t even talked about telling them, Dave somewho knew it perhaps he could have seen them kissing when no one was around, “I’ll come by tomorrow morning”

Aaron didn’t ask where Morgan was, he would have gone to his house, he understood it, he was the one at fault for that. What he didn’t expect, more than he expected his team to be there, was to see his brother in flesh and blood asking directions to a nurse that pointed towards his room. Sean had come to see him. 

“What are you doing here?” Sean stayed in his hospital door, leaned in the doorway, something was on his hand, but it was not what was worrying Aaron. 

“That’s a good way to say ‘hello’ Aaron, glad that you still keep your manners” His brother joked as he claimed the seat Derek had been in when he first opened his eyes. He missed Derek now that Sean was the only one who seemed to want to be with him.

“You should have gone with them” Aaron states, Derek had explained him how Haley and Jack were sent away the moment his team found out about Foyet’s assault, he knew now why he did not heard Sean’s name, he previously thought that the morphine dose they gave him was not letting him hear the whole situation correctly

“Sure, running around with my nephew and your ex-wife while you get killed” Sean argued, he was tired of his brother making decisions for him, “We had dad remember, there isn’t someone worse” 

Aaron gulps, reaching out for the glass of water JJ got him when she noticed his constant coughs, after checking in with a nurse, “Sean, this is for your own good, I can call someone” 

“I don’t need anyone protecting me” Sean acknowledges, he was gripping the card, his mother would not forgive him if she found out, “You did it with Dad, now it’s my turn to kill that bastard”

“What is there?” Aaron pointed to the nearly perfect white envelope. He wanted to believe that it was for him, but his childhood had not made it very easy knowing when people were going to give him something just because they wanted to. His previous gifts were soaked with bloody hands and broken bones, little things that he would be happy to receive because that meant one thing: he was forgiven. He could forget. 

“It’s from mom” Sean said, giving him the card with a smile that could not reach him at all, “She called me as soon as she saw the news. She is worried about you”. 

Sean reached into his pocket, three pieces of candy, Aaron’s favorite ones, “I got you this on the way here, a couple of kids gave it to me-”

“Did you steal from a kid?” Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, his brother had done so many things that he disapproved of, that he was not totally convinced of his actions. 

“I didn’t” Sean admits, gives his brother the candy and the card his mother told him to give Aaron, he didn’t know what more to do, with him, what more to say. 

‘Get well soon’, it was more than he could ask, it had to be the first time he had noticed her caring that much in his forty years of life, he guessed that she could start now. Sean spoke again, “You know how she gets around this place”. Hospitals had always scared her, even when it had been a few years since their father was dead, since her body was no longer marked on the outside, her flex healing from years of purplish skin.

The doctor appears in his room, checking in first is he is who she is supposed to have next on her list of patients, apologizing for the long wait he had. “Mr. Hotchner, your lab results came in surprisingly well considering the amount of blood you lost, you have two broken ribs that will take some weeks to regenerate, the nurse will give you the prescription when you get out of here tomorrow morning” 

“Is there something wrong?” Sean inquired, he didn’t like when people abruptly paused without a reason, looking towards his brother he saw that Aaron seemed completely fine, he wondered how many hospital stays there had been without his knowledge. How many nights did his brother have to sleep alone? 

The doctor was checking something more, showing them an x-ray that they don’t entirely understand, “You do have a couple of old fractures that weren’t treated correctly, I just wanted to check that there was nothing I should be worried about, now, with your job, you must get worse injuries” 

“There isn’t” He states and watches the doctor go, Sean’s expression was what was worrying him the most, “Anything you want to tell me?”

“I don’t get it” He says pacing around the room, “I don’t get why you protect him after all these years Aaron, he made your life miserable, he nearly killed you that Christmas!”

“He can't hurt me anymore Sean, he is gone and telling the truth is not going to fix me” He admits, “It’s not something I want to talk about, not with you”

“Then with who?” Sean takes a seat next to him, “Did you even talk with anyone about him?” His brother knows the answer, it was something that was hard to talk about, when he understood what happened to himself it was the last thing he wanted to remember, “Does Derek know?”

“Yes” Derek had seen his scars once when they shared a room, the first time he didn’t even ask him about it, but by the fifth night he came clean, about his family and Derek told him his own childhood, it made him feel less alone. “Can we change the subject?”

“No we can't, you can’t run from-” Sean is stopped by Derek entering the room, a bag on his shoulders and what looked to be a trail of fresh baked cookies, he smiled at him. Aaron was glad that he wasn’t alone with his brother anymore. "You have to forgive yourself"

“Sean!” Derek engulfs him into a hug, carefully setting the cookies in the chair first, “Long time without seeing you, are you going to stay for a little?”

“I was just passing by” Sean strugs looking at his brother, “I've to actually go back to work, night shift at the bar, take care of the old man here for me”

“Will do, have a great night” Aaron watched as his brother walked away, Derek took his seat back and placed a kiss on his lips, “Care to explain to me what was that about?”

