#Gideon spoke to the fingers; what do they think about it all

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Though on that note of Gideon saying the Marika wants everyone to struggle eternally: Are the two-fingers actually in on that? I wonder.

We do a whole little song and dance of "oh, the Erdtree has denied you, now what, oh you have to do the first cardinal sin and burn the Erdtree and release destined death" but like, Vyke apparently did this dance already and so did Bernhal. So it's like...someone here is fibbing.

And to a degree I can buy that like. The Fingers have no fucking idea what to do here and were really hoping that this time, the tarnished would be accepted as Elden Lord and everything would be fixed. And also that by their nature, they can't really admit that a cardinal sin needs to happen and the Erdtree needs to be burned (and somehow, destined death gets thrown into the mix idk it's one of the sloppier things about this game to me that it's thrown in so weirdly, I can only surmise unleashing destined death - something Enia claims the fingers and greater will would never allow - is something everyone kind of knows needs to happen, but the fingers are locked in a kind of loop over the contradiction of it all and the best they can do is kind of close their eyes and not watch while you go do blasphemy)

That is to say are the fingers faking being against Marika or not you know.

[thatgayb1tchwhosimps4her]

Naked In New Orleans

Chapter 1 - The Introduction Part 1.

Word Count: 2066.

TW: Normal CM case details, Jemily mention (not confirmed, and not really a TW, but yk), Suggestive content in the last quarter, but not full smut!! Let me know if there's more.

Summary: Reader and Will meet JJ and the rest of the team; flirting and responsible intoxication ensues.

~~~

The team were looking over the details of the case on the jet; 3 bodies pre-Katrina in 18 months, a 4th being found a few days ago. The victimology was all over the place, "Besides from being male, and walking the French Quartet late at night" is what Morgan had said, while everyone was bouncing theories off each other.

After landing in New Orleans, and a brief car ride, JJ, Gideon and Morgan landed at the crime scene.

"You must be BAU. Detective William Lamontagne Junior." Will greeted, holding his hand out for Jennifer to shake.

"Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone." The blonde responded, in her usual friendly tone, as he looked her over.

"Well, okay then. Pictured you different." He stated, unprompted.

"Will, don't go distracting the pretty agent from doing her job." A woman said, walking away from her conversation with a few cops from New Orleans PD, reaching her own hand out to JJ.

"Detective Y/N Lamontagne, you actually spoke to me." She, Y/N, added, wordlessly pulling her hand from the liaison's, before moving on to shake Gideon's and Morgan's.

"Don't worry, everyone gets that confused at one time or another, even though I'm probably the better looking one." The female detective smirked, her accent noticeably more watered down than Will's.

"Now, now, Phoenix, we both know that's not true." He teased, lightly kicking his shoe against the cane held in her left hand, throwing her off-balance for a moment.

JJ noticed a flash of anger and irritation on Y/N's face, before she swiftly composed herself, rolling her shoulders back and subtly adjusted her posture, deciding to change the subject. "Please ignore my idiot big brother, he never knows when to shut the hell up; been like that since we were kids. How can we help?"

"I understand you received a letter." Gideon interjected, deciding it was best to get started with the job at hand.

"Yeah. Before they were lost in Katrina, daddy received two others. This one came addressed to him yesterday, and they passed it on to me." Will started, handing the new letter that was in an evidence bag over to Gideon.

"Are you sure it's from the same killer?" Jennifer asked, looking between the pair, before Gideon answered. "It's a detailed account of what he did to the bodies."

Once they'd finished up at the crime scene, and gone to William Lamontagne Senior's house, to see the word 'Jones' carved into the wall, they headed back to PD headquarters, receiving a verbal autopsy report from Prentiss and Reid, along with their discovery of the UnSub potentially being a surgeon, or having gone to med-school, as well as and the pair's and Hotch's analysis on the letter; a modern day version of Jack the Ripper, loose in New Orleans.

---

The next day, Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and Will were called to another crime scene, to talk to two friends of the new victim; the UnSub had struck again. Meanwhile, back at the station, Hotch was combing through the evidence they had to double and triple check they hadn't missed anything, which gave a chance for JJ and Y/N to talk, in between making calls and giving orders.

"Hey-" Y/N started, coming up behind JJ, handing her a cup of coffee, before sitting down next to her.

"Hi- Thank you." The blonde responded, finishing up a few notes, and taking a sip.

"Forgive me for being self-conscious, but I want you to know that I was just messing around yesterday with the whole "pretty agent" comment. Thinking about it now, it probably sounded a little bit undermining, and that wasn't my intention, in case we got off on the wrong foot." She added, running her pointer finger around the rim of her mug, as an anxious tick.

"Oh, it's okay- Don't even worry about it; I've had worse." The liaison disclosed, brushing it off.

"That's.... sad, I guess- Not that you're sad, or anything. I mean, I don't even know you, so I can't accurately dictate that, but just that shit like that sucks." The detective rambled, barely making eye contact with her even once.

"It's okay, Y/N. I get what you mean, I promise." JJ reassured, placing her left hand over the woman opposite her's free hand.

"Okay, thank you. I just didn't want you to think I was a tool like a fair few of the guys in this department." Y/N disclosed, which was met with a smile, and a small chuckle, from the blonde, before their conversation was cut off by Hotch walking over to them. "They're back; we're ready to give the profile."

---

After they'd delivered the profile, and a brief phone call from the BAU team's technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, Prentiss and Morgan (and assumedly Reid) left for Texas to check out an unsolved case in Galveston (where a lot of refugees from Katrina relocated) from four months ago, of which was missing a kidney like one of Jack the Ripper's victims; leaving you, Will, and the rest of the BAU team to go over the details of the case, to try and come up with a list of suspects.

"Fancy a change of scenery, blondie? Apparently the rest of your team is as stubborn and kinda boring as they look; no offence." You offered, sitting against the edge of the desk in your office, that you insisted JJ use for her liaison duties, since it was quieter than trying to work smack-bang in the middle of New Orleans PD's bustling office.

"None taken?" Jennifer replied, her attention drawn toward you as you gazed down at her. "But sure, why not? It couldn't hurt, I guess. Where do you suggest that we go?"

"I have an idea."

A bar on the French Quarter was not what she had in mind.

"Neat whiskey, and whatever the lady wants, please Leon." Y/N said to the bartender, Leon, as the pair took a seat on a couple stools in front of the bar.

"Just a soda, thanks." JJ added, with a smile, as she looked over at the woman next to her. "You come here a lot?"

"Not really, no, but it was my dad's favourite; so outside of school, and sports, me and Will basically grew up here." She replied, resting her cane between her legs. "Hell, Leon here could probably tell you what my favourite animal was from I was a kid- Thank you." The detective added, accepting both drinks from the bartender, and handing the soda to the other girl.

"It's not right." Y/N started after finishing her second whiskey, while JJ was still nursing her soda. "The French Quarter is one of the only parts of the city that dodged Katrina, and now there's an assumed dead serial killer on the loose."

"It's a small area," The blonde reassured. "We're narrowing down the profile; we'll find him."

"I just hate that this guy has a leg up on us, you know?" She said, raking a hand through her hair, before dropping it on the bar.

"I promise, as soon as my team knows anything, we'll hear about it, okay?" The liaison replied, resting her hand over the other woman's.

"You're not married." Y/N stated after a little while, her eyes flicking from the blonde's hands, which were now occupied with a pad of paper and a pen, to her face; only now noticing how gorgeous the colour of her eyes were.

"I'm sorry?" Jennifer responded, her eyebrows knitting together slightly, as she looked up from her case notes.

"There's no tan-line on your ring finger. I know that DC typically rains a lot, so you might not have one if you were, but you seem like the kind of person who'd wear her wedding ring; if not on your hand, then you'd at least have it on a necklace, or something, but I see no chain under that sweater-shirt of yours." The detective explained, leaving the liaison speechless for a few moments.

"And what does my marital status have to do with this case how?" The other girl replied, subtly trying to keep the topic of conversation professional.

"Truthfully? Nothing, I'm just testing the waters; seeing if it's okay for me to flirt with you, or if I got the wrong impression, and you're actually with that pretty brunette lady." Y/N shrugged, turning fully to look at her.

"What, Emily? No, we're not together; I'm not with anyone, fyi." JJ disclosed, trying to ignore the former comment, looking back down at her notes.

"Excuse me, compliments from the woman in the blue top." One of the servers said, passing a glass over to the detective.

"Wow, that was bold." The blonde stated, exasperatedly, as the woman next to her pushed the glass away.

"She probably thought we were just working; you jealous?" Y/N teased, tucked a hand under her ear.

"No-! We are working. I'm just... surprised, that's all." The liaison stammered out, to back herself up.

"You're a lousy liar, as well, y'know that?" The other woman smirked, basking in the girl's brief bashfulness, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You wanna get out of here?"

---

JJ doesn't know what made her agree, but shortly after raiding Y/N's liquor cabinet for a bottle of red, and drinking about half of it in her kitchen, the pair drunkenly stumbled into her bedroom, giggling as they both crashed onto her bed.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, Jen." Y/N muttered, lying on top of the other girl, and pressing kisses along her neck.

"Y/N...." JJ sighs out softly, letting her head fall back, as she tangled both her hands in the detectives hair.

"Do you, have, any, idea, how, insane, you, have driven me, the last, couple, of days?" The woman asked, punctuating her words with soft kisses to the blonde's plush, pink lips.

"Do you have any idea how unprofessional this is considered?" JJ retorted, lazily curling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Do you want to stop?" Y/N pondered, pulling back and straddling the blonde's lap.

"No- No. I'm just messing around." The liaison replied, trailing a hand over the other woman's white button-up.

"Okay." The detective stated, moving to kiss her again, over and over while snaking your hands under her shirt, pulling it up as JJ got to putting her fingers to work by unbuttoning your shirt.

Once you'd both sheded your shirts, and discarded them on the floor, both pairs of your hands moved to grasp any inch of flesh they could get to; hers on your hips, and yours on her bra-covered tits.

"You are literally an angel." You uttered, as JJ unclasped her bra a few moments later, letting her breasts spill out, before you looked her over fully.

"Oh, shut up-" She mumbled, her cheeks dusted a just-about noticeable shade of pink, as she buried her hands back in your hair, and initiated the kiss again.

Moaning softly against her lips, you both continued like this for a good 10 minutes (your hands occasionally venturing lower), even after JJ switching her position, to straddle your lap instead.

After a solid 5 minutes of her being on top of you, and almost getting to 3rd base, the liaison's phone rang from her jeans (which were now on the floor), causing you both to groan.

"Just ignore it-" You murmured, wanting this moment to last forever.

"Hang on-" The girl stated, pressing a final kiss to your lips, before rolling off your lap, and sitting up on her knees, bending over the edge of the bed slightly, as she grabbed her phone from her back pocket, and answered it.

"Jareau." JJ picked up the phone, holding it to her ear, listening intently to who was on the other end.

"Yeah, I'm at her apartment now. Okay, thanks, bye" The blonde spoke after a few minutes.

"What's going on?" Y/N questioned, picking JJ's bra and shirt up from the floor, and handing them to her, suspecting they may need to head back to the office.

"That was Morgan and Prentiss," JJ said, accepting her clothes from the women. "The UnSub we're looking for is a woman." Both of you suddenly became hyperaware of all of the women that were at the bar you went earlier; including the one who you got given a drink by.

~~~

Holy shit, I did it!! I am exhausted, and my mouth is really dry (I hunkered down to do the last 1k words in three hours, which is really good for me). Hope you guys like this, and see you in chapter 3.

-Harlow

[trashyswitch]

Day 25: New Discovery

The Krew are laying under the stars in the feywild. When Gideon teases Twig, she starts teasing him back with tickles. But...Gideon looks super confused. How has Gideon went this long without knowing what tickling is?!

Here's more fanfics! I hope you all enjoy!

[“The group are laying on the grass in a circle, admiring the pretty stars in the sky. You all notice that there were so many different colored stars in the feywild. Some of the stars looked white and yellow like regular stars, but other flowers were pink, blue, light purple, orange and green. What are you all doing?” Nikkie asked. 

Mace spoke up first. “I’m laying down between Kremy and Twig. Twig is laying on my left-” 

“And I’m lying on Gideon’s right.” Richie added. 

“Yeah. And I imagine he feels really happy and comfortable. He’s laying beside both of his favorite people in the world, and he couldn’t ask for more.” Mace described. 

“Alright.” Nikkie replied before switching to Twig’s voice.] 

“A week ago, I would’ve looked at these stars and thought ‘that looks familiar’. But…” Twig smiled. “Now I see how beautiful it really is.” 

Gideon smiled. “What’s changed in that time?” 

Twig thought for a moment. “Well…I’m not sure. Maybe this adventure is helping me appreciate my life more.” Twig admitted. 

“Makes sense.” Gideon responded. 

“Adventures tend to do that. Continuous exploring is really good for a person.” Frost admitted. 

“Though with that in mind, once in a while it’s nice to have a familiar place to stay and call home.” Kremy told them. 

“Yeah…Though sometimes you don’t have to be in a place to call home. If I’m ever feeling homesick, I’ll always pull out my whittling things and make myself something.” Gricko admitted. 

“My preferences are more…observant. I feel the happiest when I’m exploring and documenting my discoveries.” Frost admitted. 

“I feel more right at home when I’m cooking my favorite gumbos.” Kremy admitted. 

“Torbek doesn’t have a lot of happy moments…” Torbek admitted. “But…Torbek does feel happier when drunk.” Torbek explained. 

“I think I feel the most happy whenever I’m with Kremy.” Gideon admitted. 

Twig giggled. “What about me, silly?” Twig asked. 

Gideon smirked. “Well…Ya see, I would choose you bu-” 

[“Twig starts poking Gideon’s side.” Nikkie described.] 

Gideon threw his head back and wheezed. “BAHAHAhaha!” 

“Take it back! Take it back now!” Twig reacted. 

“OHOKAY, ITAKEITBACK! IHIHI TAHAKE IT BAHAHACK!” Gideon yelled. 

[“Oh geez, that was quick!” Nikkie reacted.] 

“Good.” Twig stopped poking him and laid back down. “And don’t forget it. Or else~” She wiggled her fingers at him. 

But Gideon looked at the fingers with pure confusion. “Uhhhh…What?” Gideon mumbled. 

“Or else I’ll make you regret it!” Twig replied, narrowing her eyes and wiggling her fingers more. 

Gideon stared at the wiggling fingers, completely unphased by them. “What…are you doing?” He asked. “What’s…” Gideon wiggled his own fingers at her, imitating her movements. “This?” 

Twig squeaked and widened her eyes. “Uh…” She mumbled. 

Gideon widened his eyes and gasped. “Whoa, did I scare ya?!” He asked. 

“No! No, you didn’t.” Twig replied, trying to hide her blush. 

Frost sat up and looked at Gideon. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“Twiggsy keeps doing this-” Gideon wiggled his fingers at him. “-to me. And I’m not sure why.” 

Frost sat up. “I see…Do you know what this-” Frost imitated. “-means?” 

“...No?” Gideon replied. 

“Ah…I think the problem is, he doesn’t understand the meaning behind the action.” Frost explained. “He doesn’t understand that this-” Frost wiggled his paws. “-correlates to tickling.” 

“Hold on…What’s the word?” Gideon asked. 

“The main word is called tickle. The action is called tickling.” Frost explained. 

“Tick-tickle-” Gideon let out a low laugh. “What the hell is that?!” 

Twig looked at Gideon. “Oh my…You really don’t know what tickling is?” She asked. 

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to?” 

[“Shit, he really doesn’t know.” Andy muttered with a chuckle. 

Mace shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, if you know his backstory, then it makes sense that he wouldn’t really know what tickling is.” Mace mentioned. 

“Wasn’t he imprisoned by hobgoblins at about age 18?” Derek asked. “Did he not have a normal childhood?” 

“Well yeah, but…” Mace sighed. “We’ll just say that he forgets what tickling is for the sake of this story.” Mace decided. 

“But what about Kremy? Wouldn’t Kremy teach him what it is?” Mikey asked. 

“Well…” Kremy leaned into Mace’s ear and whispered something. 

Mace laughed a bit and nodded his head. “That makes so much sense…” Mace mentioned. 

“What?” Derek asked. 

Kremy giggled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”] 

“What’s this ‘tickle’ thing?” Gideon asked. 

“Tickling is one of the silliest activities ever!” Twig declared. 

“Well, that depends…” Frost spoke up. “Logically, tickling is the act of poking, squeezing or scratching a certain spot to make you laugh. It’s usually used as a form of child’s play between a parent and a child, or between siblings. However, it can also be a go-to activity for friends and lovers to show love or mischief.” Frost explained. 

“Uh huh…” Gideon turned to Twig. “So…when you poked my side and I started laughing, that was intentional?” He asked. 

“Yup!” Twig replied. 

[“I look down at his own side and start poking it, to try and make myself laugh.” Mace described.

Nikkie hung her head and laughed. “Of course you do…” 

Andy chuckled. “I mean, who HASN’T tried that?!”] 

  Gideon looked confused. “I don’t get it. When Twig did it, I couldn’t stop laughing. But when I do it…” Gideon kept poking. “It doesn’t work.” 

Frost nodded. “That’s normal. It is next to impossible to tickle yourself. Though I don’t know why you can’t, I do theorize it could be because your body knows it’s happening.” Frost explained. 

“Aww…” Gideon looked a little pouty. “So I have to ask if I want to be…” 

“Tickled?” Twig clarified. 

“Yeah.” Gideon pointed to Twig. “Tickled.” 

“You wanna be tickled?” Twig asked, gasping and smiling brightly. 

“I mean…if it isn’t a problem-” 

[“Twig jumps up and starts tickling you right away. No skipping a beat. Just dives right into it.” Nikkie described. 

“Damn!” Mace reacted. “Alright…”

“Need some help with that?” Richie started poking and tweaking his closest side.] 

“GaHAHAHA! Shihihihit!” Gideon jumped and covered up his sides. 

“Well…Looks like I should log this for later.” Frost admitted. 

[Derek grabbed his pencil and started mimicking writing something down on a piece of paper with his hand.] 

“FROHOHOST, YOU AHAHAHASS!” Gideon yelled at him. 

“Oh, my apologies. Was I not supposed to remember your ticklish spots?” Frost asked rather casually. 

“Awww! Your face is red! And I don’t think it’s just your skin color~” Twig teased. 

“NOHOHOhohoho!” Gideon covered his face and rolled onto his side. “Dohohon’t mahake fun of meeheehee!” Gideon whined.

Kremy almost dropped his jaw. Did Gideon just whine like a little kid?! “Ya know, I never imagined you to be ticklish.” Kremy admitted. “Like…ever.” 

“Who knew!” Twig cheered. “Now, I wonder what would happen if…” Twig brought her fingers to his belly. 

“Whehehere areyou- GaAAAHAHAHAHA!” Gideon shrieked and wheezed. 

“This is just getting cuter and cuter!” Twig reacted. 

Gideon slightly covered his mouth as a squeak left his mouth. “EEEEEK! OHO JEEHEEHEESUHUHUS!” Gideon shook his head and kicked his feet, trying desperately to hide his belly. 

“Sorry to interrupt…But Torbek is trying to understand something:” Torbek pointed to the flailing fire genasi. “Gideon did not know what tickling was until Miss Twig brought it up.” Torbek pointed to Kremy. “But Mr. Kremy and Mr. Gideon have been friends for maaany years now. Which means Mr. Kremy has never mentioned tickling to Mr. Gideon before.” Torbek continued. 

[“Oh shit!” Nikkie muttered. 

“Uh oh…” Richie muttered.] 

Kremy widened his eyes and looked at Torbek with a nervous look. “Uhhhh…” 

“But whyyyyy?” Torbek asked. 

[Mikey wheezed. “Oh my god…” He squealed. 

Derek was laughing and clapping his hands. “Coherent Torbek, is awesome.” He admitted.] 

Twig stopped tickling and looked up at Kremy. “Torbek has a good point!” Twig turned to Kremy. 

“Perhaps he’s scared that Gideon will get him back.” Frost mentioned. “Gideon is pretty strong.” Frost added.

Gricko smirked a bit. “Ooooooh! Maybe~” Gricko giggled as he looked at the fire genasi. “If that’s the case, then Kremy must be veeeeery ticklish.” Gricko teased.

[“I’m just trying my best to hide my face with the top hat.” Richie admitted, acting it out. 

“I get up and walk closer to Kremy.” Mace described. “Come on guys…Give the man a break.” Mace told them, patting Richie on the shoulder. 

Richie slowly lowered his hand.] 

“Th-Thanks Gid…” Kremy told him. 

“Cause only I’m allowed to get him!” Gideon declared. 

[“I start tickling him back.” Mace told the group, before tickling Richie. 

“NO!” Richie yelped and wheezed with laughter.] 

[smolandweirdwriter]

Serafina and The Black Cloak Reread Thoughts: Chapter Three

Babe wake up new slang just dropped: “gnawin’ on leather” 

Her pa doesn’t like mr poe gives “my dad won’t let us watch horror movies so you have to sneak them over in a different dvd cover if we’re gonna watch a horror movie when you sleep over later tonight” omg rowena & serafina girltime au?? (Lol sorry)

Oooooh the dynamo’s busted I wonder what thaaat meeeaannnssss (hehehe)

Biltmore being one of the few homes to have electricity is a nice reminder of the time period

“she’d been trying to follow [her pa’s] rules at least some of the time” lol

“Spotting an upholstered chair she felt an overwhelming desire to run her fingernails over the plush fabric” REAL

Her being shocked at flower vases & the idea of flowers INSIDE the house is so funny

Awwww poor sera, looking for her momma and siblings everywhere…

Serafina is super smart. just putting that out there. She’s brilliant and I love her

Oop the first description of Edith Vanderbilt kinda gives chatgpt-generated ngl (obviously it wasn’t bc it predates chatgpt & shitty ai writing generators, & this book is SO MUCH BETTER than anything an AI could generate regardless) 

“A refined and attractive woman, Mrs. Vanderbilt had a pale complexion and a full head of dark hair, and she seemed at ease in her role of hostess as she moved through the room.” Idk what about this makes me think “AI generated” but it just DOES

“Serafina loved to climb the tapestries at night and run her fingernails down through the soft fabric” AGAIN SHES SO REAL FOR THIS

OHOHOHO MR THORNE NAMEDROP:

“I’m sure that most of you already know Mr. Montgomery Thorne,”… Mrs. Vanderbilt said with a gentle sweep of her arm toward a gentleman. “He has graciously offered to play [the violin] for us today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Mr. Thorne said with a smile as he stepped forward. ... To Serafina, who’d been listening to Biltmore’s visitors her entire life, he didn’t sound like he came from the mountains of North Carolina, or from New York like the Vanderbilts. He spoke with the accent of a southern gentleman, maybe from Georgia or South Carolina.”

Serafina having an eye for fashion was NOT what I was expecting from this reread lol (she describes mr t’s outfit then says “all of which she thought went nicely with his silvery-black hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns”)

Hmmm interesting she actually sympathizes with/likes mr Thorne at first?? I did nOT recall that

Lol serafina liking to watch mr Thorne’s fingers move as he plays and wanting to pounce on them is so Cat of her

OMG BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN

Apparently he looks “sickly, a little frail even” which I do not recall, but hes also got “watchful, sensitive brown eyes” and “a rather fetching tussle of wavy brown hair”

“Are you lost?” WE GOT IT WE GOT THE LINE but more importantly we got the NEXT LINE which is “May I help you find your way?” And hes described as not timid or shy but also not overly confident which I LOVE (fun fact this line is very similar to one of the characters of my other favorite kid’s book series, Keefe Sencen’s “you must be lost” line)

Lol Braeden always sharing his food with Gideon annoys the chefs i LOVE him

OMG HE BOWS TO HER WHEN SHE GIVES HIM HIS NAME LIKE SHE’S A PROPER LADY!!!!! MEN!!!! TAKE NOTES!!!!!! THIS IS HOW IT’S DONE!!!