“Maybe another time, I want to taste those cookies, can I have one?” Morgan laughs taking the trail towards his boyfriend, “They are still warm, figured that homemade cookies were a better choice for you right now, Happy Halloween” 

Aaron tastes the first cookie, the flavor reminds him of the cookies Jack always chooses from the supermarkets, those with the perfect amount of butter and chocolate. Jack was supposed to show him a picture of his superhero costume. "I miss him"

"I do too" Derek had something, he was quite cheerful and Halloween was not even his favorite holiday, "I have something for you, take it as super secret information" 

"What do you want to show me" Aaron inquired as he take Derek's phone, he handed it to him, a single picture in the screen, a Halloween costume, two identical blonde heads behind masks, he can not completely see them beneath the scattered clothes, but he knew who they were, Aaron could feel the tears in his eyes, "How?"

"I have moved some strings around" Derek smiles at him, he zooms over the picture, "He has blood over his left side of his face?". What Aaron does not mention is that Jack and Haley look happy, that their relationship would c hangeeven if he gets to see them again.

"It's fake, doesn't he look cute?" He adds placing a kiss to his check, "Scoot over, I'm not going to let you sleep there alone" 

"He does, Jack has always been Haley’s copy" Aaron admits, looking over at Derek, as he was taking off his shoes, he stopped and placed a hand on the side of his face, "Physically, he might be, but he is a Hotchner after all, he'll grow out of it"

"Good to know that you think I'm not attractive" Aaron teases him, he could live like this, Derek has always kept him grounded, safe from whatever thing was creeping out for him. "You look better healthier, but I'll stay with you even if you are old and grumpy" 

"You know that last Halloween he wanted to go like me?" Aaron tells Morgan, who lays next to him, accommodating himself next to his boyfriend, "You are still his hero, that is not going to change"

Aaron wants to hold onto that, to hold to what Derek tells him, that he will still be important to Jack even if he is not part of his life, even if he has destroyed Haley’s and Jack’s freedom because of his job. That he failed to protect what he should have focused more of his time on, "I wouldn't want to have my position taken by you"

Derek places a kiss to his hair, it calms him, he wanted to believe that things were going to be okay, he didn't want his son to forget about him the way he forgot his father. They were not the same. Jack had to know he cared.

"Can we do something?" Derek grunts, he was about to fall sleep, catching on the hours he kept himself awake, "Jack's birthday is coming up, we could send him, a simple gift, for him to remember us by"

"He isn't going to forget us" Derek stated eyes closed, shutting off the room lights, with the hallway door closed, the bright lights weren't too disturbing, "We can think of that tomorrow, now sleep, we are going to be woken up too many times tonight, we have time"

Aaron looked around the dark room, very little things illuminating it, he looked at Derek and got his attention tapping into his chest, "Do you mind opening the door a little bit?"

Sure, but when I come back, you better sleep" Derek teased as he quickly moved to open the door, he told something to the police officers outside before engulfing his boyfriend, "Goodnight"

[hercleverboy]

yours

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ based off of the prompt “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 2.9k

“If someone makes you feel, let them.” — Reyna Biddy

Spencer could never very well doubt just how much she loved him. 

She told him every day, not always with words but he could hear them clearly in how she touched him. Feather-light fingertips tracing along his delicate skin, perfectly pursed lips pressing affectionate kisses to the scars littered on his arms and chest. 

He heard the words in how she cared for him, in a way that he’d never felt cared for before. Her hand would squeeze his three times when she could see him getting anxious in a social setting, three small squeezes that screamed the words ‘I love you’, ‘you’re safe here,’ ‘I’ve got you.’

But despite everything, nothing seemed to be a match for Spencer’s own insecurities. Insecurities he thought he’d buried deep down, hidden away for so long he could almost kid himself into thinking they’d simply disappeared. 

Combine those insecurities with the green-eyed monster that had attached itself to Spencer’s back, and you’re left with an ugly amalgamation of self-hatred and jealousy. As if he hadn’t felt insecure enough over the prior weeks, it didn’t help that he had to watch some guy flirt with his girlfriend once the night ended. 

The BAU had been dragged along to a charity event that the Bureau was holding. The whole idea was to keep up the FBI’s good reputation, and an appearance from their elite profiler team would certainly look good for them. So, with the news that they were each allowed a plus one, Spencer had asked his girlfriend to accompany him. 

Y/N had been ecstatic when he’d asked, grinning about how this was the perfect excuse for her to shop for a suitable dress in the adorable boutique that had opened in town. Despite how he’d been feeling, he found himself smiling without force. No matter how he felt, she always managed to make him feel better. They’d been together for just over a year and he was yet to grow tired of her optimistic outlook on life. She really was a ray of light that shone through the darkness of his life, a shadow that came so close to swallowing him whole before she held him tight and pulled him out.

As the days before the event dragged on, Spencer found the intrusive and self-conscious thoughts were only growing, his brain trying so desperately to convince him that Y/N was merely with him out of convenience. She was simply tolerating him until she could find someone better. The rational part of him argued that the was definitely not the case, but when has anyone ever been rational when it comes to love? 

These insecurities were unfortunately not new for Spencer. They’d been there since the beginning of the relationship, and he lived in fear that his relationship would fall victim to the BAU’s curse. With the exception of JJ and Will, all of the BAU’s relationships eventually crumbled under the pressure of the job that never stopped, never slowed down. There were always forgotten anniversaries and missed birthdays, late nights and early mornings and interruptions at times when Spencer wanted nothing more than a moment alone with the woman he loved. 

It was exhausting, really. But they made it work.

And Spencer cherished every moment they had together as though it was their last. As though she would wake up the next morning and decide she didn’t want him anymore, that the job was too much, that she couldn’t keep watching him leave without knowing if he’d ever come home. 

Y/N had noticed the slight shift in how Spencer acted around her. She was no expert profiler, but Spencer wasn’t exactly as subtle as he thought he was with his actions. When she asked about a case, he wouldn’t confide in her like he used to. He was never impolite, ever the gentleman, but simply shut her down with a kind smile before moving on to talk about a different topic. 

He still held her close to his chest at night, arms wrapped around her. Though she noticed how he’d tightened his once loose grip on her, caging her in his arms. It made her heart ache a little when she felt him hold onto her as though he was afraid to lose her, as though she was going to leave. Although she wanted to, Y/N didn’t comment on this change in behaviour. She allowed him to hold her as tightly as he pleased, hoping it brought him any sense of comfort or reassurance he might need. 

One night when she was deep in sleep, her head on his chest, Spencer stared up at the ceiling with his hands holding her as close to him as she could get. He listened to the sound of her gentle breaths that somewhat soothed him, until the invasive thoughts started up again. He blinked away the tears that burned his eyes as he thought about how she deserved so much better than what he could give her, how he was selfish. Against his better judgement, he refused to push her away. If the dreadful day came when she decided she didn’t want him anymore, he would let her go. But until then, he was desperate to cling to her for as long as he could. 

He didn’t register the tears slipping from his eyes until the girl on his chest shuffled. He was quick to wipe his tears, watching as her own eyes fluttered open, staring up at him in confusion.

“Baby? What’re you doing awake, what time is it?” She groaned quietly, her eyes landing on the clock across the room. 3:47am.

When Spencer didn’t answer, she blinked to adjust to the darkness of the room, shifting to sit up slightly so she could meet his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

He gave a small smile at that. She was evidently still so tired but was forcing herself to stay awake so she could check he was okay.

Her compassion was one of the many reasons he loved her so. 

He shook his head. “I’m okay, I promise.”

She titled her head the side, her eyes searching his for any hints of how he was really feeling. She came up empty. She wasn’t a profiler, after all.

She reached her hand up to cup his cheek, and he gave the most adorable little grin, turning his head to place a kiss on her palm.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She whispered, the sincerity in her tone making the tears in his eyes well quicker.

He just nodded with a sniff, unsure how to respond. Of course, he knew he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him. But his insecurities felt like a bother, and he wouldn’t want to burden her with such petty concerns. 

Y/N was still unsure, though she accepted his answer, giving him a small smile before returning to her sleeping position, her head on his chest. She had to have faith that he would confide in her when he was ready. 

 This time, he had one arm wrapped around her, his other hand intertwined his fingers with hers, bringing him even more comfort. He pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering a small ‘I love you’ against her skin before finally allowing sleep to take him.

The event was on a Saturday evening, and Spencer had found himself throughout the week secretly wishing they’d be called away for a case; but no such call came. Funny, he thought, the one time it’d be great to get whisked away for work, serial killers seem to have taken the week off? He wasn’t really looking forward to it at all but knowing he’d have Y/N on his arm all night made him feel slightly more at ease. 

When the clock hit 6pm Spencer called out to her, his voice bouncing off the walls of the apartment. 

“You ready?”

Spencer had familiarised himself with Y/N’s outstanding beauty over the years, even before they were together and he’d found himself pining over her, watching how she moved and how she acted and falling in love just a little more each day. He recalled the words of poet Robert Burns, ‘But to see her was to love her, Love but her and love forever.’ He noted how extremely fitting they seemed. When she stepped out of the bedroom, shoving her belongings into her clutch, and flashing a grin at her boyfriend, he was reminded how she was just so effortlessly enamouring that even his eidetic memory wasn’t enough to perfectly capture her allure. 

What a privilege it was to love her. 

“You look-” His words caught in his throat, trying to find ones that could even begin to convey his thoughts. There simply weren’t words. He knew a thousand different ones, but none that were adequate enough to describe the woman before him. 

“You are so beautiful.”

Is what he settled for, and it still seemed to fall short but when her lips turned up in a bright grin, he knew she was grateful for the compliment.

“Thank you. Are you ready to go?” She asked and he swallowed nervously before he nodded, offering him her arm as they walked out of the apartment.

*

He watched from their seats as Y/N stood by the drinks table with JJ and Garcia, deep in conversation. She’d been dragged from his side to have what Garcia called a ‘girly catch-up’, and hence he was left at the teams designated table with Morgan. Morgan was talking about a topic Spencer hadn’t much interest in, and though he had initially attempted to listen, that had been thrown out the window as his gaze drifted to Y/N once again. 

“Kid? Hey, you listening?” Morgan asked, waving a hand in front of Spencer’s face to get his attention. 

Spencer’s gaze snapped away from Y/N, focusing back on his friend. “Sorry, what was that?” 

Morgan shook his head with a laugh, nodding his head in Y/N’s direction. “I’ll bet you’d much rather be at home with your lady, huh?” 

Spencer followed Morgan’s line of sight, finding Y/N across the room again. He watched in silent awe as she threw her head back in laughter at something Garcia said before taking a sip of her wine. 