Name drop at last, missing girl’s name is Clara Brahms. Honestly I’m a little sad Clara isnt a recurring character later on. Braeden, Serafina, and Clara could’ve been a good trio 

OOOOHH “She had heard the servants in the kitchen joke that their master must have secretly found the Fountain of Youth” what a NICE SET UP for how the black cloak keeps people young & serafina’s suspicion of mr Vanderbilt

Mr Vanderbilt: *wears dress shoes to go riding*

serafina: criminal activity right there. Lock him up

This was my favorite chapter so far, probably because it introduces us to so many different characters and moving parts. I like Mr. Vanderbilt a lot more than I remember (as a historical figure now that I know more about him & also as a character) and Braeden is, of course, perfect in every way.

[babygirlrex0504]

Bounty Pt. 8*

Everything has settled, Moeff Gideon gone and now the Child, you, and Din can explore the galaxy to find more Jedi. To take him to training. As the child as finally fell asleep you and Din finish what you both started.

Warnings: swearing, SMUT, fluff, if you are 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering, PiV, unprotected sex, breeding link if you squint, making out

Previous

A/N: The finale of the first book of the series! I am so excited on how well it has been going! I am currently making the Book Two “Part List,” and almost done with the next part of the Clan of Three series! I will also be starting one of the one shots so look for that ;)

Taglist:@pascalshimbo @flowersgirl02 @yourunstablegf

Tag Form

Masterlist

Bounty Series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You thought about how the Mandalorian gave you the neckless when escaping from the troopers, as you fiddled with it. Clan of Three. Din, the child, and you. Why were you included? The kid of course he is now what Din calls him his foundling child, that is what the Mandalorians believe when rescuing a orphan child.

You handed the other neckless back to Din, which the kid found it and now he has it. It was larger then him which made it adorable around him. It was hours as Din navigated to our next destination. You have played with the child and attempted to teach him how to use the force a bit.

He didn’t like it too much, got bored quickly and was entertained in the neckless once more. You ran around trying to get him to settle, as he jumped and got into things. Finally as he settled down, he snuggled into your arm. You hummed to him as he continued to play with your neckless now. You were so concentrated on the child you didn’t even hear Din behind you.

Din stood there for a moment, looking at your hair as it swayed with the rhythm you hummed, how your hips rocked back and forth, how you held the kid. It stirred something in him even more after the Armour claimed you as one of our own. In his clan. You belonged to him. His. Now seeing you with the child had him thinking about other things. How you would look when he would spread his seed inside you. Watching throughout the months how you would swell, with his child. Before he could think about it any further he went back up, quietly trying not to his seat.

You place the kid in the hamper and looked at the ladder, shutting the small door. You climbed up and sighed once all the way to where Din was at. “All that fighting has him hyper.” You joked as you walked in.

“I could hear that.” Din said softly.

It went silent. “Do you understand why I am in your clan? I mean I am no Mandalorian.” You asked suddenly, sitting down facing him.

You didn’t understand still shocked even, you weren’t Mandalorian. You were what they consider an enemy. Din looked straight at the blackness with the light dots surrounding the glass before he sighed. “You have been traveling with me for years, she knew of you,” He looked over at you and you stared back. He got up and walked to you. “You do not have to be a Mandalorian to be in a clan.” You looked up at him as Din dragged one of his fingers down your cheek. You leaned into it, been wanting the touch he gave so many days ago. “When being invited to a clan it is a great honor, it could mean you are a foundling, friend, or…” He paused looking away for a moment.

You slowly stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Or?”

He cleared his throat. “Or a partner.”

You stood there for a moment trying to understand what he meant of…Oh. Your eyes widened. “As in a lover?” You whispered not taking your eyes off of his helmet.

He nodded. “Yes. Our beliefs is that whoever is in the clan are people that they trust with their lives.”

You nodded listening as he spoke. You looked away. “So she chose me because…”

“Because we are a family.” Din finished having you look back.

You both stood there for a moment taking it in. Din held his hand out to help you stand, he stood above you as you looked back up into his visor. Din then slid his hands to your sides. Sending chills down your spine. A family. You never thought that would be something in your future. Especially with a Mandalorian. As a Jedi there are no attachments aloud and yet here you are attached enough to be in his clan. His own clan. Something you know your master is frowning at but you didn’t care. At this point of time, you were happy, at peace.

Din placed his head against yours. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner mesh’la ka’ra.” He whispered, you leaned into his helmet closing your eyes.

You smirked. “What does that mean?”

Din rubbed his hands up and down your sides, as one slowly brushed the side of your breast. You bit your lip for a moment. “It means,” His hand travelled down to your ass and squeezed it. You gasped as you arched your body a it. “I love you,” You opened your eyes staring at his visor. He leaned down to your ear rubbing your sides once more. “My beautiful stars.”

His hands froze as you reached up to his helmet. “I love you too my warrior.” You whispered.

He stared down at you and groaned softly. You barely heard it coming from him. Din sighed and leaned down. “Close your eyes Cyare.”

You fluttered them close as you heard the hiss noise once more. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt his lips connect to your neck, you shuddered from the sudden contact but arched into him. As he kissed up to connect your lips he moaned as you accepted his tongue immediately.

His hands darting from your ass to your sides. As your hands grabbed and tugged his hair. When you tugged a little too hard, Din bucked his hips into your core sending a moaning out of you. You felt him smirk as he did it again letting another one out. “Fuck.” You whispered, from a small break of kissing.

He backed up pulling you with him as he settled into his chair. He guided you to sit in his lap. You felt the bulge that sat in between your legs. You grounded your core and grind on it softly, earning a long moan from him. You smirked this time and did it again hitting that bundle of nerves making you moan as well.

Din’s hand snuck behind your head and tugged a bit making you gasp as he lifted his hip to grind back. You gasped once more as he attacked your neck and the skin that showed on your chest. “Take your pants off.” You heard him say, the stern assertive tone made your stomach do flips.

Din helped you stand as he helped you take off your pants. “So beautiful,” he whispered as you felt his beard scrap you so deliciously up to your panties, biting down before soothing it by licking a strip on it. “Do you want this?” He asked before rubbing his hand on your lower abdomen.

You could feel your legs shake from anticipation, your heart thundering throughout the room. “I want you Din.” You whispered closing you eyes tightly. You could imagine how he looked, his hair messed up, his eyes blown with lust, how he was sitting in front of you.

He groaned once more as he pulled your panties down revealing your wet pussy. He pushed your legs slightly to dig one gloved finger and swipe up the juices. You heard him suck your juices on his finger and groan once more. “So wet. So good. Just for me.” He whispered as you heard him fiddling with his pants. He guided you back on his lap.

You felt his cock as you sat down, hard, silky. He leaned in and kissed you hard this time, this time it was lustful, need, want. All this time, how both you and Din would stare at each other, pull each other more in like you were not close enough. All those days being together, all those times when you shared stories, jobs, small touches, his nicknames. All pent up emotions now here in this moment, like crazy teens just exploring. Both of you didn’t know how much you wanted each other until the child came along, the realization that you both needed each other and Maker how happy you both feel.

You rocked your hips barely hitting his cock. Din groaned lifting his hips and hitting your clit barely. You moaned then kissed his cheek, then bit his ear softly before whispering. “I need you now Din.”

You felt Din shuddered and he lifted you with one arm and lined his cock to your entrance. You pushed down your hips as he gripped your thigh. You heard his breath stop while, yours did too. Your tight pussy stretching more and more as his cock slowly went inside. This wasn’t your first time having sex, it was however been a while since you did. Maker it hurt but it felt so damn good once his cock settled at the hilt of your womb.

Din let out a long moan after his cock settled in. You felt your walls flutter and he hissed. Placing his head between your breast. “Fuck y/n, you…ah…you feel so good.”

That gave you the opportunity to move up and slam down. Earning another moan from him. You did the same motion gripping his shoulder feeling the cold of the beskar on your hand. You kept going up and down slowly feeling his cock brushing softly against your walls. You felt Din’s hands grip you hips before his hips snapped up letting out a short scream.

Din cupped your mouth as he did the motion again. You squeezed your eyes at that point, trying not to make any noise. “You gotta stay quiet,” Din groaned as he quickened the pace. “Can’t…Wa…Fuck…”

You knew what he was trying to let out as his and your hips started to slap against one another. Making the most dirties sounds. You tried to keep holding on as you felt the familiar tight feeling in your stomach. Din grabbed you ass as he picked you up and placed you in the console. You gasped as now he was at a new angle, now hitting that sweet spot you so desired.

You started to repeat his name over and over again as he slammed into you hard and fast. He lift your legs to rest against his shoulders. Your mouth stayed open with nothing coming out. You knew, fuck you knew his armor was gonna leave marks on you, but now you didn’t care. You can deal with that when the time comes. Right now you though you would never have thought to fuck someone in a ship let alone on the console of one with Din. His lips attached to your chest as the sloppy kisses travelled up to your neck sucking hard. “Making such pretty…ah…sounds from my cock.

Your orgasm started to peak over the crack as you gripped the edge of the console. “Din…I’m…gonna cum.” You said as you felt your walls start to tighten.

Din moaned loudly as his hips started to falter a bit, he leaned into your ear. “Cum for me Cyare.”

Your orgasm hit hard as he let your legs wrap around his waist having him go even deeper. Tears brimming your eyelashes as you swear you saw stars. “Dank Ferrik.” He said loudly as he one, two, three times slamming his cock before pulling out and came on your tunic. He let out a choked moan, trying to breathe.

You could have came right there from the sound of him cumming, as your orgasm was coming to a rest. You still had your eyes closed, even though you wanted to open them so badly. You sat there feeling the tingly feel of euphoria. Your panting becoming shallow breaths. It was moments before you felt fabric in your inner thighs. You moaned pleasantly from the feeling. Before you felt his gentle hands grab onto you as he picked you up once more to have you sit on his lap. You heard the hiss of his helmet latching back on to him.

Everything of his was back on you felt. “You can open them.” His voice was soft and quiet.

You slowly opened them, looking back at his helmet. You smiled as you placed a hand on the side his helmet. Where his cheek would be. “I am surprised I kept them open.”

Din chuckled as he nodded. “Same, next time we use a blindfold.” You smirked. He sighed grabbing your hand holding it tight. “You don’t know long I wanted to touch you. To hold you.” He whispered.

You placed your head on top of his helmet as you still looked in the visor. Pretending his eyes were there. “Me too.”

It felt like hours of you two just sitting there, holding each other, him rubbing circles on your shoulder blades. You could have fell asleep until you heard the muffled cries of a child. You chuckled lightly as you sat up. “I am hungry. You want anything?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

When you got up you could feel the soreness start. It wasn’t the worst feeling, it felt good. You smiled to yourself as you went down. Your life has become peaceful, loved, and now you can call them your family.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

[lilliesthings]

the only words that I'd known

relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

wc: 8k

tw and tags: implied/referenced rape/noncon, ptsd, addiction, suicidal ideation, canon-typical violence, mentions of Tobias Hankel and Cat Adams, angst with happy ending

summary: His hands are shaky but he complies before he can give himself the chance to think about it, to talk himself out of it, because here and now, nothing is more tangible than the presence of Luke Alvez.

Like the hand that once guided him to safety in Mexico, it's an anchor so miraculous he sometimes imagines he manifested it himself, right as he was sure he would meet his end.

An alternate version to 13x02 where Spencer Reid is not quite ready to be reinstated.

READ ON AO3

I.

“You did what you had to do and a lot of good people are alive because you did what you did." Gideon fixed him with a stern stare, spoke in a firm tone, for Reid, who was hanging by his words.

"What's the third?" Spencer had inquired.

"I'm proud of you." They both looked away. Nothing else but these words mattered to him in that brief moment, not the blood in his mouth, not his broken ribs, not the life he’d taken.

For as good as Spencer knows his recall is, the more he tries to replay Gideon's words in his mind, the more they’ve started to sound like all the other lies he’s made up to tell himself. No, he didn’t have to do the things he did, and even despite that good people are still dead because he did what he did. Everything feels shaky around him as he stares at the remains of the police tape still stuck on his apartment door.

He hasn’t even cleaned the place, not since the crime scene investigation unit did their perfunctory once over. The gauzy curtains have remained drawn ever since, and when he peers inside, the halfway closed windows shine a faint light onto his mother’s scrapbook. Despite everything it remained open on his coffee table, on the page that Cat had ripped out.

On his way back here, he had mentally counted each time his fingers ran circles around the metal hook of his messenger bag, navigating like a man with his feet stuck deep in mud.

Books and items of clothing are strewn around on the floor, along with a lamp he knocked over, covered in a layer of dust like everything else.

The apartment door opens to the living room then on to his bedroom, and back there barely visible from where he stands, his wardrobe, holding the drawer where he knows he used to hide the vials of dilaudid and sterile needles. Tobias's parting gift. So badly hidden in retrospect that it was like he’d been waiting to be caught.

No one had come looking though.

"I think I'll move." He murmurs, more to himself to break the reverie.

These floors were drenched in Cassie's blood. He might not have killed her but her blood is on his hands, in the same way that Nadie's blood is on his hands. In begging them for help, he ended up being the common denominator to their demise.

What his mind conjures up as the sound of their screams follows him sometimes… Theirs, those of the men he poisoned (Malcolm, mostly Malcolm, not Calvin Shaw). Even if it's not discernible to the naked eye, Spencer knows this with bone-deep certainty: this apartment is rotting from the inside.

Lindsay Vaughn resided here. The full extent of what she’d touched and ruined, he knows he will never know.

So he grips the cardigan Penelope gave him tighter. Unlike prison denim, it's red and soft and feels, in tiny measures, like being held by her. Even as he tries to drown out the echoed memory in his ears 'You want this Spencer, shhhh it’s okay, you want this—' with 'You love me, and I love you, and what we have is pure and transcendental and blueberry-filled.'

The real Penelope is standing right next to him, but he can’t quite bring himself to ask her for comfort.

"I'll look up hotel rooms or—"

"Hey hey. I'm wounded." Derek interrupts in a mock-hurt voice, balancing Spencer's bag in one hand, the keys of his car still dangling in his grasp. "You know that your very good friend who is standing right here has at least four impeccably restored properties?" The inflection of his voice goes from playful to concerned in a matter of seconds.

Some time ago Spencer had given Penelope a key to his apartment. In a spark of color and brightness, she walked in on him staring numbly at a wall, and decided that instant that they must visit Derek because he smells like hope and happiness. You, me and Esther, we're hitting the road.

Which finds him at the end of said visit now, and as if in definite proof that the world itself has turned upside down, Morgan and Garcia haven't exchanged a single flirty comment in the amount of time the three of them have been standing in his hallway. Even the sparkles of her necklace have considerably dimmed in brilliance like a sadly flickering lightbulb, at the end of its lifespan in a dark hallway.

Spencer realizes he doesn’t even know what expression his face must be making, but can guess that has everything to do with it, but before he can get any further on the thought Penelope’s phone chirps, and her already concerned expression, flickering from Reid to Morgan, turns more worried.

“We have a case.”

Derek is the first one to break the silence.

“Hey kid, I’m sure Emily would understand if—”

“I’ve been reinstated.” He interrupts before Derek can go there, before he is forced to acknowledge it.

More uneasy silence fills the hallway. Unable to stand how he’s sucking the life out of two of the most dynamic people he knows any longer, Spencer thanks Derek for his previous offer, thanks both for their time, grabs his bag in the process, and all but runs to the metro station.

---

He paces.

It had taken around fifteen minutes of walking aimlessly for the bravado to seep out of his body.

He could have left the BAU earlier. He didn’t, instead idling at his desk after the briefing, to go over Henry's drawing many times in a row. He traced every line as if it held the key to unlocking this Spencer Reid, the one that still existed intact in his godson's mind, who took a vacation to go see the beach for three months.

It’s nearing noon when he apathetically kicks the curb, curls plastered to his face, carrying a dull weight at the back of his skull. It would be an hour drive to get to the meeting at best. By public transportation, around four hours. He wouldn't make it in time that way, if he wanted to make it at all, and he wouldn't if he only has his sorry conscience to hold himself accountable. Which is why it has become a concentrated effort to try and school his features back to calm. When it doesn’t work, he leans his weight against a wall in half-defeat, one cup of coffee in hand, trying to still the other hand from making anxious tap-tapping motions against his thigh, when a dog comes barrelling in his direction, owner in tow only a few paces behind.

The surprise is enough to almost paint the sidewalk in coffee. If he’s being fair, it isn’t as though Luke really knows about his poor history with dogs, so the whole thing just verges on embarrassing.

"Aw she likes you!" Luke reassures, clearly trying to stifle a laugh, looking fondly at the dog. Sensing as the remark does nothing to ease Spencer’s discomfort even still he quickly adds "Here let me replace that."

Luke looks so bright and earnest that the protests that started bubbling up on the younger man’s lips quickly fade.

“No it’s alright.” He says quickly.

It’s not like that’s why they’re here anyways.

“Yeah? You sure? If we’re good to go, then I’m parked right over there.” Luke gestures.

Spencer’s mouth involuntarily tightens into a thin line.

"Thanks again, and I’m sorry to bother you with this." He really is, for having Luke witness him half-heartedly trying to claw his way back up, whether the older man is aware of it or not.

"You’re good, man. We have a few hours before taking off, dropping you off is no issue."

Spencer didn't offer details, but he’d long ago abandoned the pretense that he could blatantly hide something like this from a bunch of expert profilers. They had to know, and it’s not like he’s ever been that good of a liar, even more so now that his body seemed to betray his emotions at every turn.

Still, out of all of them, Luke is the most recent addition to the team, who, he reasons, would have the fewest reasons to jump to the worst conclusions.

The man, thankfully, doesn't make a single mention of it as he drives and parks next to the building that Spencer asked to be dropped off near because he had a thing to take care of first. It’s all out of kindness he supposes, because it isn’t as though he trusts himself with driving, not this soon, when the fading remains of a cut on his hand still burn in reminiscence, and he has to shake himself out of the tremors that crop up every time he zones out, part of him still seemingly trapped in the near past.

While Luke doesn’t pry, it doesn’t stop a second set of four legged eyes, Roxy peers curiously. It’s entirely too much again.

“Thank you, I… um… I’ll find a way back. You don't have to wait up.”

Without further hesitation, he opens the car door, clammy hands gripping the handle, and as he crosses the distance from the car to the building, he tries to drown out every thought that doesn't involve repeating his line like a mantra.

Hi my name is Spencer and I'm an a—

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

From one second to the next, he reaches the threshold and a dozen pairs of eyes turn to him.

He backtracks before his feet cross through the door. It can wait another day. It can even wait another week. A month even.

The SUV is still there. Behind the glass, Roxy barks excitedly, ears forward, her attention scrutinous on him before she lets out a high, keening whine.

The shame is suffocating as it crawls the length of his throat. He pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the driver's seat, standing still at a loss of what to do.

The driver-side door opens.

“Hey it's all good Spence,” he hears Luke say, his eyes still planted firmly on the ground, “I'll bring you back.”

He nods, swallowing down the lingering nagging sensation and breathes a little easier.

___

"This is Derek Morgan speaking." The man answers, his voice business as usual.

"Morgan, hi it's me … um, is this a good time?"

"Pretty~ Boy!" Spencer can practically hear the unsaid 'Look who figured out the wonders of technology once again!' in his tone. “What’s up?”

"Were you serious about that house?"

“Of course I was. There’s one I think you’ll like. Green walls, just like your apartment.”

“Oh … can I repaint it?”

“So now you’re just insulting me?”

“What? No! I'm sure you did a great job renovating it.” He protests, missing the sarcasm.

“Wait a minute. You should know by now I don't renovate. I restore.”

“Restore, yeah…”

Much to Spencer's chagrin, having a casual phone conversation doesn't come anywhere near as easy as simply coexisting in the same space every day. Though much to his relief, Derek has known him for the better part of a decade.

"Talk to me, kid. How are you holding up?"

"I um… I’ve been having these dreams?"

The silence stretches for a few seconds and he holds his breath in anticipation.

"Nightmares?"

"Nightmares."

I lose my mom in them and I try to reach for her but there is a hole burning in my hand in the spot where Antonia Slade spit her venom and it keeps spreading because I never made peace with—

It would mean breaching the topic of the unsubs they hunt, the very thing Derek had walked away from. So he settles for "You know how it is with the job, I'll figure it out."

He doesn’t think he’ll figure it out, he doesn't trust his capacity to figure things out anymore. It's that tightrope all over again, his mother knew, he never figured it out.

"Kid—"

This was a mistake.

"Sorry I'm—…I have to go. I’ll call you back."

In the end, what more was there to say? He couldn't be happier for him. Truly. He didn't want him to stay. He didn't.

Dread sinks from the pit of his stomach, out and deep into Spencer's bones. Slowly, he leans against the nearest table, tries to focus on the feeling of here, where there are windows to the city lights, doors he is allowed to open, and no reason to walk with his back to the walls. The coin sitting in his pocket becomes impossibly heavy.

Ten years.

He holds it to the light, and his hands start to perform the familiar choreography, the first magic trick he’s ever learned. Sleight of hand, blink and it’s gone.

The chip doesn’t make a sound as it slips out of his unsteady grip and onto the carpeted floor.

---

Raphael is in his dreams, white wings spanning over him while he tightens his hold on the shovel, to bury his body as instructed. He has nothing but time to think of what he’s done, on his knees surrounded by these seemingly endless lines of graves.

He died here too, some time ago.

Wet leaves are scattered in between the long grass, the earth squelching softly underfoot. The feeling is overwhelming, even over the feeling of the broken bones of his feet.

When Charles Hankel orders that he confess, Spencer does— to being weak, to being a liar and a sinner. He stopped feeling the chill of the Georgia night long ago, and when the words spill out of his mouth, he doesn't try to stop them. The relief is almost unbearable.

Then he is left alone, but not for long because in this shed, the rushing sensation of relief is a feeling he associates with Tobias. That's how he knows he's there before he even sees him.

His eyes are as kind as Spencer remembers them to be.

So overwhelmed with gratitude, Spencer runs to him, begs for his forgiveness. He thanks him for caring, for the lessening of his pain.

In the expanding void that they’re standing in, blinding lights reflect on the solace Tobias holds in the vial in his hand. Then nothing else exists but quivering hands that linger over Spencer’s track marks. Even now Tobias keeps helping him, it’s all he ever did.

“God gave you to me for a reason.” Tobias says again, his voice like a caress.

There were times it kept him up at night, on the days when the hatred dug deep. The idea that he should have walked out of there with an illumination, that there was an important point he’d missed entirely.

He doesn’t know.

He only knows that Tobias Hankel was his friend.

That maybe neither of them should have left that cemetery that day… that maybe neither of them have, and that’s all there was to it. So he digs and digs and digs as fast as he can.

Sometimes though, Tobias distorts into Benjamin Cyrus and Spencer hears the rest of it: 'God wants to save you, that's the reason', but there is no one to stop the cult leader, Derek has long (since) left.

---

There are a few minutes of respite on the third day of the case. He’s left behind at the police station, and he recognizes it for what it is, Emily makes him sit with her.