“Yeah. It’s just- we’re away so much with work. I would’ve liked to have taken her out this evening or something. I don’t ever want her to forget how much she means to me.” Spencer blurted out in a moment of honesty, something that Morgan had always managed to get out of him. 

Morgan nodded in understanding. “You know you never have to worry about that with Y/N. You, my friend, are the definition of whipped.” He grinned, reaching out and placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. 

Spencer frowned at the comment. “Whipped?” 

“It just means you’d do anything for her. Anything she wanted, anything she asked for. Anything to make her happy.” Morgan explained. 

Spencer nodded in understanding, put his frown remained. “Is that a bad thing?”

Morgan smiled, shaking his head. “Not at all. It’s nice seeing you so happy. She’s good for you, you know.”

Spencer glanced back over to her and caught her eye. She was mid conversation, but still flashed a smile to him.

He gave a small grin back before responding to Morgan. “Yeah, she is. Too good.”

*

As the evening came to a close, Spencer watched as Y/N said goodbye to everyone. He didn’t miss how one of the guys from Sex Crimes placed his hands far too low on her waist as she hugged him goodbye. How this guy seemed reluctant to let Y/N go even after she’d pulled back from the friendly hug. It made Spencer’s heart ache, watching this guy’s eyes glisten as Y/N spoke, looking at her in a way that was reserved for only Spencer. 

That green-eyed monster reattached itself to Spencer, his brain flooding with the self-depreciative thoughts that had plagued his mind for weeks at that point. It was getting too much for him to handle. 

He’d never been more relieved than when the taxi dropped them off outside their apartment, their home. 

Y/N had noticed her boyfriend’s silence on the journey home. It was even more confusing because he still held her hand tightly in his own, intertwined and resting on the middle seat between them. Spencer faced looking out the window, not paying much attention to Y/N, and she’d think he was ignoring her if it wasn’t for his vice-like grip on her hand. 

She figured he’d speak when they were back in their home, an environment he was the most comfortable in. Though he remained silent. When they stepped over the threshold of the apartment, he raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a faint kiss on the back of hers, before dropping her hand and quietly heading for the bedroom. Y/N stood in the hallway, hand dangling by her side as she pondered over what could be wrong. 

She waited to approach the topic until they were getting ready to sleep. Y/N had just finished washing her face and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, flicking off the light and making her way back to the bed. Spencer, who had still not said a word, was staring at a page of his book. She could tell he wasn’t reading, as he hadn’t flipped a page in a few minutes. She climbed in next to him, sitting up against the headboard as she looked over at him. 

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes trained on the hundreds of words on the pages before him. 

She cleared her throat, her voice small. “You gotta talk to me. I need you to tell me what’s got you so worried. If it’s something I did then-“

“Why are you with me?”

Y/N blinked in shock. Those were the first words he’d spoken to her in hours, and she had no idea where they’d come from or how to respond to them. 

“What?”

“Why did you choose me? I mean, y-you could’ve had anyone you wanted, and you chose me?” His tone of voice was pained, and Y/N could tell that these words were the sum of self-doubt and malicious thoughts. 

Her eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand.”

“I just don’t get why you’d want me. I’m weird, I don’t always pick up on social cues and I don’t understand pop culture references and there are just so many other people you would probably be better suited to and- and you want me?” His eyes flicked up to meet hers and only then did she see the tears that brimmed in them. 

Y/N took a moment to mull over the words, realising that what she chose to respond with would be incredibly important to Spencer. She gave a small sigh and smiled slightly, reaching over to grasp his hands in hers. 

“You always go out of your way to bring me a blueberry muffin in the morning, even though my favourite bakery is the next town over. You give up your favourite cardigans because you know how much I love to wear them. You watched the whole of Stranger Things just because I spoke about it so much and you wanted to be able to talk about it with me. Despite how much you hate the logical inconsistencies.” She chuckled and he gave her a smile too, looking down at their joined hands. “When I go on and on about how the eleventh Doctor is my favourite you agree despite how I know for a fact that your favourite is the fifth. You always know when I’m upset without me even having to say a word. You dance with me on rainy days and read to me when I can’t sleep, and I am so in love with you.” She whimpered out the last bit with a smile, and his head shot up, eyes meeting hers. “You do not ever need to worry about whether you or not you ‘deserve’ me.” 

He nodded, but she could see he was still not entirely convinced.

So, she tried one more thing, something she was sure would get through to him. 

“Who was it that said, ‘We accept the love we think we deserve.’?” She asked, and he knew she knew the answer but still gave her the response she was looking for. 

“Stephen Chbosky.” 

She hummed in agreement, releasing one of his hands so she could cup his cheek, wiping away trembling tears with her thumb. “You deserve everything good in life, Spencer. You deserve to be loved.” 

He nodded again, having been convinced. 

For the first time in weeks, Spencer felt the weight of that green-eyed monster leave his shoulders. His constantly overworking brain seemed to grant him a single moment of clarity, enough for him to force away the thoughts that had hounded him for too long. He knew they may never really go away, but Y/N’s affections were certainly enough to quieten them down. 

“Okay.” He murmured, still smiling as his cheeks flushed.

She chuckled quietly, using her other hand to brush back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes in a tender move. “You’re my everything, the love of my life. Please don’t forget that.”

Spencer nodded, leaning forward. His arms enveloped around her, pulling her close to his chest in a tight hug.

“I’m yours.” He whispered. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

She smiled and spoke the words as though they were the simplest thing in the world. 

“I’ll always want you.”

taglist: - @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor

[erin-bo-berin]

Prove It

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request of Spencer getting mad at being teased and being motivated enough to prove he’s not vanilla. This took forever from the time it was first requested for me to write and post it, so I’m so sorry to the anon who requested it. It feels like it’s been FOREVER since I’ve posted a smut too, so enjoy some smutty Spencer to start your week. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut, rough sex)

Word Count: 4,246

“I will never understand it.”

“Understand what?” you asked.

You sat down in one of the chairs in the jet, across from coworker and teammate Derek Morgan.

You and the team you were a part of, the Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU for short—of the FBI had just solved another case and were on the way home.

You’d seen plenty of sickos before, so another one didn’t seem to surprise you. Of course, it was disgusting and aggravating, horrifying and awful, but you never pretended to understand unsubs in the first place. So you were quite curious about what Morgan was thinking out loud about.

Spencer Reid plopped down in the chair next to you with his cup of coffee.

How the man managed to live off coffee and actually go to sleep was a mystery to you. At this point it would benefit him to just have his coffee injected into him through IV, that’s how much he consumed.

“This S&M stuff,” Morgan waved his hand, “It’s insane.”

The case they’d just recently closed had involved a guy who had taken his violent sexual desires a step too far and found himself turned on by actually murdering women. Whether it was by choking or gagging, somehow he’d discovered he got a sexual release from killing his female partners.

What started as auto erotic asphyxiation—something that was incredibly dangerous to begin with—had turned to something more sinister and even more deadly.

“When done right, it’s actually not as bad as some of these unsubs make us believe,” Spencer said.

“I’m sure you know all about it, don’t you kid?” Morgan replied, sarcastically.

“Anyway,” he continued, before Spencer could cut in again, “I’m not judging people who do it, it just seems like even when it’s done right, it’s too dangerous to even be exciting. It’d be a mood killer for me.”

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t bring out your dominant side every once and awhile,” you smirked, teasing him.

“Hey, I’m all for some good rough sex. I’m not as vanilla as pretty boy here, but I’m not about to emotionally and physically scar Savannah.”

“Hey! What’s that’s supposed to mean?!” Spencer protested.

Savannah was Morgan’s wife, now of three years. They had a son together, Hank. Being a parent according to Morgan, you didn’t get much “mommy and daddy time”, but even then, it didn’t stop him from shamelessly sharing details about his sex life. You got used to it; it was just a Derek thing anyway.

“Sure, I’ve done some tying up and spanking, but that’s mild compared to some practices in BDSM. I once asked Reid about it and unfortunately learned more than I ever wanted to about it.”

“Excuse me,” Spencer broke in, “What’s the vanilla remark supposed to mean?”

Both yours and Derek’s heads turned to see Spencer’s brows furrowed.

“Kid, vanilla ice cream is spicier than you,” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on, that’s not true!” Spencer retorted, exasperated.

“I’m sorry Reid, I just can’t imagine you being kinky. I mean do you just spout facts during sex or what?”

You held back a snicker although you heard the rest of the team chuckling.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer flushed.

You averted your eyes from his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for a little while, the team none the wiser to your relationship. You couldn’t quite defend him without giving it away.

It wasn’t really a secret per se, you just mutually decided not to say anything until it became more serious. You had only slept together a few times anyway, so it wasn’t like you were familiar with his sexual proclivities.

“You’re more vanilla than Vanilla Ice,” Morgan joked, making you choke on your sip of water, laughing.

“How would you know anyway?” Spencer crossed his arms, his face now a deep red, “I could be kinkier than you know.”

“Dude, when’s the last time you even slept with a girl?” Morgan asked with a raised brow, “Wasn’t it that bartender Austin from a case 11 years ago?”

Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. He wasn’t going to say anything and you knew it because it would give away yours and his personal business.

“That’s what I thought. Vanilla,” Derek laughed, standing to refill his tumbler with more whiskey, “Don’t worry Pretty Ricky, not everyone has to be an animal in bed.”

He patted Spencer’s shoulder as he walked by to head to the back of the jet—and the whiskey decanter.

You could tell by Spencer’s pursed lips that he was annoyed.

You promised yourself that when the jet landed, you would apologize.

•

You had been wrong.

Spencer wasn’t annoyed.

He was pissed.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” you repeated for the hundredth time.

Once the jet had landed, everyone went their separate ways, so no one was the wiser when you’d climbed into Spencer’s car. You had spent more time at his place lately than your own, so you were heading back to his apartment with him.

The entire drive was filled with tense silence. His jaw stayed clenched all the way home.

“Spence, please talk to me. If I hurt your feelings, that wasn’t my intention.”

You followed him into his apartment, watching as he sat down his go bag and satchel by the door. You sat your own things near his, as well.

You didn’t miss how tense he was, indicating his anger.

“Spence-” you began, but got cut off by his sharp tone.

“Go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed,” he snapped.