She thinks the limb will not break. The thought of letting her down, after everything, is a pain that cuts worse than being stabbed, so he goes on.

But the itch from his arm spreads to his every muscle, and he wonders just how much of that trust was misplaced. He opts to ignore the problem until it reaches the point where he can’t.

He stares at the map. The clock is ticking and the unsub’s pattern of movement doesn’t become any clearer.

Before him, the red thumb tacks stand out at each point of interest. He reaches to touch them and flinches as doors slam open at the same moment that cries ring out in the distance. The victim’s mother. The gruesome picture of her son is pinned to a board next to the map, barely recognizable. From underneath the room to the ceiling, there’s a palpable sense of despair surrounding and coating everything.

The lights burn his eyes. When he rubs them everything blurs in his peripheral vision, there’s only that picture in the center, burned into the forefront of his mind.

He has done this a thousand times, he used to be able to do this in his sleep. But all eyes are on him, judging, waiting. He wishes he could push them all out of the room, to give himself the space to breathe, to think without the weight of expectation.

Three hours later, it all starts to disentangle in his brain. Three hours. It sends them on an uncertain trail, and it's the unsubs that find them first.

There are two of them, their build reminiscent of once upon a time in a prison cell. He knows something is intuitively wrong in the way his limbs slowly lock in place, it comes in increments, then all at once, and when his senses scream danger, when he feels their presence a breath away— and they might or might not even be there but his ribs distantly ache in reminiscence— but the moment catches up with him and before he can stop it, his vision starts to go black around the edges, and then all at once, there’s nothing.

He knows this because much later, when Luke is shaking him out of it, bringing him back to the surface, Spencer sees injuries on him that should never have been there. So he fills in the blanks and adds this to the growing list in his mind, of the times he's let someone down. It’s just a blip, in the face of everything he’s lost, but he can’t lie to himself and say it doesn’t matter.

He tastes blood in his mouth.

There is a point where he should have cut his losses.

It’s times like right now that he thinks of death. In the idle hours between the briefings, as he goes into the field to take down an unsub, and in the deafening silence and sweat he’s woken up in every morning ever since. More likely than not, he alternates between crippling fear and anger, anger and fear, each emotion an exchange that ultimately circles back to shameful want. Between wanting to die and wanting to flood his brain to the point of euphoria— to be so high there will be no chance of even a single thought permeating his head.

He fantasizes about having to face no one ever again in his miserable life, likes to go on with the idea that maybe he won’t have to for much longer.

It’s all that's left from what Cat Adams ate alive and spat out.

But Luke visibly exhales and Spencer looks heavenward. They both hold fast.

___

Cat Adams is in his nightmares. The lack of clarity or recall, realities meshing and mixing together with what precedes it. The telltale sign is when he can’t discern where ‘you want this’ ends and ‘trust me, tell me it doesn't make it better' begins. He knows then that Tobias can't help him.

A basement turns into a hotel room in Mexico, a hotel room into a laundry room and then into a prison cell— but there is a washing machine standing out of place against the wall, walls closing in, always. There is no relief to be found in this place.

Emily's words come to life in Cat's voice.

You'll find your soulmate in prison, and when it comes for you, in the middle of the night, when you're least expecting it, do me a favor... play along…

Fear sucks the air out of his lungs. It's akin to the familiar feeling of struggling to breathe, his back against the ground in a shed. He curses Tobias for bringing him back to life that day.

So he fires blindly, forgets all about front sight - trigger press - follow through, and keeps pulling the trigger when there are no more bullets in the chamber. He kills her ten times over but each time it's Tobias that dies, eyes wide in betrayal, blood pouring from his chest where the bullet went through, and Cat keeps standing.

Solace turns into poison in her hand, then poison into leeches. He watches outside of his body, paralyzed as they crawl and close in.

Don't be the boy who cried rape, Spencie

The washing machine spins, slow and ambient, as though the cycle is nearing its end.

---

It hits him when he jerks awake, dry heaving against the floor, arms weak and barely able to hold himself against the tremors each tide of nausea brings.

Cat Adams will never die. Not for as long as he still lives.

When he knows that he is alone in the room, he feels as his body curls in onto itself, fetal and fragile, the broken body of a man, and he weeps.

---

It's another two days hazy before they finally pack.

The air is dense and oppressive with a sticky humid heat. Out in the hallway, Luke is a few steps ahead of him when he loses sight of the man to the black dots that swarm his vision. He dips into the bathroom, feet carrying him blindly as his hands feel out porcelain. Leaning against the sink, Spencer splashes cold water over his face, letting it trickle down, then comes back to the bedroom area with quick steps, wanting to put this behind them as quickly as possible.

The smell is there again, of blood and detergent and sweat. He's rubbed his skin dry in hopes of getting rid of the phantom sensation of leeches.

As he moves to close the door, the toothbrush falls out of his sleeve, and onto the floor, a few inches from Luke's feet.

For a few seconds, as his collar sticks uncomfortably to his neck, he has an internal debate on which would be the less mortifying option: darting off into the dark of night, mortification intact, or staying and facing Luke (and possibly assuring him that he is in no danger of being stabbed with a shiv)

He silently mourns whatever progress he imagines he’s made in his teammate's eyes when the light-headedness comes. In the next seconds, the trembling from his fingertips moves up into his entire body. It's impossible to think past the growing noise of deafening static, the gravel filling his lungs.

When he looks up, Luke is standing still in front of his prone figure, he moves his hands before stopping himself, as if debating on the best course of action, and finally he closes his fists at his sides.

“Spence…” he starts, and Spencer must have been looking exactly the way he feels because Luke's usually sunny demeanor sours. "I can let the team know we had an issue with the car."

He can't read Luke well enough to know his thoughts on all of this, but Spencer knows this: he would be dead if not for him, and Luke never mentions it. To anyone. Ever.

But Spencer desperately wants to know, so he watches Luke watch him, manages a strained smile in place of verbal thanks, hoping to convey how much he appreciates the non-gesture.

Later, it must be by pure force of will that he’s able to drag himself back to their hotel room without stumbling once, but they make very slow progress as Luke looks back regularly to check on him.

Spencer intentionally keeps a few steps between them because the dangerous and ever-looming probability of throwing up within Luke's vicinity would be his last straw for today.

Having witnessed him at some of his lowest points within the first few months of knowing him, desperately, he wishes for this not to be the association he makes when he thinks of Spencer, doesn't want to make it even worse.

He wonders what Luke's last straw would be. He wonders how close he’s come to crossing that threshold.

My name is Spencer and I'm—

Doctor. Agent. Addict. Convict.

I thought it was over, But recently I'm— I've really been... Your literature uses the term craving.

But Luke says ‘you did great back there’. He squeezes his shoulder and Spencer is twenty-two, successfully solving his first case again. Clinging to this like a lifeline because he has been a free-falling disaster for months on end now. It feels like a personal recognition that it wasn't a monumental waste of time and effort for Luke to save his miserable life back in prison. It was worth something.

He says Spencer has an injury, and for a moment, everything wrong feels a little less inescapable.

The key card shakes in his hand as he hands it to Luke. Behind him, Spencer waits as he scans the room for a few seconds, left to right then right to left. It is hardly necessary, but it helps much more than he knows.

The stab wound on his thigh burns distantly on the fringe of his awareness. It barely registers when the full focus of Luke's gaze roots him to the spot. Slowly, his brain catches up, autonomic nervous system reengaging after the lag, and he remembers how to breathe, filling his lungs again, he exhales.

II.

He slides his fingers beneath the edge of the curtain, parting it slightly, it would allow the faintest amount of lights into the hotel room once all of the lights were off.

If Luke sees him do it, he doesn't comment.

Curious, Spencer glances over his shoulder, to where Luke is standing near the kitchenette, tension visible on the lines of his face. There is a scar, long since healed, the line of which is stark against Luke’s arm. An expanse of discolored skin curling from wrist to the sleeve of his shirt. Spencer observes and wonders how far it goes, and the extent of the things he’s survived.

He survived.

Elle, you’re here, he’s dead, you won!

He bites his tongue, lets this thought vanish along with the tendrils of smoke emanating from whatever drink Luke is making. He won’t be making this mistake again.

“Luke means bringer of light.” He says instead, as if contemplating something he already knew. When Luke turns to face him, Spencer doesn’t meet his stare, eyes fixed on where he thinks that scar ends— probably on the inner arm between shoulder and elbow. If he could put his hand there, he imagines he would feel the persistent, slow pulse of his heart through his palms.

He pulls himself together when Luke places a mug before him, careful in his movements not to touch him. Maybe he would have, if touching inmates was allowed. Maybe.

The movement causes a pendant to fall out of the collar of Luke’s shirt, a few inches from Spencer’s face. He reaches forward to grasp it before he can think better of it. Then embarrassed by the unconstrained reflex, he lets go.

Luke shrugs off and unclasps his necklace, holding it out for Spencer to take.

"From my very catholic mother. She gave it to me a few years ago, in 2007." His eyes cloud for a moment "It's—"

"Raphael the Archangel." Spencer continues, transfixed.

They believe you can see inside men's minds.

Held by the two of them, the necklace is glimmering with silver light, and he thinks of synchronicity.

"Patron Saint of Healing." Luke finishes.

"Patron Saint of Healing." Spencer repeats slowly. Laughter bubbles from his throat at the irony, he pushes it down, not wanting Luke to think he's lost it.

So in an attempt to add some levity, he asks "No Saint Luke medallion?"

A sparkle comes back into Luke's eyes.

"That—" he starts with a smile "Would be for you, Doctor. But in the meanwhile you might just have to settle for me."

"If you’ll have me." Spencer replies on reflex, it comes out more seamlessly than he expects.

Luke is watching him when he risks looking up, he doesn't take the necklace back. Instead he walks around one last time, checking the exits.

"All good?"

"Yeah."

After sparing him one last look, Luke drags a chair up against the foot of his bed, crosses his arms, and sits facing the door.

After one last look at Luke, Spencer’s eyes close slowly, falling into sleep but not dreams.

---

On the jet, the screen of his phone lights up with Derek’s name. With slow steps, he moves to the single seat facing the back of the plane.

"Emily said you didn't want me to know. I should have been there…" His disembodied voice echoes in the receiver, Spencer thinks he probably couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

That is the issue, isn't it? He can't bring himself to lie, but the truth sounds too self-pitying right about now, and he finds himself irrationally peeved by both options.

In a moment of drawn out silence, he simply draws a blank.

The idea of inflicting the disaster that had become his life on Derek, on top of living with himself was suffocating at best. So even though the choice had felt impossible to make, it always had only one right answer, because he knows if he ever owed it to do right by someone, it would be him.

He had tried to imagine Morgan's reaction many times. Over the hundred versions of Derek that he had made up in his mind, one of them starts to consider that he named his son after Nadie’s murderer. That seed of doubt had paralyzed him. Still does.

"Are you still there?"

Spencer blinks, "I'm still there." The tug of memory ironic in the face of his mirrored word choice.

"Okay," Derek offers, "We don't have to talk about it right now."

There is an undercurrent of hurt in his voice that makes Spencer second guess himself anyway.

“It was not that—” He stops himself before he can add that bad, an absolutely meaningless sentiment.

“Don’t— please don’t” Derek says, “…Come on man, who do you think you’re talking to?”

"I m-meant…"

The truth, he starts to realize, is that he might never truly come back from this. The bleaker truth is that finds very little solace in the fact that Derek might be able to connect to a part of his ordeal. The contrast is so stark between their experiences that shame pools deep into his guts at the prospect of even bringing it up.

Not that he has anything solid to bring up but the alarming gaps in his memory and the constant need to crawl out of his skin.

It won’t do anyone any good now.

“I wanted to…” He concedes in the end, because he is fundamentally weak.

“...I know you did.” Morgan replies and the way his voice sounds almost pained makes him dig his fingernails into his arm in turn.

“Could we… talk about the house now?”

“Alright. We can talk about the house instead.” Derek mercifully relents. “...you want to try your hand at restoration?”

“Do you think I’d be any good at it?”

“I’d like to think that.”

---

"We're going to stop at mine for a minute to feed Roxy. That alright?" Luke glances over at him from behind the wheel, having just put the SUV in park outside of his apartment.

"Roxy doesn't seem to hate me and that’s as close as I came to getting along with a dog. So I'm doing great on that front." Spencer adds, trying to brush away the moment of hesitation into something more pliant and willing.

"Hah! Come up for a sec?"

From the threshold of Luke's apartment, he peers at a man coming up the hallway stairs with freshly folded laundry, waving at Luke, nodding in his direction.

"You're in the FBI too?" he asks amiably.

When two more come up, Spencer takes a few steps deeper into the apartment.

There it is again.

The smell of detergent permeating the air. There are too many people in this space and now all of them possibly know that he is a federal agent. They all heard. Sweat forms on his palms and he struggles to pull himself together as a fit of suffocating panic twists into his chest.

Luke eyes him strangely. Maybe he too knows.

You can't trust anyone Spencer, just you and me—

Luke follows his line of vision as he eyes the nearest knife in the open kitchen area.

The lights flicker. Between the space of one blink to the next, the metal doors close in, the inmates jeer, their laughter a sadistic cacophony. There are hands on him. He can't possibly fight them all off.

He’s going to die in here. He’s going to die he is going to die—

So he makes a run for the knife, yanks it, and fights against the hand that tries to pull his arm out of the way.

Narrowly he misses his own thigh, the old stab wound that saved him from the other inmates there, and it gets planted in his bad knee. There’s not enough flesh for it to take hold and before long, the knife is thrown a few feet away by the same hand from before.

Immediately he loses balance and falls. Luke follows. As his head hits the ground, Spencer laughs in bitter triumph. Everything else is drowned by the clanking of the metal and the sounds of barking in the distance.

It isn't like difficult, it's hard like asphalt is hard, like pavement.

He knows he must be crying because his chest is heaving, can hear the way his body is wracked in sobs.

He must have crossed that threshold now.

All because he never learned how to bury things and put them to rest. It was only a matter of time before it inevitably circled back to this, like his own thoughts that can’t be silenced no matter how much he wishes to just put it all in a box and shove it down in a basement, buried deeper, like the memory of Riley Jenkins before it came back to haunt him because his mind is a treacherous thing.

Vibrations hum through his skin. There is light, voices shouting, saying things that make no sense anymore, slippery and intangible. When he can focus again, he finds that his chest doesn't feel like bursting anymore. That there is a weight on top of him, a soft whine echoing in the empty space.

All is still.

And he breathes. There’s a familiar weight on his chest, Roxy laying on top of him, his brain supplies, heavy, tangible…real.

"—cer it's Luke, you're in my kitchen."

"Luke", he repeats, the words disjointed and on a delay.

Luke’s elbow is supporting his weight against the floor, a forlorn look on his face. When the dust finally settles, and the world comes back to focus, he is the one Spencer sees with clarity.

"Can you tell me what you see now?"

"… a painting, kitchen counter, a couch, Roxy?"

"Yeah" Luke smiles, though it is devoid of happiness "This isn't the first time she’s seen this.”

"You?"

He shifts to lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, until they’re mirroring each other.

"I was sure I'd never feel safe again." Luke says "I’ve cried to her, more times than I can count."

It's not that Spencer doesn't recognize the signs. He knows he can make sense of it, maybe in the same way his only certainty was that everything stopped making sense in his life, from the moment he came down from his drug-induced haze in a prison cell in Mexico, but it tips the scales to have it vocalized by someone who has ended up as the person he sees now.

“Did it ever go away?”

“Not all at once, not ever entirely... not on my own.” As he says the last part, Luke fully turns to him "It ebbs and flows, but it won't always be like this."

Gratitude courses through him in slow, steady trickles. Through it all, he finds himself searching for the gaze that he knows will pin him to the spot, but his eyes are drawn to how over the steadying rise and fall of his chest, Luke’s hand is shaking slightly.

Spencer reaches out, hesitates, puts his hand just half an inch away from Luke's shoulder.

"You're safe here. Right now. Do you believe that?" Luke asks him.

He does. He does.

So he nods when the words don’t come to his throat.

As exhaustion sinks into his bones, Spencer runs his hand through the dense fur at the back of Roxy's neck, rubbing the soft strands between his fingertips. He thinks of cumuliform heaps, of his mother, of plucking his favorite clouds.

He thinks of her hiding in the dark. Her screams, almost as gut-wrenching as the impact of her blows. Then of her offering to read to him. He imagines her voice, a moment of solace in the desolate landscape of his life, and closes his eyes to the memory.

We have knocked at every door and they open on nothing until, at last, we stumble unconsciously against the only one through which we can enter the kingdom we have sought in vain a hundred years— and it opens

"I need help", He finally voices.

"And you'll be alright." Luke smiles. Maybe part of him can believe that too.

Slowly, as if not to spook him further, Luke moves to stand up. The cluster lights reflect in his eyes, and even though nothing about him really changes, looking at him surrounded by shafts of golden light, Spencer thinks something about this image should be branded, an indelible imprint in his mind. So he solemnly memorizes every shape, every contour, every color.

"Can you hold on to me? I'll help you up."

Then he blinks and the image is all but gone from his mind. His hands are shaky but he complies before he can give himself the chance to think about it, to talk himself out of it, because here and now, nothing is more tangible than the presence of Luke Alvez.

Like the hand that once guided him to safety in Mexico, it's an anchor so miraculous he sometimes imagines he manifested it himself, right as he was sure he would meet his end.

"Alright, here we go."

They rise together, slow and unsteady, he staggers, catches himself putting them face to chest. Spencer has the strange thought that if he were to lean forward, he would be close enough to hear a faint flutter, to make out the machinery of Luke's heart. He shakes off the thoughts, disentangling himself when the acceptable amount of time to awkwardly clutch onto someone passes.

But his hands don't stop holding on.

"I can't thank you enough." He says.

That easygoing smile is back on Luke's face, and with that, the full force of his focus on him. Reid’s heart trembles in his chest. Maybe Luke can feel it too, but it's alright because he can always just blame it on his earlier breakdown.

"It’s good to have you back, Doc."

---

He’s fiddling with the ends of the bandage wrapped around his knee, sitting on a counter stool, while his other hand holds the phone to his ear.

“Penelope told me you guys were done with the case a few days ago— and you didn’t call me back, you idiot." Derek chides. When the phone had rang, Luke, perhaps recognizing his need for privacy, had squeezed his shoulder and left him to it.

Spencer runs his hand through his hair “I had a… thing come up.”

"A thing." Derek pauses, his tone still speaks of unveiled concern, but he quickly catches himself, "Mmkay... I think I should come over— and smack you over the head, for good measure."

Before it has time to form, Spencer quickly blinks away the moisture from his eyes, "Yeah I think you should do that, actually."

"Yeah? Glad we agree." Morgan says, in a much lighter voice "... How was today?"

"There’s been late nights—" and with as much sincerity as he can muster, he quickly adds "But much better than yesterday."

"My man!" Derek exclaims then, as though he has been let in on a secret Spencer himself is not aware of. It’s reminiscent of the proud voice that was so off the mark, a decade ago.

"Still not that kind of late night, Morgan."

"Right right. So listen, you need my help with repainting that house or…?"

A welcome diversion then.

"I do, yeah. I would love your help."

If pressed, Spencer would admit there has never been a point in his life, ever since he’s known Derek Morgan, that he did not need him. As hard as he’s tried to extricate himself from this, because he grew up being constantly on the defensive, it’s as inescapable as the gravitational pull of his presence, the vast extent of his heart.

"Got it. It will be fixed in no time, kid."

Spencer's lips arch into a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I need to tell you something else, though."

"Hm?"

"Luke Alvez. He reached out to me a few days ago— that night I couldn't sleep."

"Luke he— what?"

"I think he wanted to help you, and was met with one thing where he found himself out of his depth. It's… something you said in your sleep."

"What did I say?"

"Nine years ago, you and I were staying with the Bridges family. You had a nightmare in their living room that night."

Morgan get them off! Get them off me! Get them off me! Morgan! Get them off me!

"That’s why I was the one he called … and part of me has been trying to backtrack out of getting through to you because I couldn't bring myself to…" There’s a beat of silence as he tries to find his words, "But I first need you to know that … well … you know."

Though it is an affirmation, Derek’s voice hangs like a question, and Spencer is thrown back to that night, standing a few feet from his front door, tasting victory and crushing defeat simultaneously, and Derek not finding the words, holding him steady as he crumbles. Morgan hadn't needed to say anything out loud for him to understand.

"I know", he manages, as his own voice cracks before he can catch himself to stop it, "I know."

Overwhelmed, he starts to pace in the small space of Luke’s kitchen, rubs his fingers over his palms. He pictures a bright smile in his mind's eye and soaks in these familiar patterns that mend the faintly bruised parts of his heart, an old ache from months ago.

“So listen to me … I know how scary it must feel for you right now. And you know—” Derek’s voice fades off for a few seconds during which Spencer stops breathing entirely, “...You know how shame once tore me apart. You know that."

"I don't want that for you, kid… So will you talk to me about it? One day?”

Spencer swallows a sob, nods to himself, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat and the way the phone’s receiver sticks to the side of his face.

“I will,” He pauses, “I want to tell you Morgan, and I will.” The next words slip out before he can stop himself “I missed you.”

"I’ll always be in your corner." Morgan breathes, something private just between the two of them, then in a more lively voice, "Alright, see you soon. Play on playa~"

The way the laugh sputters from Reid’s lips is so sudden that it nearly throws him off balance.

Like waves washing ashore and fading away, the tremors come and go, and in an ultimate act, they leave him entirely. Maybe things have changed, they will keep changing certainly, but in his own private heart of hearts, this, he allows himself to think, can never be lost.

“I’m still here, there’s a third thing I forgot to say.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m proud of you.”

---

Neither of them slept. In the quiet hours of the morning, Luke makes him sit down with him to stop him from pacing, reminding him of his bad knee that just got a little bit worse from the self-inflicted injury. Roxy is soon to follow. Beyond the window to Luke’s living room, the cityscape is progressively enveloped in a curtain of rich gold and reds and brown. Soon it would be glowing on them too, illuminating everything in turn.

Still, Spencer stays unsettled for a few seconds longer.

"I'm really sorry for this though.” He starts, “I will apologize to your neighbors."

Through the dull pain, the remnants of embarrassment are slowly fading. He can focus on the soft weight of Roxy's head pressed on his lap and tune out anything that happens beyond that.

"Hey, it's all good, man. Keeps them on their toes."

He chuckles, a soft tremor filled with genuine intent.

"Don't be sorry, Spence. I got you, alright?", Luke insists, reassuringly earnest, "It's fine not to figure everything out just yet, but you have me, I meant that. Whenever you're ready, you take the leap."

Spencer’s gaze trails from Luke’s face, the deep-set brown of his gaze, and down to his bandaged wrist, his hands, they’ve stopped shaking.

"What’s the apprehension?" He asks, snapping Spencer out of it.

There was the truth, so simple it didn’t feel dismaying in here.

"That the next setback will happen before I have time to figure my way out of this one."

"If it happens—" Luke starts, "We'll make time to pick up where you left off."

We.

He will be there, Spencer quietly repeats in his mind, two or three times for good measure. He tests the feeling of it under his breath, quietly enough for only himself to hear, and revels in the fact that this is something he believes in with utmost certainty.

Everything is up there.

For Luke crossing his path one day, hearing him and turning up when it mattered, the world will be a little better too.

"But you have quite the reputation so I believe you'll turn it around."

"Well...", Spencer pauses, and with the hushed tone of someone sharing a secret, he leans in and says "I'm something of a magician myself."

"Yeah?" Luke's frame is shaking with mirth. "Tell me about that, Doc!"

We pluck what we want when we want and let go of what we don't.

"I can't deal all of my cards just yet."

"Ooh, I liiike it!" Something foreign stirs in his heart at the sound of Luke’s laughter, and Spencer feels intoxicated with a kind of effortless joy, because it is something he caused. A blossoming warmth that is threatening to overflow and engulf him whole— that saving his life was not a waste.

In truth, when it comes to people and their circumstances, nothing is ever certain, but even if he finds himself paralyzed by everything that came and everything that is to come again, this, here right now: he wants to open that door wide and live to see it through, and maybe people, like love, endure like that.

When Roxy wags her tail in his lap, Spencer presses his palm on the top of her head in silent gratitude. For these few minutes, as the first rays of the rising sun start filtering through the window, existing in the present feels easy.

There’s a shift on his left where he can see Luke place his right hand behind Roxy’s ear, an inch or so from his own. When he smiles, it's radiant and sprinkled in sunlight, a scenery of quiet wonder that lifts the remaining burden from Spencer's shoulders.

Changes, he thinks.

Kid, it isn't always a bad thing.

“I’m sure I have a thing up my sleeve that can surprise you.” Comes the sing-song voice, and Luke— performing a sleight of hand that is as clumsily executed as it is fascinating— produces Spencer's discarded chip out of his left hand, pride painted all over his features.

So Spencer allows the surprise to set in, letting the magic course through the walls of his chest. Then he grasps Luke's hand, and takes the leap.

[masterwords]

I’d love “Five times Character A helped Character B up off the ground, plus one time B helped them up.” for Hotch and Jack.

Well...5.2k words later and we have whatever the hell this is! I love you for sending me this, but you might hate me for what I did with it. (No, I know you won't. I'm kidding.)

No ships. Just Hotch & Jack through the years (with Haley & Jess along the way). Lots of darkness, lots of light. Sweet and sour. lol

Warnings: Haley's death is mentioned, head injury, blood, grief...it's all mostly canon-compliant with 100, Route 66 & Mr. Scratch

(If anyone wants, I'm working through things very very slowly...like a damn turtle...but you can send me a 5+1 prompt if you want, I like that whole list. Please keep it to ships that I normally write for or request it as gen.)

**

(1)

Haley wants a shower. It's all she can think about. Her eyes are tired, it feels like real work to drag them open after she blinks but a shower will definitely fix that. It'll also fix the way her hair falls limp in her face every time she leans forward. She could really go for a wash and a blow dry. Soap feels like a luxury right now.

“Aaron?” She calls for him, and she smiles because he's home. He's actually home. Sure, he's working, but he's in his home office right down the hall and it makes her feel good. “Aaron can you come here please?”

“One minute!” His voice sounds light after a week off. Not really off, but not there, not in those walls, not staring at death. He's on light duty, just doing the grunt work so the team can focus on everything else. It was either that or he didn't take any time off at all...felt like an okay compromise. Earlier, while she prepared a bottle for Jack and threw out a dirty diaper, he rocked Jack and spoke to Gideon on the phone. Things were going well, better than she'd anticipated.

“I need a shower,” she announces the minute he walks into the open room. His eyes roam from her to Jack and back again before he cracks a smile and nods.

“I didn't want to say anything, but you are a little ripe...”

“Oh shut UP.” She extends her hand and he pulls her up, dipping her in a goofy attempt at clunky romance and kisses her. His eyes sparkle and she grins, but then he wrinkles his nose and says something about her needing to brush her teeth before letting her go down the hall. She flips him off as she walks out of the room.

He crouches, listens to the pop and click of his knees. They had only recently begun protesting. “Hey,” he says, staring at Jack curiously. Like he's an alien, something from another planet, and Jack kicks his chubby little legs. He can't help it, he pushes the tip of his finger into the little crease of his thigh, that magical place halfway between hip and knee that only babies seem to have. It's fleeting, like the soft spot on the top of his head that's perfect for kisses, perfect for breathing in that sweet baby smell.

Jack seems content, so he just crouches there and watches him. Those little eyes are blinking dreamy and slow around the room, taking it all in. He's only been here a week, he's so new, and everything is filled with some kind of filmy wonder. And truthfully, he's still a little wary. His big hands feel enormous and scary beside such a small little thing. He never wanted this, fatherhood, but he already can't imagine his life without it. That abrupt change frightens him.

Jack's legs start kicking furiously, he's rubbing his heels together as one knee straightens and then the other. The beginnings of a fit, tiny muscles tensing and relaxing. Soon his arms follow, and then his face scrunches up and he lets out the first wailing cry through his toothless little mouth. He snorts when he cries. It sounds more like an angry cat than a human and makes Hotch's stomach twist. He glances down the hallway and wonders how close Haley is to being done, knowing completely that this was on him.

He's not sure he's qualified for this. The fear settles into his belly.

With shaking hands, he reaches out, one on each side of his tiny little rib cage. He nudges his fingers under and begins to lift him before sliding one hand up behind Jack's head. Quickly, he's being raised to Hotch's chest and cradled there, still kicking his legs, still whimpering but the screams had ceased. Now he was staring up at Hotch's face, brow furrowed like a little mirror image of his father's thinking face, and Hotch smiles. It's not so scary now.

When Haley finishes, her entire countenance is brighter. She is smiling and her hair is fresh and the color of golden autumn straw. “Did he make a fuss?”

Hotch smiles, rocking Jack who is now sleeping against his forearm, one leg dangling over his wrist. His little toes twitch and Hotch bounces a little, just to keep him asleep. He makes it look easy. Haley knows otherwise, she can see the fading fear in his worn honey eyes. “Nothing I can't handle. Super dad to the rescue.” His words are flat but he's trying his best.

Haley's eyebrow quirks up and she can't help but smile. This isn't how she pictured any of it, but right now, somehow...it's better.

(2)

Hotch wonders what it was like to learn how to walk. He's watching Jack pull himself up on the couch, fat little legs unsteady but somehow so sure of himself. So much confidence. Each time he's up, he falls backward and lands with a bouncing little plop on his diaper. Padded falls. There is so much trust there. Jack will crane his neck backward to make sure Hotch is still there, eyes locking briefly, and then he's climbing again. It never seems to phase him when he falls on his butt again.

And again.

And again.

He never stops. Hotch shifts where he's sitting, stretches his legs out. His knees ache from sitting cross-legged too long. His feet are asleep.

And then it happens. Jack turns around to look at him, cracks this tiny little smile, and stands. But this time, his hands come free from their hold on the couch and he doesn't fall. His knees are locked and he's just...standing there. The way his eyes light up makes Hotch's heart come to a stop. He's afraid to move, he feels electric. One shift in the atmosphere might ruin it all so he doesn't even breathe.

Jack's toes twitch and scrunch up beneath him and he looks down, breaking the spell. Down he goes, thump, right on his butt. Hotch lets out the breath he was holding and waits for it. But there is no cry, he just sits there stunned at his accomplishment. Hotch finishes his coffee and rushes to work.

This becomes their morning routine. Every day, Haley showers and he sips his coffee on the floor with Jack. Just sitting there while it steams beside him, and Jack tries and fails over and over. He wonders if his mother remembers how long it took him to take a step.

He could ask her, but dredging up those memories feels like a minefield.

He was never as precocious as Jack, he knows that. His father had always called him slowpoke, like it was affectionate. “C'mere slowpoke,” he'd say with a smile, with a frown, all the time. For a while Hotch wondered if that wasn't his name. Slowpoke Hotchner, even his mother would say it. And he did, he walked slower, he did things slower. He was methodical and quiet, shy to a fault. He gave things more time and thought than anyone deemed necessary. He'd overheard his parents talking one night while he brushed his teeth, and his father said he might be “touched”...he didn't know what that meant but it sounded bad. When he asked his mother later what it meant, she only smiled her sad smile and said not to worry about it.

That made it worse. But the next time he heard it, he understood. “Is that boy touched in the head?!” It had come after he'd knocked a glass on the floor. He knew now to associate that with bad. Stupid. Slowpoke.

But Jack, he's not a slowpoke. He's careful. His eyes study the ground, the couch, his father behind him and now he stands. Days later, he just stands there swaying...and then his foot slides forward. Just one and it jerks his body enough that he falls, but his face...Hotch can't believe the exhilaration on his features.

“Haley!” he cries out, like something magical is about to happen and he can't imagine she's going to miss it. She rushes in, panting, her hair still half in curlers...and Jack crawls along the floor to his pacifier and grabs it, smushes it in his mouth, and lays down. His eyes are sleepy, he's done whatever he's going to do and that's it. Ready for his morning nap. It isn't a let down though, they can both feel it coming.

The next morning, they do it again. Only this time Jack's foot slides a little further and he looks...well he looks so thrilled, until his body careens to the side and he slams against the floor with his full force. He doesn't know enough to try and catch his fall and Hotch knows instinctively that Jack expected his hands to be there...but they weren't. They're both crushed in different ways, and when Jack screams, Hotch stretches his arms out and pulls the crying almost-toddler into his arms. He cradles him there, one large hand splayed against the back of Jack's head that has just made unfortunate contact with the floor, and he feels the hot sting of tears too. They're both crying. “I know buddy, I know. I'm so sorry...”

Jack takes his first steps when Hotch is on a case, halfway across the country. After all those mornings, he misses it.

Haley sends him a grainy little cell phone video, and he's absurdly happy in spite of missing those first real steps. He was there for the building. He doesn't show anyone at work because he can't imagine them caring that much, but he desperately wants to shout it from the rooftops.

(3)

“Mommy and I, we're going to do things a little different now.” That was what he said, because he didn't know what else to say. How does he look his child in the eye and say he's failed? Well, he has. And maybe that's what he's saying in his own cowardly way.

Jack doesn't cry. “You still love mommy?” he asks, and Hotch can't help nodding. He doesn't even think about it. What a silly question. He loves Haley to the ends of the earth, but he no longer serves a purpose in her life except to make it harder. “You still love me?”

“Always,” he says, his voice thick with tears. It's the first time he's cried over Haley leaving, over her filing for divorce. This was supposed to be forever, didn't she remember the vows? But, as Jessica would argue over coffee a week later, didn't he remember his vows? To love, honor and cherish...yeah he loved her, but what about the other parts? Things get lost along the way, he figures. There are no saints here, only sinners.

“It's okay daddy. Don't cry.”

In Jack's simplistic way, he puts a band-aid on the pain. Hotch has to go, his team is on a case and he needs to be there. They're waiting on him. But his son is sitting on the floor in a pile of legos and right outside the door Haley's listening to make sure he doesn't say anything untoward. Nothing to spin this, or her, in a negative light. She knows he won't, but she's hurting and she's wound up. He doesn't say a thing.

And yet she can't help but think about the man who used to compromise. The man who tried to give his entire self to her and their life when he had time, but now...now he doesn't make the time to even try. A shift happened and she knew without a doubt that it would get worse, and wasn't it better to cut and run while they still had a chance at making diamonds from the dust? She was doing this for all of them and she hoped that someday he would see that.

He bends over and lifts Jack into his arms, hugging him close. His back protests the weight of the child, he's getting so big and this is a dead lift. “Daddy has to go now,” he whispers. “I'll see you soon. Take care of mommy, okay?”

“Okay daddy.”

(4)

The house is quiet. It's eerie, there are so many people and yet...he can't hear any of them. Feet falling on once plush carpet, now trodden and blood stained. Shattered glass everywhere, in his hair, at his feet. Blurred faces, familiar but far away, he's in a world of his own. And then he wakes up and he knows that he's been dreaming again.

He's left only with loneliness and regret. His shoulders ache as he pulls his jacket on and he wonders why he's doing this at all. No one wants him there. He doesn't want him there.

But he shows up and he gives his speech and he honors her better in death than he did in life, of that he's certain now.

He visits her graveside, stares at the marker with her name written in block letters by someone who never met her in life. There will be a beautifully engraved headstone soon, but not yet. These things don't just happen overnight, and no one expects to make a marble headstone for a young woman in her prime.

The day it's placed, he takes off of work. Tells Dave he's got to take care of some things and right now everything is so fresh and they're worried enough about him that no one questions him. Derek is glad to take the reigns, attend budget meetings, do whatever he has to. Hotch folds peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in wax paper and shoves them into little paper lunch sacks with mandarin oranges and Capri Suns. Jack's favorite lunch.

They sit by her headstone with a bouquet of flowers handpicked by Jack and play a game of Go Fish. Jack is so little he doesn't really understand why they're eating lunch in the weird park with no playground, but he watches his father eating the sandwich curiously slow, like it's making him sick to put the food into his mouth. Truthfully, it is. He hasn't eaten a full meal in weeks. But he's got to start doing better for Jack, so he does.

One sticky bite at a time. Slowly, eyes barely focused on what he's doing, he pokes the straw into their Capri Suns and watches Jack slurp his happily.

It's apple juice. He likes all the flavors fine, but apple is his favorite.

“Daddy, can mommy hear us?”

The question catches him off guard and he clears his throat, setting down what's left of his sandwich. He thought he'd eaten a lot but really he's barely touched it. His stomach cramps. “I like to think so.”

“Can I talk to her by myself?”

Hotch closes his eyes and nods before pushing up to his feet. His knees protest angrily, he's still stiff and sore weeks after his battle with Foyet, and he offers Jack a small smile. “I'll take a little walk, okay buddy? You talk to mommy all you want.”

Jack beams, and Hotch walks away slowly. He keeps his eye on Jack who spreads the blanket on the little patch of marble beneath the headstone and lays himself down there. Curls up on his side like he would in his bed, and Hotch doesn't see any further movement. He wanders around the little path, watching the headstones wind around him like baby teeth speckling the field. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Jack, until finally he thinks it's been long enough and comes slowly back to their picnic.

Jack is asleep with his hand just beneath her name. He looks so peaceful.

Hotch sits and finishes his sandwich, just him and his tears, before he packs everything up and lifts Jack's sleeping body into his arms.

At home, they nap in his bed and they both sleep well into the evening. He doesn't dream of the house, of the glass, of her body. He doesn't dream at all, and for that he's grateful.

(5)

The hospital room was noisy at first. All day, people in and out. Penelope had stayed to visit with Jessica long past the time she was needed, and Hotch just slept through all of it. He had wanted to stay awake, it just wasn't possible. Tiny droplets on a glass pond, ripples in the bag and then a hissing sound before a dose would snake its way through the tubing and into his waiting vein. Over and over, time irrelevant except when the pain crept through and then he would watch and wait again. How many times he had no idea, but those last few minutes before another dose were his only lucid spells in his bone deep exhaustion.

They'd fixed him, but he didn't feel much better.

The team came through, trickled one by one after getting off the jet. First Derek who had been silently on edge the entire time and snapping at people a little more than necessary. He didn't stay long, just enough to see him lying there asleep. JJ and Spencer hung around for a few minutes in the hopes that he would wake, but they were exhausted so they wrote a silly little note for him on the whiteboard beside his current nurse's name and left. Dave stayed the longest, made himself a cup of waiting room coffee and visited with Jessica.

Jessica. The only constant. She'd come with Jack and hadn't left. She was just biding her time until she could load him in her little Subaru and drive him home.

While all of this happened, Jack sat curled up on the floor beneath the doctor's desk with a book. For the longest time, Hotch forgot he was even there. He forgot a lot of things.

“I'm starving,” Jess announced, seeing the weary look in Hotch's eyes. He'd woken midway through her conversation with Dave and now he was holding onto being awake so desperately for Dave's sake that he looked peaky and pinched. She couldn't let it continue, he needed to sleep. “Dave, would you like to have dinner with me? I hear the cafeteria is featuring Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes tonight. My treat.”

Dave isn't keen on anything she said, but he also knows what she's doing. He's being asked to leave in a way that Hotch won't argue with and he's more than a little impressed with her skillful mastery of his reactions. She presses a kiss to Hotch's clammy forehead and smiles.

“Sleep, you.”

He hums in response and after whispering a brief goodbye to Dave, his eyes drift shut. He's nearly engulfed in the black pool of dreams when he hears a faint rustling, like pages turning, and then a sniffle. It takes him a full minute to realize what it is, that Jess has left Jack in the room with him. He licks his dry lips and tries to speak but his mouth won't work, his vocal chords are a desert and the arid wind that blows through them carries no tune. He's out of breath after two attempts, his body failing him so completely.

And still, he doesn't know what possessed him, but he shifts in the bed and slides his legs over the edge. He's not supposed to get up, not on his own, but here he is planting his bare feet on the cold floor. One and then two, he wiggles his toes to life and focuses himself in order to push up and away from the bed. It takes more effort than he really has in order to achieve it, and for a moment he thinks he's going to fall but some deep reserve of strength (another page flipped) guides his feet into motion. One large hand splayed against his midsection, its gaping wound still fresh and barely stitched together (another page flipped), his other hand firmly against the bed, he makes his way toward Jack. Just a few steps, not even far enough to tangle his cords or bring up the alarms. (Another page flipped. This time it's more hesitant.)

“Jack?” His voice barely works, like a gentle breeze through reeds in the summer and Jack peeks up at his father from beneath the desk. He looks too sad, too grown, and Hotch tries to force a weary smile. Tries to conjure up the images of that newborn baby, that toddler just learning to walk, the days when Jack looked at him with wonder instead of fear and sadness. “Come out of there, please?”

Jack stares at him and shrugs before looking back down at his book. He's feigning disinterest, protecting himself. Hotch feels his chest constrict painfully and the heart monitor speeds up. “Jack?” He extends his hand to the boy who won't even look at him now. A large tear lands with a plop right on the page he's looking at, soaking in and spreading over the tiny black print. And then another. “Jack, please.”

Jack finally give in and takes his hand, and Hotch pulls him upright. It hurts his stomach and the instant pain makes the heart monitor jump again, but he pays it little mind because he's about to make it worse. Jack looks up at him and Hotch can't help it, he sees Haley there for a moment, when she was innocent, when she still looked at him like he could move mountains and all she wanted was to stand beside him while he did it. Back when he hadn't taken all of her joy and all of her wonder, before he made her choose between him and happiness. There was a time those two were synonymous, he was one with her happiness, and somewhere they separated. But for Jack, there was still that spark, faded as it were.

He pulls Jack against him, grunts when Jack hugs him a little too tight. He holds his breath and sees stars, splotches of white coursing over his vision but he doesn't ask Jack to stop. He would rather pass out than make Jack step back. “Dad,” Jack whispers. “Are you gonna die?”

Hotch can't find his breath. He's barely standing and is glad for Jessica's sudden intrusion. He doesn't want to hear that question, let alone answer it. “Aaron!” she exclaims, rushing toward the two of them standing there. “You aren't supposed to be up...god, you could have fallen...what were you thinking?”

The look on his face, the exhaustion in his eyes, Jack with his face buried in Hotch's belly tells her all she needs to know and she nods. They don't have to say it. “Come on, back to bed you. I brought you some juice.”

(6)

There is an air of some strange electricity in the apartment. He's been wandering between these walls for two days now, restless. Jack is at school, and then he does his homework at Jessica's house before coming home. Just to give Hotch some time to himself, maybe, he's not really sure. He's got a concussion, it's a bad one this time, but he suspects there's more to it. Some aftershock of Peter Lewis' cocktail that she knows about...Dave called her, he knows it. Keeping her in the loop. But she leaves Jack there overnight so she must not be too scared of him or what he can do.

He's harmless, though, he's fairly certain. Can barely hold his head up for longer than a few minutes at a time before the intense throbbing starts in his temples like a university marching band during the homecoming game. This concussion hurts worse than some in the past. Some of it, he thinks, must be because of the filmy memories that Peter Lewis put there...memories he would carry forever...memories of things that never happened. He dreams of Derek's blood on his cheek, and for ten minutes after he holds his phone with trembling hands wondering whether he should call or text.

Again.

Just to make sure.

But he clicks into his last texts from Derek and they're only from earlier that day. Derek checking up on him.

How do you feel?

Better, thanks.

Short and sweet, no follow up, and he knows part of it is Derek making sure that he knows what he saw wasn't real. It's not a fun game and he's just wishing for his moments of being lucid to turn into hours to turn into days and to forget these false memories entirely.

Jessica drops Jack off just after she feeds him dinner, and she brings Hotch a plate made just for him. Macaroni and cheese. Meatloaf. Green beans. Jessica cooks like her mom, like all the moms he grew up with. She's never stopped envisioning the food groups set out sectioned off on a plate. If all of them are eating together, she'll even butter a plate of bread for the middle of the table and serve everyone a glass of milk. She's a trip and he mocks her endlessly for it.

“I am going to watch you eat,” she threatens, unwrapping the wobbly plastic after heating the plate in the microwave. It's steaming and he realizes he hasn't eaten anything at all that day.

She leaves when she's convinced herself he means to eat. A few green beans, a bite of macaroni and she's satisfied that he's going to eat it. Sometimes she has too much faith in him. Then it's just he and Jack while he puts the plate into the fridge to eat later. He's just not hungry. He's not allowed to watch TV yet, or read books, nothing too taxing. Even those few seconds on his phone checking his texts are more than he's supposed to do until his doctor clears him, so he lays on the couch with his eyes closed beneath a cool wash cloth while Jack watches a show. It's not even tempting for him to try and watch.

They do fine until the apartment is quiet, until it's all dark. That's when the memories start to flicker to life like old black and white film. Everything is disjointed, he hears sounds and feels things that never happened and then Derek's blood is on his face warm and fresh. He wakes with a start and stifles the cry, pretends it didn't happen. He can't wake Jack.

He's thirsty. Slowly, he wills his aching body out of the bed and his legs decide to give out. Right there beside his bed like a toddler's first failed steps. His head spins dangerously and the earth is rocking beneath him. He came down hard on his knees and now they're throbbing in time with his head.

Some part of him thinks it's so bizarre that he questions whether he's still in the dream, whether this is real. The world feels on a delay, like he's watching things happen a moment before they actually do. He's living in the future and the past, his present is nothing but mist.

He's on the floor. He knows he's on the floor, but the room keeps changing. Shifting around him.

Blinking changes it every time.

He tries and fails to get up to his feet. There is darkness creeping toward him, threatening to swallow him, and he tries again to get up but his knees just won't do what they're told.

Footsteps, small and hesitant, creep down the hallway. A voice far away. He can't trust his senses. Hasn't been able to for days now but it's worse at night, worse after sleep.

“Dad?”

He sucks in a breath and holds perfectly still. He's sitting beside his bed, his back to the mattress, facing the door. His knees are pulled to his chest like a child, fingers rubbing at the sore places he landed on absentmindedly, like it'll help. Like that's the problem. And there is Jack looking small but also somehow impossibly grown. “Dad are you okay?”

He mumbles something that he knows is incoherent and scares Jack because suddenly Jack's hand is slamming down on his cell phone and he's pressing a button. It's not 911, it's Jess.

“Aunt Jessica? Something's wrong with dad...”

He blinks owlishly up at Jack and tries to listen to the conversation, he keeps the volume on his phone up so loud as his hearing gets worse. Nothing breaks through the muffled chaos in his head though, but soon Jack is rushing out of the room and coming back with something shiny and silver in his hand. For a split second Hotch cowers, it's a gun his mind tells him it's a gun. Where would Jack get that? He panics, and then Jack extends it to him and he blinks again.

Capri Sun. It's apple juice in a tiny little foil pouch. He takes it warily and with trembling hands fumbles at the little yellow straw, trying to break it free. Yeah, this is going to help...he hasn't eaten more than a few bites of food in days, this is going to help.