You were taken back, unsure if you’d heard him right the first time.

“What?”

“I said, go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself. And don’t make me do it myself cause you will regret it.”

You stood frozen in place for a second, your mouth opening and closing. By the look on his face, you could tell he was serious. 

“O-Okay,” you stammered, walking backwards to the bedroom.

You had no idea what he had planned, but deep down, you could feel the tingle of excitement beginning to work its way to the surface. Maybe some rough sex would ease his anger.

You were out of your shirt and pants before you reached the bed. You pulled off your bra, letting it fall from your fingertips and then rid your underwear before climbing onto the bed like you were asked to do, laying back.

It was at least a good ten minutes before Spencer came into the room, with something in each hand.

“What’s that?”

He didn’t answer you. 

He sat what appeared to be a glass of ice on the nightstand and grabbed one of your wrists, starting to tie it to the bedpost with what you now realized was one of his ties.

You watched as he tied the opposite one before you spoke.

“Spence, I-”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I say to speak,” he growled, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you.

His face lingered above yours, his lips not far from your own. He didn’t kiss you yet, but you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face, the anticipation of his lips finally being on yours making you anxious. 

His nose nudged yours gently as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lidded, although they occasionally flicked up toward yours. He knew how much you wanted him to kiss you and he was using that to his advantage.

Finally, it came, feather light. It was like kissing a cloud, the faint touch not nearly enough to satiate your needs. You tried to lean upwards to meet his lips again, taking what you wanted, what you needed, but he pulled out of your reach, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Oh so this is how it’s going to be?” you mock pouted.

“My bed, my rules,” he answered.

The anticipation of this kiss made your heart race and your breath hitch. If he was willing enough to deprive you this easily and this early on, what else was he capable of?

When his lips finally met yours, it was in a surprisingly gentle manner, considering you were currently tied to his bedposts. His mouth glided along with yours, the intensity picking up rather quickly. 

His hunger and anger seemed to meld into one as he kissed you roughly, pulling back enough to capture your lower lip between his, his teeth softly scraping over it. A small, satisfied sigh emitted from you, against his lips.

Your mouth parted as you continued to enjoy the feel of his mouth on yours, his tongue being both graceful and teasing at the same time, it moving swiftly over your bottom lip.

You were already struggling with your restraints, wanting to touch him as he kissed you. Normally, your touch was everywhere on him when you kissed. From his face to his shoulders and chest and in his curls, you ravished being able to touch him. But you didn’t have that luxury right now and it was absolutely killing you.

He pulled away, lips hovering over your jaw as he kissed it just slightly, ready to move on to other areas.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have more than enough proof that I’m anything but vanilla,” he whispered huskily, placing a kiss against your throat.

Your thighs clamped inadvertently as you suddenly became even more turned on than you had been previously. He reached over you, towards the ice, grabbing a cube.

You watched him intently, gasping sharply when the shock of cold touched your skin, just along your collarbone.

“You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?” he asked, sliding the ice cube along your chest.

You nodded eagerly, biting down on your lip as he moved the ice over the swell of your breast and across your nipple making them tighten, both from the cold and your arousal. His lips followed the trail of ice over your breasts, tongue moving out to encircle your nipple and flick it. He repeated it on the opposite side and you gave a moan of approval at his explorations.

A trail of water was left behind on your skin as he continued on, gliding the ice down the middle of your chest towards your stomach. You felt goosebumps prickle your skin at the continuous icy cold sensation.

“You’re so hot, you’re making the ice melt quickly,” he purred.

His touch left you as he reached back towards the nightstand to grab another cube. Apparently he’d been right, as the first cube had melted completely. 

Once the coolness touched your skin again you found yourself gasping. As tantalizing as this teasing was, you were extremely turned on by it. You could feel the heat within your body, your core already starting to pulsate with arousal.

“I really hate that I can’t touch you,” you groaned, tugging on your restraints.

“But that’s what makes it fun, sweetheart,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your stomach.

The ice cube moved down one of your sides, over your hip, where he gave it a playful squeeze. Then the cold hit the top of your thighs, his other hand gliding to the top of the opposite one.

You were desperate at the point and automatically widened the space between your legs. If anything, you were going to let him get a good view of just how wet you were.

His eyes flickered downwards then back up towards your face, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You squirmed, anxious for him to do anything.

“Problem, love?” he cooed.

You glared, arching your hips in an attempt to get some sort of contact.

He chuckled, spreading your legs further. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the ice moving over your outer lips definitely wasn’t it.

You hissed at the sudden cold, but you didn’t hate it at all. Not like you hated these fucking restraints. You cursed when he pressed it against your clit.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moaned.

He hummed, looking up at you through his lashes. You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillow, tugging at your bound wrists again.

You wanted to push his head or his hands to your throbbing core; maybe both at this rate.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered.

“Okay,” he relented, sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been a good girl so far.”

He reached over you, pulling the knotted ties loose from around your wrists. It was like sweet freedom to you. 

Before you could even touch him, he’d taken a hold of you, rolling you over so you were straddling his stomach.

“Ooh, I’m in control? I like,” you grinned, leaning down to kiss him.

You didn’t quite make it to his lips.

“Think again.”

He grabbed the back of your thighs, roughly pulling you up to sit on his face. This, you hadn’t suspected.

“Oh god,” you moaned lowly as his tongue slid up your outer lips.

His hands held your thighs tightly and he wasted no time diving right in. His tongue flicked your clit and you had to grab a hold of the headboard just to make sure you didn’t collapse on top of him.

Of course oral sex had been a part of your sex life with Spencer prior to this, but never in this way. He was usually more timid about it. But right now, he went for it in a very enthusiastic manner.

“Fuck, Spence.”

You groaned, his lips circling your clit to suck on it briefly before releasing it with a tiny pop of his mouth. His tongue flicked over it again, alternating in speed and pressure.

You had thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt a finger slide into you. You could’ve sworn you almost lost your mind at that point. His finger slowly pumped in and out of you, matching the now slower speed of his tongue that seemed to be licking everywhere but your clit.

“Dammit Spencer,” you groaned, slightly grinding against his mouth for some friction.

You jerked a bit, a surprised squeal coming from you when his hand came down on your ass. It wasn’t a bad reaction though, it had just excited you even more.

“Did you just spank me?!” you asked incredulously.

He hummed, sending a delicious vibration against your clit as his hand came down again on your ass making you moan loudly.

You had no idea there was this side to him.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes baby,” you whined, your hips moving back and forth over his face as his fingers and tongue drove you crazy.

The faster his fingers went, the harder his tongue moved. You were gripping the headboard so tight, your knuckles were white.

“Ah!” you squealed, at an additional spank.

It wasn’t hard enough to be too rough and painful, just hard enough to be incredibly sexy, sending a charge directly to your currently, extremely stimulated clit.

It was also incredibly appealing to you to feel the slight scratch of his facial hair against your nether regions as he ravished you. 

You could feel your entire body tensing, preparing for the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy. Apparently, Spencer could too.

He worked you until you came shattering apart above him. His name mixed with a loud moan and curses sprinkled in.

When the high had ebbed a bit, he moved you back to sit on his stomach, a wolfish grin on his face. You still felt a bit dazed since there was still a bit of buzz left tingling within you.

You noticed then that your boyfriend was way overdressed.

“It’s time to do something about these,” you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

He allowed you to pull his shirt off, but his hand grabbed yours just as they reached for his belt.

“I am going to fuck you bent over my desk and only bent over my desk.”

He gave you no time to react as he’d already lifted you in his arms and stood from the bed, heading to the living room.

“Spencer, what? I-”

The words died on your lips as he entered the living room and his desk came into view. Normally, it was stacked neatly with his books, files, paperwork that he needed to complete, pens, pencils, a couple of coffee mugs, the works. But now, it was completely clear, showing off its deep, dark brown, glossy desktop.

Heat pooled in your stomach when you realized he’d planned ahead for this. He’d imagined bending you over his desk, having his way with you. You swallowed back a moan, already eager for him to be buried inside of you.

Instead of immediately pushing you over the edge of the desk, he sat you on top of it, facing him.

You bit your lip, quite literally looking up through your lashes at him. His tongue moved over his lips, his hunger for you apparent as his hands traced every inch of you.

From your breasts, down your stomach, to your thighs and around towards your bottom, squeezing it gently, his hands traveled every part of you before capturing your mouth in another kiss.

It was no innocent kiss. It was fiery and filled with the mutual hunger for one another. He was still kissing you when he slid you off the desktop, your feet touching the floor once again.

He turned you and had you bent over the edge of his desk in a matter of seconds. You heard the clink and whir of his belt as he unbuckled it, the sound alone sending a charge through you.

You shifted impatiently, much to his notice. He smirked, running a hand between your legs teasingly, as he pushed his suit pants out of the way with the other hand.

He wasted no time on gentle and loving movements. He entered you roughly and quite honestly, when you weren’t expecting it.

You whimpered. The feeling of your most intimate parts stretching just enough to accommodate him was one of the best feelings in the world to you. 

By this point, you’d lost the ability to be quiet. He’d already brought you to one earth shattering orgasm and that was after the tantalizing ice foreplay that had turned you on beyond belief.

Your constant moans filled the room as your hands gripped the edges of the desk.

Your hips were tight in his grip as he thrust into you fast and hard, your own body bouncing off his in the opposite direction. He, for one, was much louder than he normally was. Grunts, groans, mumbled curses and pants came from behind you as he had his way with you.

His lips hovered over your neck, his appraising moans ringing in your ears.

“Fucking shit, fuuuck, Y/N,” he groaned before attaching his lips to your neck.

He sucked harshly, hard enough to know that hickies would be present for the next few days.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the slight sting of his teeth bearing down into your shoulder, but coupled with your current pleasure, it was actually hot.

Your back arched as he focused on what he’d learned—quite quickly, you might add—was one of your absolute sweet spots, his hips aiding in thrusting deeply within you.

Spencer’s hand snaked up your spine, tangling in your hair, his fingers wrapping around a few strands. It surprised you when he pulled on it, firm enough to pull your head to the side. You moaned at the sensation, ready for him to do anything at this point. You were so turned on, you were a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

“Still. Think. I’m. Vanilla?”

Each of his words were clipped, growled into your ear and enunciated with a forceful thrust.

“No,” you rasped, quickly losing control of yourself and becoming delirious from the ecstasy he was providing you with.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he grunted, halting his movements completely.