But he can't get to the straw, his fingers won't work. Jack drops to his knees with the phone still in his hand and he trades his dad. Gives him the phone, takes the drink pouch. Hotch doesn't do anything with the phone, though, he knows already that Jess is on her way so he watches Jack with fascination instead. Steady hands pulling the glue apart and opening the tiny yellow straw, poking it through the foil and into the pouch just the right way. He wonders how many times in their lives he's done this simple task for Jack, remembers the first time Jack tried it on his own and jammed the sharp end of the straw all the way through the pouch spilling juice everywhere. All of this goes through his mind and he smiles because those memories are all absolutely real.

He sips the cold juice, feels the way the sugar coats his tongue and instantly he feels revived. And stupid, so stupid, letting his blood sugar drop so low that he scares his son.

“I'm sorry, Jack,” he whispers and the words come out correctly. Jack stands and reaches out his hand, helping Hotch to his feet and onto his bed so he can finish his juice more comfortably. Jack is big enough to help him up. His hand is engulfed in Hotch's but he's strong, he's growing, soon his hand won't disappear like that inside of his father's. He used to cradle Jack's entire little body there, and now his hand just barely fits. Time is a thief.

“Aunt Jess will be here soon,” Jack says and Hotch nods. He knows. He'll have more apologizing to do, as always, but for the first time in days Hotch knows that no matter what tricks are being played on him, this has to be real.

Peter Lewis dealt in fear and in pain. He could never conjure a vision so serene, so inherently good as Jack and this Capri Sun.

[onlyfreds]

Winter at the Burrow | F.W.

Title: Winter at the Burrow

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: In a cold winter night at the Burrow, you decided to pick up a random sweater in your room.

Even though you were gathered around the fireplace, you were still shivering in the frigid air.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Ginny asked, giving you a slightly concerned look.

You scooted a bit closer to the fireplace, “Yeah. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you shivering? Do you need Fred to warm you up?” Hermione teased with a small smile.

You threw a pillow at her, causing Ginny and Hermione to start laughing hysterically.

“You know what,” You said, standing up, “I’ll be right back – I’ll just get a sweater.”

“You feeling cold princess?” Fred asked from the couch.

You nodded, “Yeah, I was just going to get a sweater.”

“How about I warm you up instead?” He suggested, winking at you.

A blush suddenly made its way up to your cheeks and before you could even react, Molly smacked him at the back of the head with the dishtowel she was holding,

“Frederick Gideon Weasley! Where are your manners?”

While the others were surely going to die from laughing, you ran up to your shared room with the girls and grabbed the sweater that rested on your sleeping place.

Putting it on, you felt the warmth spreading all over your body and seeping through your veins.

Heaving a small and satisfied sigh, you breathed in a familiar scent – it was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You headed back down to the living room, seeing Ginny nudge Hermione while nodding towards you.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, furrowing your brows

The youngest Weasley and the bushy haired female tried to stifle a giggle as they shook their head, “Nothing.”

Playfully squinting at the two of them, you shrugged it off – sitting down and rejoining the conversation.

-

The clock had struck midnight, almost everyone had already retired to bed but you were practically still brimming with energy.

Trying to lull yourself to sleep with a good old book, your feet were propped up on the armrest of the couch.

You were so indulged into the novel, that you didn’t notice your boyfriend coming into the room.

He leaned against the doorframe, admiring you from afar – then he suddenly spoke up,

“Is that my sweater? You look so cute.”

You jumped slightly before relaxing the moment you saw him, looking down at the sweater that you wore – it was indeed his. That explained the smell and the look Ginny and Hermione gave you.

Smiling at him, you said, “I just borrowed it.”

Fred laughed, moving your legs so he could sit down next to you, “Yeah. You borrowed it 5 months ago and didn’t return it. Doesn’t that count as stealing?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, “I think I prefer the term permanently borrowing.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes at you, “You’re lucky that I love you and that you look adorable drowning in my sweater.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @benny-boukendan @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @daedreamss @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @lunylovelovegood @thefallengodesse @cupids-crystals @madelineorionswan @holyheadharpies99 (Send a Message/Ask if you want to be added!)

[crybaby-tarnished]

A Preposal and a Wedding - The End of Communion Verse

Rennala sat like nothing had happened, the three all battle worn and bewildered by what had transpired.

Gideon moved his hand, looking at his palm. After all these decades he finally had his own Great Rune… And with it he could be stronger, younger, whatever he desired. And between him and Fyra, that made four.

Fyra herself looked at him, her hands suddenly wringing together, the metal of her gauntlets scraping. She spoke before she could really think on what to say.

“Before you are reborn,” She blurted, “I want to ask you something.”

Gideon and Ensha both looked at her.

“Marry me!”

That was not a question. She almost demanded it. Rather loudly too.

Gideon looked at her silently. After a few agonizingly long seconds, he chuckled, then laughed. Fyra’s face got hot, and she could not understand why he would be laughing at her. Not until he removed his helmet, showing the smile on his face as he began reaching into a sack at his hip. 

He removed his hand, and clutched between his armored fingers was a ring.

“I had Seraph make two of these… I was going to ask you the same, But I never seemed to find the right moment-”

Her heart was racing and her stomach flipping. She wanted to laugh at the situation too, but she could only think of her answer to his non-question. “Yes!” Fyra blurted, face even redder.

Gideon laughed again. “I am the one who should be saying yes. You asked me.” Still he took her hand, pulled her gauntlet off, and slowly, gently, put the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, the stone seeming to glow. It was a thin band that had the stone embedded into the metal so it could be worn easily under gloves or gauntlets. She kept herself from crying, giving a lopsided shaky smile in her efforts.

He looked up at her, gaze soft. “Yes… I will marry you, but only if you marry this old fool, too.”

“Yes.” Fyra repeated. She took the other ring as Gideon offered it, swooping in to embrace him as tightly as she could, kissing him gently, “Yes, yes I will marry you. I’d marry you a thousand times and kiss you a thousand more.”

As if to prove it, she kissed him again.

“Am I to be… The best man?” Ensha inquired, and Gideon pulled away from the kiss, now his turn to be red.

“Of course. I can think of no better title to give you, old friend.”

“Ah… Love.” Rennala spoke softly, drawing them to look at her as she clutched her egg, “I know love… My beloved egg bequeathed to me by he…”

“We can celebrate and talk more elsewhere… It seems… Cruel to do this infront of her.” Fyra said sheepishly, hands sliding down Gideon’s chest before stepping away from him, “Go on then… Then I will put this ring on you after.”

“Not now?” Gideon looked confused.

“You might gain some weight… It could hurt you.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep calming breath. “Just don’t change too much on me, Okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.” Gideon kissed her forehead, then turned to face the large woman before him.

It was time to shave a few years off.

And after it was all done, well, they simply could not wait, and the Church of Vows was so close. It was only natural that the moment Fyra put the ring on Gideon’s finger that they went to Miriel to make it official.

It wasn’t like they needed anyone else there. Fyra had Melina, Gideon had Ensha. That was enough to bind them under the laws of the Golden Order.

Fyra had put flowers in her hair and the nicest dress she could get on such short notice, Gideon just wore his armor, which no longer fit so loosely and felt much lighter, even though the armor was no different then it was before.

He was the one who was different.

It was nothing like what Fyra had fantasized about. It was small, quiet. No music, just the sounds of bugs buzzing, the wind through the ruins of the church, and of course Miriel’s gentle voice.

Melina watched silently, a smile on her face. She had not been sure she would ever see this moment. The way the two had spoken, it had seemed like they would wait until after it was all done.

If they had… 

But she was here, watching and seeing with her own eyes what made the world worth saving. Love, hope, joy… So many good things that Melina held so very dear.

It was why she and Torrent picked Fyra, for she too held those things so sacred.

A shame she would not see the life her Tarnished would live once her task was done. Would she do as Miquella asked and bring an end to Marika, or would Fyra perhaps go with what she had originally intended?

Marika, still the Queen Eternal, Fyra her Elden Lord, and Gideon… Well he would have a place. Fyra would make one for him.

“I will… Take care of her.” Ensha assured quietly to her.

“I thank you, Ensha.”

Ensha only nodded. A pity they thought, that the little bug could not be here… Ah but Geralt might have made a mess, so perhaps it was better this way.

Both returned their focus on what was, at the moment, important.

“Under the order of the Erdtree, and the fate of the Moon, with vows stronger than iron… I bless you both as man and wife.” Miriel declared, slowly blinking, “May your love be eternal and heal all wounds. Past, Present and Future… You may kiss.”

Fyra took Gideon’s helmet in her trembling hands, and lifted it off his head. Even now, two decades younger, he looked like he had gotten no sleep, that he didn’t eat enough, that he had the weight of centuries on him… 

But she wouldn’t have him any other way.

She brushed his hair back into place, biting her lip nervously for a few seconds before jumping into his arms, her own wrapping around his neck as she kissed him. Gideon laughed against her lips, and he kissed her back.

Whatever choice was made… Whatever ending they chose, be it as Elden Lord or a quiet life in Jarburg… At least they had each other.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Big Game: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"See if you can get the coroner out here right away," Faraday says to a passing officer.

"I see the same energy here, Gideon. It's just one person."

"Well, he called again. This time it was different. Only one of them spoke," Faraday sighs.

"Which one?"

"Pretty sure it was Raphael. I wrote down what he said, and I got a recording being brought out here. It took almost eleven minutes to respond. We only had but the one unit close."

"Could the unsub know that?" you ask.

"The lack of police presence out here has gotten some local media attention recently. Now, the 911 call wasn't the only thing that was different. This particular scene is weird in another way. The male victim, upstairs, has his throat cut."

"Why is that weird?" Gideon asks as Faraday leads you into the house.

"He doesn't live here. He's a local handyman."

"Who lives here?"

"The Douglas'. I just talked to Mr. Douglas a little while ago. He's on his way back from a business meeting down state. According to him, he wasn't having any handy work done on the house, and his wife was supposed to be home."

"But she's not now?"

"She seems to be missing," he sighs. "But her car, keys, wallet, and purse are here. I got a description on the field."

"So, did you copy down what the caller said?" Gideon wonders.

"Yeah." Faraday takes out his notebook so he can read the message. "Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and then that commit adultery."

"So, adultery is the sin, but they kill him and not her. They abduct her. Why?"

"You think she's still alive?" Faraday asks.

"We never assume otherwise unless there is evidence," you answer.

"I will cast her into a bed," Gideon repeats what the detective said. "It's from Revelation again. It's about Jezebel. She was an adulterer, whore, and false prophetess. She's the most reviled woman in the bible."

"The unsub knew she was having an affair. There had to have been a laptop here."

"Yeah, upstairs."

You, Spencer, Derek, and Emily all go upstairs to examine the crime scene and the bodies. As soon as you enter the bedroom, you notice the laptop on the other end of the room facing the crime. You know the unsub is watching, so you do your best not to pay any attention to it.

"Don't look now, but we're on candid camera," Derek comments.

"Yep," Emily nods.

You walk over to the man that's on the bed, slapping on some gloves so you can touch him without leaving your DNA behind. With your gloved hand, you run your fingers over the gash on his throat. This room is covered with the same energy that the Kyle's house had. This unsub is working quickly, and it's getting harder to catch up to him. It's hard to paint a clear picture of what happened here because there are three different personalities that want to be the dominant one.

With a shake of your head, you snap off your glive, throw it away, and head back downstairs with Derek and Emily.

"There's a laptop set up on the dresser upstairs with a pretty good view of the room," Derek says to Hotch.

"Garcia's trying to trace the camera's feed back to its destination," Emily adds.

Hotch motions for all three of you to follow him outside, and you go without question.

"What were you telling Gideon about this being one unsub?" Hotch asks you.

"You know I see people with their auras and their energies, well, males have a base color of red, females are blue, and children are yellow. Now, while all men have red energies, there are different hues and tints for each person based on their personalities, their thoughts, and their actions. The energy I've been seeing at these crime scenes are one base color, one energy, but there are two energies with different tints stemming from the base. One man, but three different personalities. The same thing shows for me and Emily. Two different energies because we have two different personalities."

"Okay, let's work this out. What does the new behavior tell us?"

"That the personality known as Raphael was alone this time? Maybe he was dominant this entire time."

"Not if he's psychotic. He wouldn't be capable of operating this efficiently. Someone was here who could control himself. Make sure no evidence was left behind."

"The second personality then. At the first crime, Personality One called the police, right? This time it was raphael. Why? It's like the phone call is necessary. It's part of the signature."

"Have we ever seen this in case history?" Hotch asks.

"A mixture of extreme psychosis in a controlled individual? No. One of the most common indicators of extreme psychosis is solitude."

"They don't exactly play well with others."

Gideon walks out of the house and joins you four.

"Was Garcia able to find anything on a Raphael in the records?"

"Not yet," Derek answers.

"So, why is he naming himself? Twice? Certainly not worried about us getting that name. In fact, he wants us to know it."

"Raphael doesn't exist. He's one of the four archangels. This unsub is suffering from a delusion that he's actually an archangel. I'm not sure who the third voice is supposed to be, but it has to be of some significance to him.

"Getting back to this case, if Mrs. Douglas is Jezebel, there is an especially unpleasant death in her future," Hotch determines.

You believe you got everything from this crime scene as you possibly can, so you all head back to the police station where you can discuss this further without the fear that the unsub is watching you through the computers he's hacked his way in.

"Garcia's running voice analysis on the first 911 call to see if there are actually two voices. She's also going to peel the third voice off the videotape and see if that gets anything. We believe you, Y/N, but this is something she's gotta do."

"I know," you nod.

"We should have a copy of that latest call brought over here within the hour," Faraday says.

"Thanks."

"Hotchner," the police captain says, "your tech girl is on the phone."

Hotch takes the phone from Franks and presses the speaker button so that everyone can hear her.

"Jeez, don't you people answer your cell phones anymore?"

"We were driving back to Atlanta through the countryside. Spotty cell signal."

"If you think that first video went viral fast, the second one's going through the stratosphere."

"There's a second video?" you gasp.

"Yeah, there's a new video from our psycho. I'm downloading it myself right now. Some of these upload sites get more than a million hits a day."

"Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

"Right."

She hangs up to do her thing, and JJ walks in with files in her hands but a frown on her face.

"So, Frank is right. None of the open knife cases he has fits here."

"Tell me there's a but," Hotch sighs.

"Well, I looked at it a different way. I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago, there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyle's house."

"A prowler?" you ask and head over to her.

"The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. When he went back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the state police got there, the prowler was gone."

"Only one man?"

"Apparently."

"Was the witness able to describe him?" Spencer asks having heard this from where he was seated.

"If he did, it's not in this case file."

"Is there a name and address for the witness?" Hotch asks.

"Tobias Hankle. He lives about an hour from here."

"Y/N, I want you and Reid to go see if you can't get anything from him. It's a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description."

"You got it. Come on, Spencer."

You grab the keys to one of the unmarked police cars and head out with Spencer. Like Hotch stated earlier, the cell signal is shit. You won't be able to get in touch with the team even if you wanted to. You're not too worried about it because you're only going to talk to tobias. It's not like you're going to be put in danger... right?

You pull into the long driveway that leads to Tobias' house, and the feeling you get when you see the house is pure terror. You're lucky you're able to park the car and get out with how scared you feel. The same red energy you saw at the two crime scenes is all over this property.

"Spencer, I think we fucked up," you say with a shaky voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This is our unsub."

"What? How do you know?"

"This property is covered with the same red energy I've been seeing at the crime scenes."

"Do you want to turn back? Head back to the police station?"

"No, as long as we don't tip him off, we should be fine. I want to see what we can get out of him."

You two walk up to the front door and you knock, and a few seconds later, Tobias Hankel answers the door. Yep, this is your unsub.

"Hi, Mr. Hankel?"

"Um, yeah?"

"We're with the FBI. I'm agent Y/N and this is agent Reid."

"FBI?" he asks, a little scared.

He must have been Personality One that called the police the first time.

"May we come in?" you ask.

"Um, I'm sorry, I don't let anyone in the house."

"Actually, I, uh, really have to, you know, go?"

"You do?" you ask in shock.

"For thirty minutes."

"Why didn't you say anything in the car? I would have stopped."

Spencer shrugs and turns to Tobias who is scared out of his mind.

"Uh, do you mind?"

"I'm sorry. My father doesn't like it."

"Your father?" You're, like, thirty."

"At what age can one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?" Tobias says, a little more confident than before.

He's getting angry, and you need to calm him before it gets out of hand.

"You witnessed something a few months ago that might be very helpful to us."

"I did?"

"You saw someone go over a wall into a yard. You're the one who called the police."

"Me?"

"You didn't?"

"No, sorry," he shakes his head.

"Is there another Tobias Hankel that lives here?"

"Just me and my father, Charles."

"There's a report on file that lists you as calling 911. You were walking a dog," you state.

"No, that's wrong, I don't have a dog."

This isn't going anywhere, and you need to go now if you value your lives.

"Okay, sorry to bother you, sir." He quickly closes the door on you two, and you turn to Spencer with a scared look. "Why is he lying to us? Why bother calling the police if you're just going to pretend you didn't?"

"To gauge the response time," Spencer gasps. "If you were going to kill somebody, but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?"

"How long it takes them to get there," you answer.

"You're completely right! He's the unsub!"

Spencer takes off to the side of the house where there are windows. You quickly follow behind and peek inside one of the windows, gasping when you see that Tobias has a set up with a ton of computers, all with live video feed to tell him who is sinning and who isn't. Tobias comes around the corner and sees you looking in, his eyes widening in fear that he's been caught. He immediately takes off to the back of the property where there is a large barn.

"He's in the barn! Come on!"

"Spencer, we should go back and try to contact Hotch," you hiss but follow him.

He takes out his gun, and you take out yours just to be safe.

"Why? We have him. We can bring him in. You cover the front, I'm gonna go around back. Hotch knows we came here. He'll come looking for us. We'll just wait him out."

"No, Spencer, we really shouldn't split up," you try to say, but he runs off without another word.

Go after him! Do not go into that barn!

Your gut is telling you not to split up, to follow him, but you do something you've never done before in your entire life: you ignore it. Spencer seems pretty dead set on waiting out Tobias, and who knows if he could have more victims in here. You let out a shaky breath and open the barn doors with your gun out in front of you.

It's very cold and dark here, but there are slivers of moonlight that are shining through. Still, you use your flashlight that you always carry with you for situations like this. You shine the light to the lower right corner. There are chains and pools of blood everywhere, and the more you light the area, the more you can clearly see who was there.

The woman who was taken from her house, Mrs. Douglas, is dead on the ground with bite marks and chunks taken out of her. You groan and are about to leave when you hear the unmistakable growl of at least four dogs behind you.

Your eyes widen when you realize just how much you fucked up.

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[britishboystm]

Yoga Antics | Fred Weasley 18+

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut 18+ (minors dni!), unprotected vaginal penetration, male masturbation, kissing, swearing, fluff

WC: 2.9k

Summary: Y/N gets into yoga. Now Fred wants to get into Y/N...

A/N: A little something something while y’all wait for the next chapter of TDWM. Enjoy ya horny bastard!

•••

Stress management was something that you had grown to value a great deal in your free time. Even more so when you wound up marrying a Weasley twin.

It wasn’t that you didn’t absolutely adore your husband. You loved him with every fibre of your being. It was true however that sometimes you just needed a moment to yourself to unwind and recuperate, especially when living with such a hectic personality like Fred.

On the hunt for new tactics to tend to your mental health, you came across yoga, a muggle activity that Hermione had been raving about once her and Ron came back from her hometown during the Christmas break. She had said that her mom got her into it and how it made her stress levels drop drastically.

Admitly, you were skeptical at first. The idea of twisting and contorting your limbs to relax your racing mind seemed ridiculous. A simple spell should have been able to do the trick just fine, but alas one did not exist for such a thing, so you were left with not much to work with.

Hoping to persuade you, Hermione handed you a book from across the kitchen table while Ron and the twins laughed about some absolute nonsense in the living room of your home.

“Trust me Y/N. I’m usually a cynic myself about these things, but when I tell you yoga changed my life,”

She quickly glanced over at the boys to make sure their attention was averted elsewhere before leaning in so only you could hear.

“You would not believe the sex I’ve been having. Ever since I started doing yoga, I’ve been able to do things with my body that I could never imagine even in my wildest dreams.” Your eyes expanded instantly upon hearing her saucy confession. It was very unlike Hermione Granger to be so flippant about something as personal as what her and her husband did behind closed doors.

“Hermione!” You squeaked out as you shot your hands up to your flushed cheeks, embarrassed at the thought of your brother in law and best friend/sister in law in any kind of compromising situation. The image was now ingrained into your brain, an image you could easily do without no less.

Hermione lightly giggled but quickly covered it up with a cough when she noticed Ron and the twins look over at the two of you with interest.

“Everything alright ‘mione?” Ron asked, clearly oblivious to the raunchy conversation taking place between the whispering women.

“Nothing, go back to whatever you were doing.” She spoke, pursing her lips to hide a smirk. He gave her a look that read what are you up to over there? but quickly dropped it when he turned back around to continue the conversation he was having with his older brothers.

“I’m serious though, it has been an absolute godsend. I’m sure you and Fred can both get something out of it.” Your cheeks grew an even deeper red at the thought of what all of that might entail.

“Thank you for the advice Hermione. I’ll keep it in mind.” Maybe you would give the book a quick look through, if you were able to find any time during your insanely busy schedule.

“Love, time to head out?” Ron spoke as he stood up from the couch and brought over his finished cup of tea to the sink for washing later.

“Yes, we best be going. Remember what I said Y/N.” She nudged the book further towards you and got up to pull you in for a warm embrace.

“I’ll see you soon.” You spoke, giving her a warm friendly rub on the back before she went over to the door to get her ballet flats on.

“Y/N, always a pleasure.” Ron came over with a dopey smile, opening his arms to give you a big bear hug.

“Bye Ron.” He then headed over to Hermione, giving her his arm to hold on to as she struggled to get on one of her shoes.

“Only thing I’m good for, it seems.” Everyone laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked him the chest playfully.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” She jeers before opening the door.

“Bye!” The couple speak in unison as they head out the door, Fred closing it behind them.

“Well, I best be off too. I think I’ve left poor Angelina with the kids long enough.” George let out a sigh, bracing himself for what he knew he would be coming home to.

“Good luck with that mate.” Fred chuckles as he pats his brother on the shoulder.

“Bye love,” George speaks as he comes in for the usual kiss on each cheek with you.

“Bye George. Tell Angie we say hi.”

“Will do.” And then he makes his way out the door, Fred once again closing it behind him. He then turns around and looks down at you, a sly smirk dancing along his lips.

“Alone at last.” He groans before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Gah! You big idiot, if you drop me I swear to Godric!” You screech out. Fred let’s out a laugh before abruptly bending his knees, pretending to lose his grip on you. Your hand comes in contact with his back with a loud smack.

“I’m serious Fred, don’t do it!” He chuckles again before plopping you down on one of the couches in the living room. He shifts about so he was now straddling your waist. His hair, which he had been growing out, covered his face slightly. You brought your hand up to caress his light stubble ridden cheek.

He sighs out in contentment and flutters his eyes shut, leaning into your touch and kissing the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hi.” You say sweetly with bright sparkling eyes as you begin to twirl his fiery red locks between your delicate fingers.

“Hi.” His soft voice makes your stomach flutter. To this day you still experienced the same excitement you would get when you first started dating Fred back in school.