You about sobbed in agony, wanting the feel of him back. Your hips automatically moved backwards to get some more friction, but Spencer held them still.

“Tell me,” he groaned, the slight strain in his voice indicating he was struggling with keeping still, himself.

You cursed, craving the delicious sensation of him deep within you again especially since you were on the brink of shattering like broken glass.

“Who’s not vanilla?” Spencer taunted.

He began moving once again, his motions slow and teasing. He slid in and out of you with long, lackadaisical thrusts although he made sure each move was deep enough so you could feel every inch of him within you. 

“Dammit Spencer, please,” you mewled, encircling your hips in small movements.

His low groan that came from above you was telling enough that he was trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Answer me,” he murmured huskily, his lips traveling up your back, hands reaching forward to massage your breasts in his hands.

“Answer me,” he repeated, “And I’ll fuck you like you deserved to be fucked.”

Your mouth dropped, a haggard moan escaping your throat. You weren’t used to hearing Spencer dirty talk and you’d realized that you instantly loved it.

His facial hair scratched your cheek as his mouth moved in the vicinity of it, sucking on your jaw.

“Be a good girl and answer me and I promise I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars, baby girl,” his low whisper came, one hand gliding between your legs, finger ghosting your clit.

“I’ll make you cum harder than you even imagined. Until you’re dripping all over my cock. I wanna fuck my girl, good, Spencer purred.

“Oh my god,” you cried, the overstimulation of his words and his touch finally getting you to lose absolute control of your conscious mind.

“You, Spencer, you,” you moaned.

The only sounds that filled his living room were the mixed moans and the sound of your bodies moving together as he fulfilled his promise and resumed his earlier pace though more erratic this time.

Your inadvertent clenching around him with every move was making him lose control quickly. 

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you whined, clenching the edges of the desk so hard you knew your hands would be sore later.

In the back of your mind, a small part of you registered that you most likely sounded akin to a pornstar right now, though you didn’t spend much time on the thought. The fire in your veins was igniting the growing pressure in your stomach, like a furnace growing too hot.

It took less than a few moves before you went tumbling over the cliff of ecstasy. Your eyes screwed shut, your vision going completely white behind your closed eyes as you managed out a satisfied, bliss filled cry.

It was like lightning had struck your body except the electricity had come straight from the pit of your belly. Spencer had been right, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

It was the body shaking, breathtaking, best kind of high ever, type of intense.

His own had soon followed as you’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of your own delirium. His hands gripped your sides and his body shuddered behind yours.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he groaned repeatedly, still moving with you, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of both of your orgasms.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as you arched back into him, reaching behind him to grip his hair as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

It took a few moments before both of you stilled, your breathing hard, heart beating wildly. 

When your senses had somewhat turned to normal and the rushing of your blood in your ears had calmed down, you noticed your legs shaking—a definite sign of a good fucking.

You felt his breath on your neck, his breathlessness matching your own. Your body felt slick against his from all of the exertion, but it had been totally worth it. 

Spencer pushed your hair to one side of your neck, burying his face into your neck sweetly before leaving a gentle kiss there.

“My god, Spencer,” you half laughed, trying to focus the tiny bit of energy you had left on attempting to stand.

Disconnecting himself from you, he turned you to face him. He lifted you back on to the desktop to sit, not caring that your thighs were currently slick with the product of his own orgasm. Your quivering legs were thankful for the momentary reprieve though.

“I know,” he smirked, “Didn’t know I had it in me, huh?”

“Definitely not,” you smirked, lifting your face up towards his.

Your lips met his lazily. You spent a few minutes enjoying one other, mouths parting and meeting over and over, enjoying the post coital consequential kisses before getting cleaned up.

His hands splayed over the tops of your thighs, stroking gently. He may have been rough with you earlier, but you knew his gentle touch was him wordlessly assuring himself you were okay.

You were actually more than okay—you had definitely been well fucked.

“Spencer?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm?”

He pulled away from you, his eyes opening, his dreamy, currently hazy, hazel eyes meeting yours. 

“Remind me to never listen to Morgan ever again.”

TAG LIST: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @sundippedprincess​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @teamkiall​ @redbullchick​ @ifeelloved​ @one-sweet-gubler​ @nanocoool​ @delightfullyspeedyearthquake​ @unsteadyimagines​ @ughitsbaby​ @inkwiet​ @pennythetechgoddess​ @capt-engr-ssa​ @sixx-sic-sixx​ @spencersdolore @alvezstan​ @disney-dreams-world​ @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore​ @andiebeaword​ @cupcake525​ @be-the-bravest​ @gretaamyk​ @hopebaker​ @prisonreid​ @httpnxtt​ @daviddoughboy​ @pastathighs​ @marvels-gurl​ @blushingspencer​ @simp-for-mgg​ @victorzsaszmydaddy​ @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar​ @xshakesqueerx​ @queenofmischief​ @mattgraygubler​ @gracelovesyouu​ @itsarayofsunshine​ @alexisparmentier @la-vie-en-amour1​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @saintd0lce​ @cherryxblossoms​ @jessaminelovelace​ @rainsong01​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @futuremrsspencerreid​ @slutforthegubes​ @purple-scarf-mistress​