“Can we have sex?” He asks out of the blue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his request. Ever since you tied the knot, the mystery and suspense your sex life once had began to simmer. Being upfront about both of your wants and needs became a part of the beauty of your marriage. No secrets were kept and no childish games were played. If one of you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.

“Only if you carry me, ‘m tired.” You spoke, going back to playing with his hair.

“Works for me.” His face lit up as he lifts you up off of the couch and carries you bridal style up to your shared bedroom.

You had to admit, Hermione was right.

The morning after that visit, you began to read tidbits of the book she gave you.

Not wanting to answer a billion questions, you kept the material out of your husband's sight. You knew he would become super curious and make you explain everything to him, and having just begun learning yourself, you decided it was best to keep it hidden away. Again, this concept was feorgein to the wizarding world so you couldn’t blame him.

It really did work out perfectly. Once you felt that you had gotten the hang of it, every morning after Fred left for the shop, you would set up in the living room and practice your yoga.

It honestly felt awful at first. Your body was so tight and tense that you had almost given up completely after your first time doing it.

But not wanting to throw in the towel so early, you kept it up until you began noticing a slight change in your body. Little things like being able to touch your toes or go into a deep lunge were gratifying and it almost became a bit of a drug to you. Not to mention it helped you sleep like a baby.

Fred was also starting to notice a difference. Knowing you were tight all over, sex usually consisted of fairly mild positions that didn’t put to much of a strain on your body. But that one random night in which you were suddenly able to bring your legs up to wrap around his neck as he pounded into you set off alarms in his head.

You had done something and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

That was a while ago.

Since then, you had fully converted to a life of zen, and yoga was your remedy to all of the worries that plagued your mind. Mornings were becoming easier and easier to face as Fred would shut the door behind him and you would pull out your yoga blocks and mat.

And this morning began like any other. The sun seeped through your white translucent curtains which made Fred groan in irritation. He hated getting up in the morning.

He turned over to face you and slowly opened his eyes, watching you shift about and slowly begin to wake up yourself.

“What time is it?” You spoke, nuzzling your face into his bare chest.

“7:15.” He was able to croak out in his scruffy morning voice.

“Off to work then?” You asked, finally looking up at him with this innocent and soft look that never failed to make him turn into a puddle of emotions.

“Off to work indeed.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, flopping on to his back to allow himself to wake up more.

“You're going to be late if you don’t get a move on.” He smiled at this before deciding to scoop you up into his arms so you were now laying on your stomach on top of him.

“George can manage for a bit can’t he?” He asked as he moved your crazy morning hair out of your eyes so he could get a better look at you. Your chin rested against his sternum as you rolled your eyes.

“Remember last time you tried to pull that stunt? He threatened to hex you.” Fred winced at the memory.

“Better not then huh?” He grimaces slightly, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Well unless you are willing to have your hair be green for the next year, then yeah I wouldn’t. Now stop stalling and get your arse up!” You say, pinching his hip which makes him arch up slightly underneath your touch.

“If you do that again I may never get out of bed.” His smirk would usually get to you but no one could ever get between you and your yoga sessions. Even Fred Gideon Weasley.

“Nice try Casanova, that isn’t going to work this time,” You lifted the sheets off of both of you and got out of bed to take a shower.

Later that morning, Fred ran over to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before grabbing a orange from the fruit bowl and rushing out the door for work.

You smiled knowingly, waiting for at least a minute before jumping up from your spot on the couch and ran back into your bedroom. Never in your life had you been so excited to wear spandex.

Once your setup was organized, you quickly got into child’s pose, hoping to give your begging joints and muscles a gentle wake up. It felt so good that the groan you emitted covered up the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Fred was back.

He had come from downstairs, having forgotten important paperwork he had to fill out for some possible investors. But the heavy package of documents seemed to have slipped his mind for a second time when he came across your arse stretched out in the bent over position.

His trousers tightened almost instantly and his finger had to come up and tug at his shirt collar that had suddenly become too tight.

Unaware of his presence, you continued your late morning with no care in the world. Feeling satisfied, your body moved up into a downward dog. Your lower legs and ankles gasped out in gratitude as you slowly leaned deeper and deeper into the upside pose.

That’s when you saw him.

Between your legs, you were able to notice a pair of brown dress shoes, one tapping away impatiently. Your eyes went wide and your throat let out a squeak, making you collapse to the floor and quickly turn to look up at your amused and very turned on husband.

“So this is what you’ve been doing when I’m away?” Your cheeks were all flushed, partly from the blood rushing to your face when you were upside down and partly due to Fred looming over you in a dominating stance.

“Fred I-.” You quickly tried to cover your tracks. Explain that it was a stupid thing Hermione told you about and that it didn’t matter.

“Hush love, I’m not mad.” He said through a relaxed chuckle.

“You’re not?”

“How could I? You are so fucking fit babes.” Your cheeks burned stronger and your eyes flitted down to the mat beneath you.

“Hey dove, no need to be shy. I liked what you were doing there. What was it anyway?” He was now crouched in front of you, lightly tracing his thumb against your cheek.

“Yoga, supposed to make you feel less stressed and more flexible.” You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Oh so I have yoga to thank for the amazing shagging we have been having recently then?” His comment made you giggle, making him swoon in return.

“Show me more. I want to watch.” God he knew how to make your stomach twirl. His face was no longer soft, but rather dark and naughty. The lust that was connecting the two of you caused your leggings to dampen. You shifted, now feeling slightly uncomfortable with sitting in your own wetness.

“What, you feeling uncomfy? Here I’ll help.” Before you could respond, he laid you on your back and dragged you towards him along the mat, his hands gripping the back of your thighs.

“Shall I take these off then?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. He was playing a game and he knew he had already won.

“Yes please.” Your voice was breathy and soft. He aggressively grabbed the waistband of your legging and tugged them down your legs.

Once they were in a wet mess somewhere in a corner of the living room, he bent down between your legs to pull you in for a kiss. Your hands went up to his hair and your legs wrapped around his torso, slightly grinding up into him.

His lips detached from yours and he looked down to notice your desperate actions.

“Awe love, you all worked up now?” He was obviously teasing you. Hell if anything, he was more bothered then you were, but he was always better at keeping his emotions below the surface.

“Want you to show me what you were doing again. This time in your undies babes.” You nodded urgently and turned yourself around, going into a cow position.

His heavy breathing and warm palms on your arse cheeks made his presence very much known.

You pushed back slightly, hoping he would get the hint.

“Patient, I’ll deal with you in a minute. Want to see more first.” Gaining some power, you got up and pushed him back, indicating for him to move onto the couch, giving him a front row seat to what would become his favourite show.

You pulled out every suggestive pose in the book. At one point, when you were able to look over at his reaction, his tie had come undone along with some buttons and his hand was fisted around his cock.

He looked heavenly sitting there, one arm draped along the top of the couch and his head thrown back in pure pleasure. He should have been back to work by now but neither one of you cared.

“Fuck, keep it up love.” You wanted his finish, not his hand so you stopped your performance and crawled over to him, kneeling between his spread open legs.

Without speaking a single word, your mouth opened wide, your tounge stretched out in a plea for his cum.

“You want me down your throat darling?” You nodded, eyes shut in patience. His groans increased and your palms began to sweat as anticipation grew all through your body.

But nothing came.

One of your eyes opened in confusion only for you to be met with him coming off of the couch and pushing you back into the mat once more. He stretched your legs open wide and moved your thong to the side. There was no time to adjust as his length rammed into you. Instantly gripping his biceps you let out a cry of submission and pleasure.

“Feel so nice and warm. Want you nice and wide for me when I finish yeah? Are you going to finish with me little dove?” You could only let out a wail of acceptance as you sobbed.

His drilling quickened and quickened until you both finally were able to come as one, something you had yet to achieve in your relationship. He let out a surprised laugh at the accomplishment before collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

“Thank Merlin for yoga.” He spoke through heavy breaths.

[iliumheightnights]

I See You | Din Djarin x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x male!reader Summary: Din returns to his husband after Grogu’s departure.

WARNING: This has spoilers for the finale of season 2 of the Mandalorian! You have been warned.

…

As the Slave One flew towards the landing pad, Din could only think about the Razor Crest and how it felt to land her right there knowing he was home. He wouldn’t be doing that anymore, he wouldn’t be able to. The Razor Crest was gone...and so was Grogu.

Din tried not to think of it. The Razor Crest being gone hurt him greatly, he had that ship for years. Pretty much since he went out to become a bounty hunter. It was part of his armor, part of him...and now that part was gone.

Of course, the Razor Crest wasn’t the only thing that was gone. Along with his ship, Grogu was gone as well. The little womp rat stole his heart and had taken it with him. He had tried his best to get Grogu back from Gideon, he hadn’t expected a Jedi to show up and take Grogu away from him so fast. He understood it was important for Grogu to be with someone who knew how to train him, but it still hurt. He barely had time to say goodbye.

“We’re here.” Boba Fett’s voice spoke out.

The sound of the ship's engine died down a bit. Din saw the house not too far from the landing pad. He hadn’t been there in a few weeks. His home. Din stood from the seat, Boba and Fennec following him to the ramp.

“Thank you.” Din said, turning to the pair. “For all your help. You didn’t need to help me, but you did. I won’t forget it.”

Boba nodded. “Only returned a favor.” Boba then reached out his hand. “You’ll always have an ally here.”

“Thank you.”

Fennec nodded at him. “I’m sorry things didn’t end the way you wanted them to. I know you weren’t expecting to lose him again so soon.”

Din was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” He turned to the house in front of him before turning back to the pair. “Thank you again.” With that, he walked down the ramp and towards the house. As he walked he heard the engines of the Slave One powering up again. He heard the ship flying off and far away from them. He was alone again.

As he walked towards the front door of the house, he passed by a large garden that was growing lots of different types of fruits and vegetables. He heard the sound of animals in the distance. After walking for what seemed like forever he reached the front door. He pressed his hand to the scanning pad and heard the door unlock with a clink.

Din then took a breath before stepping inside.

The moment Din stepped inside of the house he instantly calmed. The inside was warm. Both in temperature and spirit. They had worked hard to make this place a home and it was showing now. Speaking of the other person who helped make this home with Din…

The man walked out of a room into the living room. He was busy looking at a datapad and hadn’t noticed Din just yet. Din smiled underneath his helmet. There was his husband. “M/n.” Immediately, the man looked up from the tablet and broke into a bright smile. “Din.” He rushed at the Mandalorian, crashing into him with a tight hug. Din was quick to hug his husband back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Din said back to him.

M/n pulled back before looking down and around the floor. “I’m guessing by the absence of a little green baby...you found a Jedi?”

Din went quiet and nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

M/n gave him a small smile and gently rubbed his arm. “It’ll be okay. He’ll never forget you, and you’ll never forget him.” M/n let go of his husband's arm and began walking back. “Now...let me make you something to eat you must be starving.”

Din watched M/n walk towards the kitchen, as he did, he wondered if he should do the thing he's always thought about doing for M/n. M/n had never brought it up. He knew it was part of Din’s code and had always respected him for it. But Din knew his husband wanted to see him. He’d already done it twice very recently, his code was already broken...why not do it for M/n?

Without thinking any more on the subject Din moved his hands up to his helmet. He would be lying if he said it didn’t scare him, but this is M/n. His husband. He wouldn’t make things difficult for Din. Then just like that, his helmet was off.

“So what are you in the mood for? I can make Shaak, Kaadu, anything you wa-” M/n stopped as he took in the sight of his husband's face. A face he’s only caught glances of from reflections and from the side. “Din…”

“M/n. I had to take my helmet off to help Grogu.” Din thought of the first time he had to take his helmet off in the Imperial Refinery. Then the time he took it off when he said goodbye to Grogu...and all the people that saw his face. His code was already broken, but did the code really matter? “I don’t want to hide my face anymore. Not from you.”

M/n smiled and let out a huffed laugh before walking closer and holding Din’s head in his hands. He let his fingers trace every line of the man’s face, taking in every inch of him. Din brought his own gloved hands up to hold his husband’s face. It was clear, unlike looking through a visor he was able to see M/n clearly.

“I see you.” M/n said with a smile.

“I see you too.”

[hercleverboy]

stars

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ spencer and the reader watch the stars and talk about their future.

category ↠ fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 1.7k

dedicating this fluff fest to my wifey, @alltooreid thank you for not only your creative input on this, but also for being there for me when i needed someone. much love <333

“And so I named the stars one by one, after every favourite memory of you.” — Stephen Stilwell

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She whispered, eyes staring up into the night, drawn to the little specks of light dotted in the clear sky. They were laid on the soft grass, blanket beneath them as they looked up together, beaming smiles on both their faces.

He grinned down at the woman who rested her head on his chest, his arms wound tightly around her. “It certainly is. I’m surprised the sky is so clear tonight, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to see much.” He admitted with a little laugh.

She chuckled at that. “You didn’t think we’d see much, and yet you still let me drag you out here at an ungodly hour so we could watch the stars?” She asked, shuffling slightly so she could look up at him.

“Of course. You’re cute when you’re excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that the probability of the sky being clear enough for us to see anything was only around 37%.” He explained, intertwining their hands together. “But there you go again, proving me wrong.”

“Hm. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” She joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I am! Unless you too can recite the Bible from memory? Or the manual for our microwave?” He joked, causing Y/N to give him a gentle shove.

“Can I ask you something?” She whispered, looking up at him.

He breathed out. “Anything.”

They were quiet for a little while before she spoke again. “Do you ever think about our future?”

Spencer’s breath hitched at the question.

Of course, he thought about their future. All the time. Marriage, kids, a big house with a white picket fence, perhaps even a dog. It was the ‘apple-pie’ life he’d dreamt of, more than he’d like to admit.

He gave her a squeeze, one of reassurance.

They’d been together for two years. Two years that had simultaneously been the best and worst of his life. In those years he’d nearly died after being shot in the neck, he’d lost Alex, Kate, Gideon, and the team was still under immense threat from Mr. Scratch. And somehow, admist all the chaos, he’d met this incredible woman who had helped him through it all. The last few months in particular had been rough for him. With Morgan leaving the team and his mother’s condition worsening, it had certainly made him reconsider everything he had in his life and also reminded him of not only what he’d lost, but what he’d gained. 

Y/N sighed, but still gave Spencer a smile. “It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it, I was only wondering.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I’m just trying to gather my thoughts, is all.” He assured her, moving to sit up straight. Y/N sat up too, Spencer reaching out and grabbing one of her hands to hold tightly in his. “I think about it all the time, truthfully.” He mumbled.

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You’re it for me, Y/N.” He gave a small smile, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about my position at the BAU.” He stated firmly. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly in shock, surprised at the confession. The way he said it was so sure, so certain. He’d evidently been thinking about it for quite some time.

“Ever since Morgan left, I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. I understand why he left. His family needed him and it’s honestly the most admirable thing I’ve ever seen him do. I just wonder,” He paused, biting down on his lip in thought. “Would it be wise for me to make the same decision he did?” 

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean— Y/N I love you. I want us to get married, have children, I want us to have a life together. And after watching Morgan, seeing how he gave up the job for his family, don’t you think I should do that too? For you, for us?” He explained, eyes finally meeting her worried ones.

“Woah, woah Spence. Are you saying you’re thinking of leaving the BAU?” She clarified, moving a little closer to him.

Spencer nodded. “I know, it seems crazy right? At first I couldn’t believe that I was even considering it but I’ve thought about it a lot and it just, it seems like the right thing to do.” He gave a small shrug. “If we’re going to have a life together I want our family to be my priority, and I just don’t think I can do that while I’m still doing this job. I’ve seen it all first hand. I watched Hotch lose Haley, I watched Morgan nearly lose Savannah, all because of this job.” 

Y/N shook her head slowly, much to Spencer’s surprise. “Spencer... I won’t be the reason that you leave a job that you worked so hard for, a job that you love so much. What about the team? They’re your family- ��

It was Spencer’s turn to shake his head, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You’re right. The team are my family, but so are you. And if they care about me like I know they do, they’ll support me with this. And as for jobs? There are plenty out there that I’ll enjoy. I’ve actually been thinking of getting in contact with Alex, maybe asking about teaching opportunities at Georgetown.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she studied his face intently. He avoided her eyes, small smile pulling at his lips.

She smiled back, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve already spoken to Alex about it, haven’t you?”

Spencer chuckled with a nod. “You know me too well. I spoke to her last week. She said there’s an open spot as the head of the Criminal Psychology department. The job is mine if I want it.”

Y/N gave him a grin, squeezing his hands. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “No, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re not going to resent me in a few years because of this.”

He was quick to shake his head, pulling her toward him as one of his hands came up to cup her face. “I would never resent you.”

“So, this is what you want?” She asked once more, just so she knew he was absolutely sure. 

He nodded adamantly. “I want you. I’m only ever going to want you.” He murmured the words so softly that it made Y/N’s heart ache. “Now, and for the rest of my days.”

With joyful tears building in her eyes she nodded, enveloping him in a hug as he kissed the side of her forehead.

Spencer let out a sigh accompanied by a teary smile. He gave her a squeeze, his hands soothing along her back as he looked up at the stars. “Did you know, there’s an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. We’re supposedly, quite literally, bound together through space and time. Isn’t that cool?” He rambled, earning a chuckle from Y/N.

“That is really cool.” She agreed. 

“You know I’m a man of science, but how else is it possible that you came into my life at a time where I needed you the most?” He whispered the last part, as though he was afraid to be so vulnerable as to let the words leave his lips. “Do you- do you think it’s possible that the stars brought us together?” 

She grinned, tilting back her head slightly to look up at the stars with him. “Yeah, I think so.” 

*

Spencer looked down in awe at the baby girl pressed against his bare chest. Josephine June Reid, barely three days old and already she had her father wrapped right around her tiny finger. Nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the feeling he had when he looked down at her, his little girl, his daughter. She slept peacefully against him, her little chest rising and falling rhythmically as his hands soothed over her back, gently rocking her. 

There was a soft knock on the nursery door, his tired-looking wife pushing it open. “Spence?”

He looked up, and offered her a warm smile. “Hey, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Y/N gave a sleepy grin, moving toward them. “You know that we’re supposed to sleep when she does, right?”

He snickered at that, raising an eyebrow at her. “You only gave birth three days ago. You know I’m going to tell you to get back into bed, right? Doctor’s orders.”

She held her hands up in a mock surrender, placing a kiss on the side of Spencer’s head. “I know.” 

It was silent for a moment, the new parents just staring down at the little life they’d created, filled with such a warmth, such a happiness that they’d never felt before. 

“I can’t put her down, not yet. I don’t want to let her go.” Spencer whispered, bringing up a finger to soothe over his daughter’s cheek. “I love her so much.”

“I know. She loves you too.” Y/N assured, watching with joy at how Spencer was with their daughter. He really was a natural with kids.

“You really should go back to bed, love. You need all the rest you can get.” He warned in a playful tone.

Y/N chuckled a little with a nod, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I’m not going to fight you on that one Doc, I’m exhausted.” She ruffled the curls on her husband’s head, offering him a warm smile. “Love you. Come back to bed soon, yeah?”

Spencer nodded, promising he would.  

Before Y/N left the nursery, she turned back to her husband, calling his name softly. “Spence?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you regret it now?” She whispered, her fingers fumbling together as though she was afraid she wouldn’t like his answer. “Do you regret leaving the BAU?”

The question made him frown, it made him think. Did he regret leaving? 

His eyes flickered between his wife and the beautiful little girl against his chest and he smiled slightly at the realisation. This was everything he’d ever wanted, here, right in front of him. Every decision he’d made, every moment of heartache, every person he’d lost, they had all lead him there. To that very moment. 

And for that, he was so incredibly grateful. 

“No.” He replied, his voice as sure as the day he first mentioned leaving. “Not even for a second.”

He supposed he had the stars to thank for that. 

[moon-light-jukebox]

Don’t Go - [Reid x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: After being tortured by Tobias Hankel, Dr. Spencer Reid is struggling and everyone can see it. Reader can’t bear his pain and tries to comfort him...only to be heartbroken when he says their night meant nothing.  

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.6k

Genre: Angst. Angst. Angst. But fluff at the end cause I’m not a monster. 

Content Warning: Talk of drug use, language, penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), and just angst. All the angst. Get tissue. 

A/n: This is set over the arc of episodes  2x16 - 2x18. A special thank you to @imjusthereformggcontent and @catsadams for reading through the beginning of this in its first form. You’re both angels.  I hope this is everything y’all wanted it to be, my doves. Thank you for sticking with me. 

Request prompt: Can you write a fic where Spencer is high on dilaudid and tells you that your night together was nothing and that you're nothing to him. Then the next day he can't rember telling you and and he can't figure out why you are avoiding him.

-- Don’t Go -- 

The first indication I got that today wasn’t going to be normal came when Special Agent Grant Anderson shuffled into my office just after 9:30 am. He didn’t knock before he entered and then shut the door quickly behind him.

I glanced up from the paperwork in front of me, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Something on your mind, Special Agent?” I teased.

Ever since Anderson made a mistake that led to SSA Elle Greenaway being shot a few months ago, a lot of people on this floor had been giving him the cold shoulder, despite the fact that Greenaway had forgiven him before she left the BAU.

When I first joined the bureau and was assigned to this unit, Anderson had been my first friend. He was there for me when I felt nervous and like I was a complete imposter. He’s the reason I was still a member of this team; I’d never turn my back on him.

“Something’s up with Reid.”

I propped both of my elbows on the desk, my chin resting on my folded hands. “Well, he was just abducted and tortured. That’s gonna have an effect on someone.”

Anderson was already shaking his head before I got done speaking. “This is different. I just tried to talk to him while he was getting some coffee. I asked him about David Tennant taking over as The Doctor and he…he snapped at me, y/l/n.”

Okay, that’s odd. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking,” I defended. “He was tortured, Grant.”

“I’ve known him since I started here. He’s…something is wrong.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “It can’t be anything too bad. I mean, he’s surrounded by profilers. His mentor is Jason Gideon for god’s sake. If something was wrong, they’d know.”

Anderson walked forward and braced his palms on my desk, his eyes boring into mine.

“Dr. Spencer Reid is also one of the best profilers in the world. I’m telling you, y/n, something is wrong.”

I conceded with a sigh. “What do we do?”

“I think you should talk to him.”

My spine stiffened. “Me? Why?” But I knew why.

Anderson scoffed. “You know how he looks at you. And I know how you look at him.”

Dr. Spencer Reid’s nervousness around me could have been blamed on many things, Anderson insisted it meant he liked me. I wasn’t convinced…because I saw how he looked at JJ.

How I looked at Reid was obvious. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met, he was kind, sweet, and his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. My heart fluttered when he realized he was rambling and he blushed, and my day was made whenever he would seek me out to talk to me.

I had a crush on Spencer Reid.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

He shot me a relieved smile and backed away from the desk. “Sooner than later, please.”

Such a sassy bitch, I thought as he shut the door.

--

It was well after 6 pm when I gathered my things to leave the office that day. I had been hired as one of the many, many agents that worked under JJ. Media liaison wasn't her only role; she also fielded hundreds of requests for FBI assistance every week. It was my job to go through those requests, make initial judgments, and then send out responses.

I had always been happier working behind the scenes, so a job filled with paperwork suited me just fine. All I wanted to do was help catch bad guys, and with the BAU I felt like I was making a difference.

Speaking to Reid had been on my mind all day, but I had expected that I'd have the night to think up a plan of attack then talk to him first thing in the morning, but when I walked past the bullpen I saw him at his desk.

The entire floor appeared to be empty apart from him. His shoulders were hunched, his head resting in his hands.

I was opening the doors before I realized what was happening. I had crossed the distance until I was standing in front of him before I even knew what I was going to say.

“Reid,” I said softly. I almost touched him, but I didn’t think he’d like that. He didn’t seem to like to be touched.

His head snapped up; the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, his hair was messier than usual, and his clothing was in disarray. He cleared his throat, his tongue running over his dry lips.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," I began, standing at the end of his desk. "I don't even know how to begin to think about it. So, I won't ask you to talk about it. I won't ask you to talk at all. I just…I just want you to know that I'm here if you just want a friend. If you want to grab some coffee and talk about nothing…whatever."

Those warm brown eyes were duller than I’d ever seen them, but they ran over my entire body quizzically, like he wasn’t sure I was even there.

After a beat, I decided it was best to leave him to it. I couldn't force him to accept my offer…not that I would force him even if I could. "Goodnight, Reid."

I turned and made my way back to the double glass doors of the bullpen. I hadn’t heard him move, so I was completely thrown off guard when his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes looked up to meet his, confusion plain on my face.

His eyes weren't dull anymore, they were shimmering but not in any way I ever wanted to see. He swiped at his cheek angrily when the first tear fell. "Don't go," he rasped.

I won’t.  

--

We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to the lobby. It was only when we reached the front doors of the building that I spoke. “Where do you want to go?”

He scratched at his forearm, his eyes moving over the room behind us like he was expecting someone to run out from any direction. I wasn't a profiler, but I recognized hypervigilance when I saw it.

“I don’t know. Not here.”

I nodded. “Alright. Do you want to go…get food? Coffee?” He shook his head, his hands now picking at the threads of the cardigan he wore. “We could go for a walk?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes rising to meet mine. “I don’t want to be around a lot of people right now.”

“Okay, we can-“

“But,” he interrupted. “I…I’m afraid to be alone, y/n. I’m…I’m so fucking afraid.”

I reached for him only to still my hand at the last second, millimeters away from touching him. “I won’t leave you alone, Reid.” My teeth dug into my lower lip as I thought. “We could go to your apartment. Or mine.” I quickly added when I saw how his eyes widened at the mention of his place.

“I…I don’t want to go home.” He licked his lips again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Then you don’t have to go home right now. We’ll go to my place. We can order dinner, watch a movie, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”

The look of relief on his face, combined with the smile he sent me warmed up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was cold.

--

The ride to my apartment was mostly silent; I had turned the radio on for background noise. Spencer’s eyes kept staring out of my passenger side window while his hands twisted in his lap.

He followed behind me quietly when we entered my building, then took the elevator up to my apartment. Spencer’s eyes glided over my apartment, taking in the photos of my friends and family on the walls, the throw pillows on my couch, and the titles on my bookshelf.

I went into the kitchen to get us both a bottle of water only to find him standing in the same spot when I returned.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, do you want to sit down?”

He nodded, following me over to my couch. I curled my feet up under myself, my hands folded in my lap. “Spencer…I know I said you don’t have to talk, and you don’t. But…I want to help. I just…I want to do anything I can to help you.” I let out a breath, embarrassed that my voice was already thick with tears. “If that means sitting here beside you and just staring at the wall that’s fine. I…I just want to help.”

Reid’s head swiveled over to face me, those beautiful brown eyes were frightened. “Tobias…he…he hurt me. And I can still feel it,” he whispered, his voice raw even in that hushed volume. “It’s all I feel. I just…I don’t want to hurt anymore, y/n. I can’t stand it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from rising up on my knees and moving towards him. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”

The words weren’t out of my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my middle, laying his head against my chest. When the first sob wracked through his body, I felt something inside of me crack. The second sob triggered my own.

I didn't know what had happened to him, and if I did know, I don't think I would ever truly understand. But the agony he was in affected me more than any pain I had ever felt myself.

My fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the soft tangles. His hair is curly, I thought absentmindedly. He always wore it slicked down…but it was curly.

Spencer finally quieted after a few moments, his sobs turning into sniffles. “Thank you.”

I gave a broken chuckle. “Don’t thank me for caring about you, Spencer.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, his eyes moving over my cheeks. “You cried for me.”

I nodded.

“Why?”

The question was so unexpected that I wasn’t prepared to do anything but tell the truth. “It hurts me to see you hurt.”

Spencer looked at me for a moment longer, absorbing my words before his palm came up and cupped my jaw, his thumb wiping my left-over tears away. He gentled pulled my head down until my lips pressed against his. Our first kiss was tender, his lips were slightly chapped but still unbelievably soft. Something about this kiss broke my heart more than his tears did.

My hands had come up to cup his face, my actions a mirror of his own. “I…I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spencer,” I mumbled out when we had pulled apart.

He chuckled softly. “You’re worried about that?” His mood became somber when I nodded. “Y/n…you know how I look at you. Everyone does. I don’t…I don’t want this if you don’t. I don’t want you to do this out of pity-“

“Spencer,” I gasped. “I would never…I’d never touch you out of pity. I-I want to touch you. I have for a long time.”

you. I have for a long time.”

Tears started to shine in his eyes again at my words. “Then please touch me, y/n. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I just…I just want to feel how I feel when you hold me. It-It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”

Our lips came together the second time in understanding and hope. My mouth brushed against his with a promise that I was touching him because I wanted to. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it while his hands wove into my hair.

I moved to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of him, while my hands started working on the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer’s tongue ghosted against my lips; the groan he gave when I immediately let him inside made my core throb.

He froze when I started to push his shirt off his shoulders. “What is it?”

“It’s…I don’t want you to see…what he did to me. Please?”

I moved off of him quickly, extending my hand to pull him from the couch. I led him down the hall to my bedroom, not turning on the overhead light when we entered; the only source of light was a sliver of moonlight through the curtains.

“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to,” I whispered. “Do you…”

His lips crushed against mine, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me against his body. Those long fingers started working my shirt up my body, breaking away momentarily to pull it over my head.

Once my pants were down my thighs, he pushed me back onto the bed. He had removed his cardigan but left his button-up shirt on. I reached behind myself to unhook my bra, feeling a sudden nervousness rise up in my chest.

His fingers were warm when they brushed over my collarbones, drifting down over my breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I pulled him on top of me when I leaned back on the bed, our lips meeting in a heated frenzy. He palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, causing me to arch up against him.

Spencer’s lips moved down until he was mouthing my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, all the while his hand ghosted down my body until his fingers hooked on the top of my panties.

His head lifted, his eyes searching mine. “Can I touch you?”

I nodded, my hand moving atop his, guiding him inside my panties; I couldn’t control my gasp when his fingers parted my folds to brush against me.

My hands went to his belt. “I-is this okay?”

He nodded, his mouth coming down to cover the tip of my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple to a point. Those long fingers gathered wetness from my opening to bring it up to circle my clit. Ever the scientist, Spencer paid attention to every reaction I had, he wanted to learn how to touch me.

When his middle and ring finger entered me, his palm grinding against my clit, I finally got his pants open. My hand snacked inside to palm his cock, pulling a grown from him.

“Can I push these down a bit?”

“Please,” he breathed, his lips coming over mine.

His pants were down to his mid-thighs before I wrapped my hand around him. He was bigger than I expected, not overly thick, but longer than anyone I had been with before.

“Y/n,” he whimpered against my lips, his fingers speeding up inside of me.

I gave a few pumps, my movements uncoordinated. “I want to feel you inside me, Spence. Please?”

Reid groaned, removing his fingers from my heat. “Do you have a condom?”

I turned to my bedside table, fumbling in the darkness. When I turned back to face him, I saw two of his fingers in his mouth. The same two fingers that had just been inside of me.

“Jesus,” I breathed out, finding the sight of him sucking my arousal off his fingers incredibly erotic.

He took the condom from me, his lips quirking up in a smile. "I've…I've never done that before." His eyes moved down to my still covered pussy. "I want to…but I-I don't want this time to be worse for you than it has to be," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Hey," I muttered, my hands cupping that well-defined jaw. "This isn't going to be bad for me, Spencer. Just being with you is wonderful."

My words felt heavy in the air. Because they were true.

Spencer swallowed thickly, rolling the condom down over his length. I tugged my panties off, leaving me totally bare to him, while he still had most of his clothing on.

Even with that weird detail, this was still wonderful; being with Spencer like this was…everything.

I gripped him, lining him up at my entrance. His forehead dropped against mine when he started to push inside of me.

“Spence,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his hips.

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Better than okay. You feel so good.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think anything could feel better than…fuck.” His slim hips pressed against mine when he was fully sheathed inside of me.

I felt my pussy flutter at his words. I’d never heard Spencer curse like that before.

We started a steady pace; his thrusts were even, and my hips rose to meet them. His arms were braced on either side of my head, his lips brushing against mine while he fucked me.

Calling it fucking seemed wrong. It was so much more.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

My hand squeezed down between our bodies to rub my clit. “Hold on. I’m almost there.” I whined out.

His moan seemed to tingle across my skin when he dropped his head against my shoulder. “I want to feel you cum, baby.”

I whimpered at his words. “Spencer, harder. I need it harder.”

His hips snapped against mine as he slammed into me, I felt his teeth on the tender skin where my neck and shoulder met for a second before he bit down.

The mix of pain with pleasure sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on him as I found my own orgasm, pulling him over the edge with me.

My fingers ran over his back, scratching at the material of his shirt. I breathed his name out over and over while I floated back down from my high.

I felt his tongue soothe over the bite mark he had just given me as he gave a few more jerks inside of me before pulling out. He placed the sweetest kiss against my lips and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but not with tears this time.

--

After we cleaned up, we ordered take out and watched some sci-fi movie that was on cable. I couldn’t tell you a thing about it; I was too busy watching Spencer’s face when he told me all about it. I was enraptured by his voice, the way his hands moved.

He was so beautiful.

Before I was ready, I realized that it was already approaching midnight. “It’s late,” I said.

He nodded. “I should go.”

It was childish, but I couldn’t stop my lip from jutting out in a pout, causing him to laugh.

“What is it, beautiful?” he questioned, his voice teasing.

I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ‘beautiful’ me, Spencer Reid,” I scolded, delighted when he laughed. “I just…I’m not ready for you to go.”

Something in Spencer’s eyes changed. He seemed almost relieved at my words. “I’m not ready to go either.”

I leaned over, placing a soft kiss in the center of his lips. “Then don’t go.”

--

Spending the night with Spence was worth how early I had to wake up the following morning to drive him by his apartment before work. I had offered to wait and give him a ride to work, but he had gotten a text from Garcia. They had gotten called to Houston for a case; Morgan was going to swing by and get him.

“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised, cupping my face when he kissed me goodbye.

The circles under his eyes this morning weren’t as dark as they had been before.

--

I could barely contain my excitement when we got the notification that the team was headed back. Part of me felt silly for being so excited. I mean, it was just one night; but it hadn’t felt like just one night.

Spencer hadn’t called me during the few days he’d been in Texas, but I hadn’t really expected him to. If anyone understood his job, it was someone who worked with his team. The BAU was such an elite unit within the FBI for a reason; they would stop at nothing to solve a case.

When the glass doors of the bullpen opened and I saw Hotch stride in, heading for his office, I couldn’t contain my smile.

“I saw that,” Anderson muttered.

I reached out and smack his arm. “You wanted me to talk to Reid.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “And judging by that mark on your neck you did more than talk.”

I scowled at him. “See if I’m on your side the next time you fuck up,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t take my words to heart.

He just offered me a wide smile. That’s how Anderson had lasted so long here, he never really held onto anything.

“Your man doesn’t look so good,” he said suddenly.

I turned, my eyes seeking out Spencer. He was right, the dark circles were back under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction.

He never turned his head in my direction.

--

I had wanted to give Spencer some space when he first arrived back. What if something about this case had affected him? I thought that maybe that was the reason he had been avoiding me.

My department always had more paperwork than usual when the team came back from a case, so I wasn’t able to leave until after 7. While I gathered up my things I debated about calling Reid, thinking he was already gone. When I went to take Hotch some files about 20 minutes earlier Spencer was rushing out of the bullpen with his bag clutched in his hands.

Even though I wasn’t expecting to see him, I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the glass doors when I passed by out of habit.

He was sitting at his desk. His head was tilted back, and it looked like his eyes were closed. Even in a position that most people would appear relaxed in, he still seemed incredibly tense.  

I can just pop in and tell him hi, I reasoned. Let him know I’m not expecting anything, but I’m here for him.

I had given a lot of thought to my relationship with Spencer over the days he was gone. He was still healing from what happened with Tobias, it wasn’t fair of me to put unreasonable expectations on him right now. I was his friend before anything else. I could put my personal feelings aside if I needed to.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open and headed towards his desk. The only person still at their desk was the newest member of the team, SSA Prentiss.

“Hey, y/n,” she greeted.

I had intended to return her greeting, but Spencer’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. The look in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like my presence in this space was annoying to him.

Reid stood abruptly, pulling the strap of his messenger back up on his shoulder before he brushed past me. I had barely processed his actions before he was already leaving the bullpen.

“Spence!” I called. “Hang on!”

He just kept walking. I all but sprinted in my attempt to catch up to him. “Spencer, what the fuck,” I whispered. I knew he had seen me. Once I was closer to him, I reached out and gripped his elbow in an attempt to get his attention.

His entire body jerked as he spun around to face me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words.

My body recoiled from him like he’d slapped me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought…I just…”

Just then a pair of agents walked past us and they did not bother hiding the curiosity in their eyes.

Spencer’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm, pulling me along behind him. The hold he had on my arm was almost painful, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My brain was still playing his words over and over again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He didn’t stop until we reached the copy room; he jerked the door open and shoved me inside.

“Spencer!” I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing the skin with my other hand. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“You thought what?” he snarled taking a step closer to me. “You thought that because I fucked you that means you’re my girlfriend now or something?”

My eyes widened at his words. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach while some unnamable feeling made me throat constrict. “N-no, I didn’t think that. I just-“

I had heard Spencer’s laugh so many times before, it used to make me smile every time I heard it. People who hadn’t heard him laugh before might have thought the sound that he made when he heard my words was a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was harsh and brittle. His face was pulled into a smile that was condescending.

“Are you sure, y/l/n? Because you’ve sure been fucking acting like it all day. I feel your pathetic little looks everywhere I turn. Like I kicked your dog or something.”

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes because…this wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t my Spencer. My Spencer couldn’t use chopsticks and held my face when he kissed me.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned in disgust. “Are you going to cry, y/n? Are you kidding me right now?”

People always say terrible things happen so fast, it’s what I read in witness statements all the time. This was a terrible thing, but time seemed to slow down for it. I saw everything in perfect detail, I heard every single syllable that came out of this mouth.

When the first tear slid down my cheek that dark, brittle laugh left his mouth again. “If you weren’t being so pathetic, I might feel bad for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks.

“Why am I doing what, y/n?” His voice was so much louder than it was before. It didn’t make sense that he brought me to a more private place to avoid attention but now he was…yelling at me. “We fucked, do you get that? That is all! I don’t know what sad little schoolgirl fantasy you built up in your mind, but that night wasn’t special to me.”

Oh. I swallowed down my emotion, my eyes moving away from him to stare down at the floor. I wished I was the sort of person that could lash out whenever I was hurt, to hurt that person back as badly as they hurt me; but it’s just not who I was.

Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, Spencer moved closer to me. His fingers brushed over the strands of hair that hung near my shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, y/n. You’re not special. You were just a desperate girl that wanted attention. You were a pussy to use.”

I jerked back violently at his words, putting as much distance as I could between us. My entire body felt so cold, my face frozen in a mask of confusion.

Reid scoffed once more before he turned and left the room.

He never looked back at me.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in the copy room after he’d left. It may have been seconds; it could have been hours. I think I was in some sort of shock; my body just autopiloted to a place I felt safe.

I don’t remember unlocking my office door. I don’t remember collapsing in my chair and burying my head in my hands while sobs tore out of my chest.

All I remember is hearing my name a moment before I felt someone standing beside me.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called softly. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

I lifted my head and looked into the worried face of one of my best friends.

Anderson didn’t say anything further, he just pulled me up from my chair and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.

--

Pain is a universal experience, but everyone feels it differently. Everyone heals differently.

My grandmother used to say, “Everything will be different in the morning.” I was never sure if that was true or not, but today I chose to believe it was. The pain and humiliation that burned in my gut when I remembered Spencer’s words yesterday wouldn’t last forever.

I had made a mistake. I had let someone use my body only to find out that person wasn’t who I thought they were. I wasn’t the first person to make that mistake, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the last.

Anderson had stayed with me in my office last night while I pulled myself together enough to go home. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he wasn’t stupid, I’m sure he suspected what had broken my heart.

In a perfect world, I would have fallen for someone like Grant Anderson. He was kind, funny, and a constant source of comfort when I felt my world breaking apart.

I had always tried to think of each painful moment as a lesson in some way, and lessons can teach you both good and bad things. Even my worst moments of pain, I couldn’t regret the choices that lead me to them. Every single experience shapes us into who we grow to be.

One day, when this pain in my heart wasn't so sharp, I think I might be able to look back on my night with Spencer Reid without feeling regret. He had been my friend, he was hurting. How I tried to help his suffering was a mark of who I was.

How he caused me pain was a mark of who he was.

Grant had sent me a text around 6 am, asking me if I was going to take some personal time. The BAU wasn't assigned to an active case today, but I had sent some files over to JJ that looked promising. My money was they'd be headed out to New Orleans tomorrow to catch a serial killer once she had reviewed those files.

A very large part of myself wanted to stay home; I wanted to hide from my pain and tend to my wounded heart in private. But no matter how big that part of me was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let this pain consume me.

I wouldn’t let it.

With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked into the headquarters of the FBI.

--

The hardest moments after a tragedy are the moments after; after the first wave of pain has passed and you’re expected to go back to your normal life. The world never slowed down just because you were in agony.

JJ came by and told me she thought New Orleans looked promising and asked if I could contact the lead detective for any updates then forward those to her.

She wasn’t a profiler but even she knew something was wrong. Right before she walked out of my office she said, “Hey, are you okay?”

It's always so much worse when they ask you if you're okay because they never want an honest answer. So, on top of all the agony, you feel you have to pull off a convincing lie.

“Just tired, JJ.”

I don’t think she quite believed me, but she was kind enough not to push me any further.

A few hours later JJ was on the phone the detective heading up the investigation into the murders happening in the French Quarter. It looked like the team was heading out to New Orleans sometime tomorrow morning.

My job mostly had me working with JJ, but SSA Hotchner was the unit chief. It wasn’t uncommon that I had to get his signature of approval on something JJ needed. So, when it was time to stop by Hotch’s office, I made my way there with no outward reluctance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spencer standing around the cluster of desks that housed his teammates. They all called out in greeting after I dropped the files off, but I had only waved over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.

Anderson had been popping in and out of my office all morning. First, he had made excuses for coming by, but much to my amusement he had dropped the façade after he came to ask me if he could borrow a pen…while he was holding a pen.

The biggest dilemma of my day was over coffee. Of course, I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and I was dragging. Caffeine was obviously the answer.

But if you knew Spencer Reid, you know he was always at the coffee machine in the BAU bullpen.

I could just go downstairs to counterterrorism, I thought idly. But if I’m already in the elevator I could just run down the block and get coffee. JJ wouldn’t mind.

I was still debating my options when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

I am not proud of my actions, I’m truly not. But there is only one person in this whole building who would knock on a door that hesitantly.

The blinds in my office were closed…but I had left the door unlocked.

On instinct, I slid out of my chair, knees hitting the floor, and hid under my desk.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n? I mentally scolded myself. This is a new low, even for you.

It turned out to be pointless anyway.

He didn’t open the door.

--

“You don’t have to tell me,” Anderson began. “But…”

“I have to tell you?” I supplied after a beat.

He flopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Exactly.”

The small smile that curled up on my face was the first real smile I’d had in almost 24 hours.

How had it only been 24 hours?

“Listen,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “I know it’s about Reid. I’m not a profiler, but it’s all that makes sense.”

“How’s that?”

One of his dark brown eyebrows raised at the question. “I mean, even if we ignored everything else, the fact that he keeps walking past your office door is a dead giveaway.”

I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Grant, I can’t right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” I whispered out. “I don’t…I need to hold it together. Just for a while longer.”

Grant reclined his back against the chair, his eyes surveying me. “Fine. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I don’t like feeling like this.

“Alright,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I have to go run some sort of errand for Garcia.”

I didn’t bother asking, he’d say it was “classified.”

All the air seemed to leave the room when he opened the door.

Spencer was standing on the other side, his hand up like he had been about to knock.

Grant’s entire body jerked while Spencer’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” my friend demanded.

The most startling thing was how surprised Spencer looked at Grant’s tone; like it was some oddity that one of my closest friends would have been angry on my behalf.

“C-can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.

I licked my lips, weighing my options. How could he hurt me any worse? I gave Grant a nod, signaling that I was okay. He moved out of the way, granting Spencer entry, but I knew my friend; he wouldn’t be far.

The man in front of me waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “Did I do something?”

My eyes had dropped down to my hands only to shoot up to his face at those words. What?

“To make you upset?” he clarified. “I…you’ve been avoiding me all day. And I know you were in here earlier when I knocked.”

His words tore at the bandages I had wrapped my heart in, ripping my wound open again. All I could do was wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt to physically hold myself together. “W-why would I want to talk to you?”

If possible, he looked even more confused than I felt. “What is going on?” He took a step towards me. “Baby-“

My reaction to hearing that word come out of his mouth was visceral. I shot to my feet, almost stumbling over my chair in an attempt to put more distance between us.

Spencer froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Please, y/n, you have to talk to me. It…it hurts me to see you hurt.”

Any work I had done to repair my heart was destroyed at his words. I never should have let him inside. The look on his face twisted a knife in my stomach. He had the audacity to look distraught over my tears like he wasn’t the cause of them.

“I know I said I’d call but I was just so busy with the case…I thought…you’d understand.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth while my eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears that were clouding my vision. If I couldn’t remember everything about yesterday so clearly, I would doubt that the man standing before me now was the same monster that spewed venom at me yesterday.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

He flinched at my use of his last name. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why?” I rasped out. “Do you want it to hurt more? Why are you doing this to me?”

Spencer took another step towards me, his hands were outstretched. "I don't-"

"Don't fucking touch me." I tried to fill my words with the same venom his words had yesterday when he told me the same thing, but my words came out as a broken plea.

He blinked and dropped his hands to his sides. “I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this.”

A sad sort of laugh came out of my mouth at his words.

Somehow the non-acknowledgment of my pain hurt worse than anything. “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot our conversation yesterday?”

Spencer shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “No, I didn’t talk to you yesterday.”

What? “Yes, you did.” My voice shook but my words still tumbled out of my mouth. “You pulled me into the copy room and told me…you told me that our night together was nothing…you told me that I was nothing.”

His brows knit together, his mouth popping open. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re everything, y/n.”

“Reid, please…I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t take this. I can’t…” My shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t make me feel this again.”

“Pathetic?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? Is this…is this some sort of game? You don’t want to be with me…so you do this? Did Anderson tell you about my mom?”

“What?”

“My mom has schizophrenia. Is that why you’re trying to make me feel crazy?”

My brows knitted together. “I…Nobody told me about your mom. I’m not trying to make you feel crazy. And I wanted to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want to be with me.”

He still denied my words. “No, I haven’t talked to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You avoided me all day yesterday. When I finally came to talk to you in the bullpen you walked past me like I wasn't there. Then I went after you." I held up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to show him the finger-shaped bruises. "You dragged me into the copy room. You told me I was pathetic. You mocked me. You told me I was just some girl…some pussy for you to use."

He kept flinching at my words like they were whips leaving lashes all over his body.

“You told me I was nothing. You told me our night together was nothing.”

“No.” He continued to shake his head. “I…I wouldn’t say that. But I especially wouldn’t say that to you. You’re wrong.”

I just shrugged. “Ask Prentiss. She saw me follow you out of the bullpen yesterday. Ask Garcia to pull the security footage. There’s probably a recording of you breaking my heart.”

“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over again.

“I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t remember, Spencer.”

He didn’t say anything else; he just turned and left my office, slamming the door behind him.

--

JJ was suspicious when I called her from my office phone instead of just walking over to see her, but she didn’t ask any questions about the mysterious illness I told her had hit me. She just told me that she hoped I felt better and to take all the time I needed.

I knew that the team was set to fly out after JJ presented the case at 10 am in the morning, meaning that going back to work tomorrow wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how badly I hurt now, I couldn’t lay down and cry about it.

Part of me was afraid if I laid down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

With that in mind, I would give myself today to feel the full force of my heartbreak. I would cry when I wanted to, I’d watch sad movies and make myself cry more, I’d eat junk food that ultimately only made me feel worse. I would feel this pain for one day.

I told myself Spencer Reid didn’t deserve more of my tears than that. I told myself that over and over again until I almost believed it.

Anderson had been texting me all day to check-in, I had even gotten a nice call from Penelope Garcia asking me if I needed anything.

The most unexpected call came at 8 pm that night from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Y/n?” the voice asked. “This is Prentiss.”

Oh. “Oh. Hi, Emily.”

“Listen, I called for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to check in on you, and the second is…the second is a bit more personal.”

Oh. I cleared my throat. “I’m as good as I can be, Emily.”

She sighed. "I figured. Which brings me to my second question. Did something happen between you and Reid?" After a few moments of my silence, Prentiss hurried on. "You don't have to tell me. It's just that…Reid came up to me this afternoon and demanded to know if I had seen you come into the bullpen to talk to him yesterday."

“What did you say?”

“Um, I told him yes. Because I did. What is going on?”

My fingers picked at the edges of the blanket in my lap. “I don’t know. Anderson thinks something is up with him.”

“We all think something is up with him.”

Her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.

--

I arrived to work the following morning at 9 am, a full thirty minutes later than usual. JJ had stopped by my office to see how I was doing, followed by a visit from Prentiss. Garcia had teetered into the room about 15 minutes after Emily left, giving me a frosted cookie that was bigger than my hand.

“Cookies help,” she had said confidently.  

I hoped she was right.

Anderson popped in last. "Hey, ooh." He skidded to a stop. "You look terrible."

I shot him a withering look. “Thank you so much, Grant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“…That I look terrible?”

He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Anyway, Hotch needs the mileage forms for the SUVs. I can run it over to him.”

My teasing tone vanished. “I’ve got it, Grant.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I had to believe it was. Or at the very least it would be soon.

It took every ounce of will power I had not to let my eyes wander over to his desk when I entered the bullpen. I could almost feel him looking at me. It went against every natural instinct I had to ignore him…but what else could I do?

Hotch wasn’t in his office when I knocked but the door was unlocked. He never minded if we walked in when he was out if we just had something to drop off. I tried to find an open space on his desk to set the forms when I heard the door squeak on its hinges behind me.

I spun around, my startled eyes connecting with a pair of sharp brown eyes.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Agent Gideon. I didn’t see you there.”

He gave me a small smile, but that sharp look didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would have,” he said simply. “It’s hard to notice anyone else when you’re trying so hard to not notice someone.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gideon just nodded. “I’m going to tell you something. Now, you can take these words to heart, and I hope you do, or you can take them as the ramblings of…a sentimental old man.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Okay.”

"A lot of people think that the most important thing you can have in a relationship is love," he began, his eyes never wavering from mine. "In my not so humble opinion, they are incorrect. You see, y/l/n, love fades. Love isn't a thing that can stay in one form forever. It's always changing… its fluid."

“Sir, I don’t-“

“You know what the most important thing is?” he asked as if I hadn’t spoken. “Mercy.”

I just blinked at him. “I…I don’t think I understand.”

He just smiled at me, his hands moving into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe not yet, but I think you will.” Gideon’s gaze broke from mine, looking through the windows of Hotch’s office to settle on Reid. His head was bent over his desk while his fingers ran over the pages in front of him. “He’ll need mercy, y/n. More than anything else.”

Agent Gideon turned back to look at me. “He’ll need it from all of us, but I don’t think he’ll need it from anyone more than you.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I truly didn’t understand what he was talking about.

With one final smile, he turned and left the office, leaving me with my thoughts.

--

Agent Gideon’s words were still swirling through my mind the following afternoon when I got another odd call from Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, y/l/n,” she began, her tone annoyed. “Listen, have you heard from Reid?”

My entire body stilled. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“He was supposed to meet us at the plane. Morgan and I are waiting for him but he isn’t answering his cell.”

I hated the worry that wormed its way through my heart at her words. “I’m sorry, Em. I haven’t talked to him.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It was a long shot. Thanks, y/n.”

For several minutes after she hung up, I just stared at my phone. Don’t, I told myself firmly. He’s not your problem.

Spencer Reid wasn't my problem…but I couldn't just stop caring about him overnight. That's not the sort of person I was.

I kept telling myself I was calling to check on him for me, because I was the sort of person who checked on their friends.

It didn’t make it easier when he didn’t answer my calls either.

--

The need to silence the shrill ringing of my phone pulled me from my sleep the following night. I still hadn't heard from Spencer, but Prentiss had called me this morning to tell me Reid had gone to see one of his friends and "didn't have a signal." Her tone indicated she thought he was full of shit.

My eyes cracked open to look at the caller ID. When I read the name of the person calling me, my fingers frantically pushed “accept.”

“Spencer?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

I sat up in my bed, my eyes looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s after 3 am. Did something happen with the case?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. The unsub is a woman. We tried to catch her tonight…but we can try again tomorrow.”

“You’ll get her.”

The only sound I heard was his uneven breathing. “That’s not why I called.”

My tongue ran over my lips while I pulled the blankets further up my chest like they would be able to protect me in some way. "Why did you call?"

“Do you think people deserve forgiveness?”

“I…I think it depends.”

“On what?” he asked desperately.

“On what they did…on if they’re sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did you do something, Spencer?”

“I made a mistake.”

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t just talking about what had happened between us. He sounded just like I remembered him sounding when I wrapped my arms around him that night he came to my house.

His voice broke when he spoke again. “I’m so lost, y/n,” he sobbed. “I’m so lost and I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

I fought to control my own emotions when he spoke. No matter what happened my heart still ached at the pain in his voice. “You might be lost, Spencer. But you’re not alone. Your team…your family found you. They brought you home. They’re still here for you. They’ll bring you home again.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own dark sea of pain.

“I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me,” he said at last. “So, I won’t ask. I don’t even…I don’t even remember what I said.”

I think my subconscious mind had been connecting these pieces together for a while because in the darkness of my bedroom at almost 4 am, things finally began to take shape. The darkness that hung over Spencer was finally starting to take form.

“Just focus on the case, Spencer. We can talk when you get home.”

“Wait,” he called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

I don’t think I ever will.

--

The clock on my wall said it was just after 7 pm the following night when there was a knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way across the room, pressing my eye to the peephole, slightly surprised at who I saw.

I had figured he would come for me at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to be the very moment he got back into town.

…but it isn’t the very moment, I reminded myself. JJ had texted saying their plane was landing at 5 pm this afternoon.

He didn’t knock again but he didn’t move away from the door either. I think he knew I was there, just out of his reach, debating my options.

Opening yourself up to something that might hurt you is one of the most foolish and brave things a person can do. When someone you cared about broke your trust, how could you put your heart back into those very same hands?

I remembered Gideon’s words from that afternoon before they had left for New Orleans.

Over the past several days I had realized that that day in the copy room it wasn’t actually my Spencer that said those things. Something dark and painful had clawed its way into him and was trying to hollow him out.

That dark thing didn’t deserve my mercy…but I think Spencer did.

With a deep breath, I started to unlock my front door, grateful he couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. He looked tired but a different sort of tired than I was used to seeing. Weariness had crawled underneath his skin and was draining him slowly, but he didn’t look as defeated as he did the last time I saw him.

No matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still wasn’t sure what to say

“I came…I came to explain.” He said at last.

I was still frozen in place watching him shift uncomfortably. I knew he wanted me to invite him in…but, how could I? Trusting him enough to talk to him was one thing but how could I allow him into the only place I felt safe?

Gideon’s words played through my mind again. Mercy.

Taking a step back from the door, I waved him inside. I moved to sit on the couch, but Spencer just stood in front of me.

"When Tobias abducted me…" he trailed off, balling his hands into fists. "He had dissociative identity disorder. It's much more rare than people think. Whenever it's been observed under clinical settings, the most that has been observed is 2. Tobias had three.

The first was him, the next was his father, and the last was the Archangel, Raphael. Tobias’s father abused him horribly… Charles broke something inside of him, he fractured him. The only way he could survive was to start abusing drugs. He took them intravenously.”

Gideon's words had started to weave the pieces together, but it was actually Spencer's words from our night together that cemented everything in place. “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”

"He thought he was being kind when he injected me." Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his tongue against his upper lip. "You hear about addiction; I could tell you the statistics on people who suffer from opioid addiction. But I never in a million years thought it would be me.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell from my face and hit the back of my hand.

“I’m not the person who gets addicted to things. I’m not the stereotypical picture of an addict…but that’s what I am, y/n. I’m an addict.” He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a small coin. “This is a newcomer’s chip…from narcotics anonymous. You get it at your very first meeting. I got this an hour ago.”

“Spencer,” I rasped out. “I’m so sorry.”

He came to sit beside me on the couch then, his hand covering one of mine. "I thought I could handle it. I convinced myself it wasn't that bad, but it was. What I did to you was reprehensible, y/n. And I am so sorry." Spencer's voice broke, his shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. "I will be sorry about that day for the rest of my life. I don't deserve any sort of second chance."

I turned completely towards him, throwing my arms around him. “Yes, you do, Spencer,” I whispered into his hair. “You do.”

This night felt so much different than the first night I held him like this while he cried. I didn't know the cause of his pain that night, but it broke my heart nevertheless; now that I knew the pain inside this beautiful man…I think the pain I had been feeling was tearing at my soul.

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. It’s a disease that will sink its hooks into anyone and refuse to let go. Spencer had made a mistake; his actions had gutted me. But…was it really him? Or was it the monster that has hold of him? It was in these thoughts that I finally began to understand the weight of Agent Gideon's words. "He’ll need mercy from everyone…but from no one more than you.”

I wasn’t in love with Spencer…at least not yet, but I did love him. In those moments when loving someone felt impossible mercy was the most important thing you could offer. I had to show him my mercy while he moved through this…because I knew love would come later.

“I’m here for you, Spencer. I want to help you in any way I can.”

He pulled back, his wide brown eyes meeting mine. “I can’t ask you to battle my addiction for me, y/n. I wouldn’t even if I could.” His voice was earnest when he spoke, his hands coming up to cup my face with a touch that seemed so familiar. “I promise that I’m going to try. I’m going to mess up at some point, some moments will be harder than others. I can’t…I can’t be perfect at this. But I promise I will never stop trying.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Spencer. You’re not worthy because you’re perfect. You’re worthy because you’re…you.”

His eyes were soft when they ran over my face, his hands coming up to cup my jaw again. “I can leave, if you want…I know you’ll need time…I can’t expect-“

I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just be with me. Be here with me, Spence.”

I'm not sure who moved first. It was like all the pain in my body gave way to such a burning need that it almost consumed me. Our lips barely broke apart when I pulled him from the couch, guiding him to my bedroom; our actions were so similar to what they had been on that first night that felt like a lifetime ago.

But everything was different.

My bedroom was lit only by the dusky orange glow from the setting sun. I didn’t get to question Spencer about anything. His hands moved urgently against my body, ridding me of my shirt and bra. I unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to push it off of his shoulders. My nails scored his chest while his mouth moved down to kiss the column of my throat.

Spencer’s knee was wedged between my thighs when his mouth closed over my nipple. My hands tried to move down to undo his pants but when his teeth tugged at the tip of my breast all I could do was whimper.

“Spencer. Please.”

His eyes opened and lifted to meet mine. He looked nervous for a moment before he started to kiss down my body. I lifted my hips to help him remove my pants. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, I realized he had never seen me in the light before.

I felt his index finger trace down my slit, spreading me open under his gaze. He swallowed thickly when one of his fingers entered me, pulling a moan from my throat.

“Can I?”

“Yes. Yes.” I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I would have given him anything in that moment.

I wasn’t ready when I felt his tongue tentatively lick my pussy. My hips bucked off the bed causing him to chuckle.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he spread me wider. He inserted another finger into my heat while his tongue fluttered around my clit.

“I’m trying,” I whined. “Fuck. I thought you said you hadn’t done this before.”

Spencer lifted his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. “I haven’t,” he replied, his voice needlessly smug. Before I could comment his lips closed around my clit again.

My fingers were tangled in his soft brown hair while my hips rocked against his mouth. “Spencer, I’m close. I want-fuck! I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

He rose up on his knees, his hands moving to his belt. He had looked reluctant to leave his current position, but I needed him now. "You can eat my pussy to your heart's content later."

Spencer’s hand froze, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just…you said later.” The confusion must have been plain on my face because he clarified, “I can have you later too.”

My arousal was still pulsing in my body but now something else was too. I knew he didn’t mean sex when he said he could have me; Spencer meant he could have me, he could be with me.

With that thought, I urged him up my body so I could press my lips to his again. We were still kissing when I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against me before he slowly pushed inside of me.

“You…I didn’t know something could feel like this,” he said when his hips settled against mine,

I didn’t either.

I think he must have felt the same frantic need I did. His thrusts were forceful as he drove into me. I was already so close that I could feel myself approaching my peak.

“Spence,” I whimpered out.

“I know, I feel you. You’re right there.” He reached between our bodies and rubbed his thumb across my clit.

My back arched as my orgasm washed over me, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. After a few more thrusts, I felt Spencer find his release too. He whispered my name against my hair while he slowly came down, pressing soft kisses all over any part of my skin he could reach.

--

The frantic mood from before had lifted, but something still felt urgent. Spencer had gotten up a few moments ago to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He hadn’t removed his clothes again, and something about the energy in the room made me put my clothes back on too.

I was sitting at the end of my bed when he came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked resigned and…almost defeated.

“Spence,” I started but he just shook his head.

He came to stand in front of me before he spoke. “I have to…I can’t hide from you.”

I stood up before he could move. “You’re not hiding anything, Spencer. Not anymore.”

He pressed his lips against mine again. I think he understood the gravity of my words and what revealing his body meant. He knew I’d see him; I’d see all of him. But whenever I looked into his eyes when he started to open his shirt, I felt like I saw more of him than I ever had.

Everything he felt was floating through his amber-colored eyes. His hands shook and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he pulled his shirt from his body.

The bend of his left elbow was covered in bruises in all different phases of healing. It looked like one of his veins might even have blown.

When I brought my eyes back up to his, I found them shut tight.

“Hey,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle, careful of his arm. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he breathed out.

I only held him tighter. “It will be. One day it will be.” I let out a shaky breath of my own before I spoke again. “You know I’m going to fall in love with you one day, right?”

His body jerked at my words, a tiny sob leaving his mouth.

“It’s true, Spencer. You have to know that. You’re worthy of love. You’re worthy of my love.”

He pulled back from me, his hands cradling my face while his eyes searched mine. “I’m not. I’m not worthy…but I’m going to try to be.”

The slashes and cracks in my heart didn’t feel so painful when I kissed him again. It wasn’t my job to fix him. It wasn’t his job to fix me.

But I could show him mercy while he fought his battle. He deserved that.

Everyone deserves that.

--

Taglist: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool @andiebeaword @imjusthereformggcontent @rainsong01 @violentvulgarvolatile @mys2425 @al3xmnd @imfalling-inlove @cielo1984 @shadyladyperfection @kissingvalentino @goofygubler14​ @hopebaker​

[reidgraygubler]

night changes (spencer reid/reader)

Title: night changes Requested: no Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader Category: smut Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (virgin!reader, virgin!spencer, loss of virginity (Spencer and Reader), penetrive sex, unprotected sex, fingering, heavy petting, groping/grinding), making out, cuddling, awkward moments, ssn2 Spencer, mentions of drinking Word Count: 5,705 Summary: Spencer and Reader have a lot of firsts together. A/N: I was listening to one direction with my sisters and the song night changes came on and it made me think about spencer and reader being each other’s first. Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Something I hated about the BAU team was that no one’s secrets were safe. Once one person knew something about you, the rest of the team quickly found out. Secrets weren’t safe with anyone. Unfortunately for me, I was still learning that about the team.

I was the youngest and newest member. Recently joined a year after Spencer Reid, and was a year younger than him. Everyone on the team instantly thought us to be friends since we were so close in age, as well as being the newest to the team. Truth is, outside of work, we didn’t really hang out. Everyone thought we did, but we didn’t. 

I’d be a big fat liar though, if I said I didn’t have a crush on him. He’s cute, funny, and genuine. I don’t think he pitied me because I was the youngest, but part of me definitely did think that.

To be honest though, I think everyone on the team pitied me, except for Gideon. I really only got this job- which started off as an internship- because of Gideon, he was my uncle after all. 

One night, Penelope had invited the women of the team over for girls’ night. And that particular night I had too many drinks and let them know a secret. A secret I wished no one knew. It’s not something I should exactly be ashamed of, though. 

I’m a 24 year old virgin. But, like I said, I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Just compared to the other women on the team… It was a little embarrassing. I was just happy that they all agreed to keep their mouths shut and not tease me about it in front of the others.

That didn’t last too long… Because Derek freaking Morgan wanted to play Truth or Dare the one night we all had to stay late to finish paperwork. He claimed it was “To keep us young”. A bullshit of a claim if you ask me.

“Truth or Dare? Are you serious? What are we, 12?” I scoffed before sipping my tea. Spencer looked over his glasses at me with a raised brow. Derek scowled as he looked at me.

“Truth or dare, Sunshine?” He asked as he kept his eyes on me as I shuffled through the paperwork on my desk. I rubbed my forehead with the pads of my finger tips before looking over at him with pure annoyance on my face.

“Truth,” I stated firmly. I just hope my annoyance was known. 

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“How mature.”

“When was it?” 

“Derek, please…” I looked at him as I pleaded. I really didn’t want to let this out. “Three nights ago,” I lied as I looked down at the papers on my desk. Derek catcalled while everyone else just stayed silent.

“Seriously?”

“No. Not three nights ago. Unless it was with some guy in Arizona,” I scoffed, pointing out that we were on a case, in Arizona, at that time. Derek looked at me with a raised brow. “It’s been a while,” I lied again. I pressed my hand to my face, hoping to leave it at that.

“That’s not what I was told,” JJ whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear. I pulled my hand away from my face and looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Jennifer,” I warned. She looked away from me the moment my eyes locked with hers. My heart dropped to my stomach, and an anxious feeling bubbled up my throat. 

“What does she mean, Sunshine?” Derek looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I let out a deep sigh before pressing both my hands to my face.

When I finally pulled my hands away from my face and looked around the room, I noted that everyone was looking my way. Everyone except for Aaron and Jason. Thank God they were in their own conversation and not listening to the childish conversations the rest of the team were having. 

“You’re a profiler. You figure it out,” I shrugged as I looked right at Derek. JJ and Emily shared a look as I stared at him.

“I might be a profiler. But you’ve given me no information…” Derek squinted at me as he spoke. I stared at him, staying quiet while he figured it out. I shifted slightly in my seat as I waited for his next “deduction”.

But I didn’t have to wait for his continuation. Because someone else had something to say, someone who had been quiet the entire time this was going on.

“You’re a virgin,” Spencer spoke out of nowhere. I looked over at him with wide eyes. I could feel heat grow ablaze across my face as I stared at him. If my silence wasn’t enough of an answer, I’m not sure what was. 

“Oh our little Sunshine is a late bloomer. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” Derek smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him.

“I hate all of you,” I muttered as I put all my things in my bag. 

“C’mon we were just messing around.” Derek tried to stop me as I stood. I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah, at the expense of my personal life,” I gestured at myself out of annoyance. “I’m gonna finish these at home. If anyone needs me I’ll be there. I’ll see you guys then.” I shrugged as I walked towards the elevators.

I couldn’t help the angered noises that escaped my mouth. Of course Spencer Reid would figure it out of all the people there. 

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” A voice shouted from behind me as I got closer to the doors. I froze just as my fingers hovered over the buttons of the elevator. “Wait!” 

“I’m waiting, Spencer,” I muttered as I withdrew my hand away from the buttons. He appeared beside me and pressed the buttons for me. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to.” He looked over at me as he spoke. I looked back at him and shrugged.

“It’s not your fault. It’s Derek’s,” I muttered as I stepped on the elevator. Spencer stepped on beside me.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.” Spencer looked over at me as he spoke. I glanced at him and shrugged. 

“Yeah, well it feels like a bad thing when everyone on the team has had sex except for me,” I sighed deeply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asked, sounding almost offended with my statement. I looked at him and laughed.

“We can’t all be Lila Archer or Jennifer Jareau, Spencer,” I shyly smiled at him. I had known about Lila Archer and what had happened between them. And I even knew what happened between him and JJ. 

“I’m still a virgin,” he stated so calmly that I almost didn’t take him seriously.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I’ve never had sex with anyone.” 

“But…” my words trailed off, as did my train of thought. Spencer looked at me with a smile before he shrugged. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” he whispered before he stepped off the elevator.

{***}{***}{***}

It felt almost impossible to breathe. I don’t have time to explain why it felt impossible to breathe, it was just hard. Spencer Reid was coming over… Not just as a friend. No, he was coming over for a date. 

Like I said, I didn’t have time to explain. Three striking knocks on the door pulled me from my own thoughts. I looked over at it with wide eyes before I swallowed roughly. 

I straightened out a few things sitting on the coffee table, and myself, before I rushed to the door. When I pulled it open, Spencer was standing on the other side. He was looking down at me with a smile. 

He was wearing a dark blue, chunky sweater over a white button up and black tie. Black slacks hugged his hips, and black dress shoes covered his feet. Glasses sat on his nose, in front of his eyes, and his hair was combed over to the side. 

The difficult feeling of not being able to breathe returned quickly the longer I stared at him. To be fair, he stared back at me, a small smile growing on his lips. I hated how long we stayed quiet as we stared at each other. 

“H-Hi,” Spencer finally spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded as I hid behind the door a bit more.

“Hi,” I whispered as I stared at him. 

“Are… Are you going to let me in?” he asked softly. I jumped once I realized he was still standing outside. I stepped away from the door and pulled it open more, silently inviting him in.

“S-Sorry. I just…” I watched as he walked into my living room. He turned and looked at me, watching as I shut and locked the door. 

“It’s okay. I was a little nervous walking up the driveway,” he nervously laughed. I smiled and nodded.

“Well! I have snacks! And… And water! I don’t have a movie queued up yet because I wasn’t sure what you wanted to watch…” I held my hands together as I walked into the living room a bit more.

“Oh! We can…”

“I have a bunch of Disney movies… If you want to watch a Disney movie. Have you seen Emperor’s New Groove?” I asked, as I nervously pulled at my fingertips. Spencer looked at my hands before looking up at my face. I hope he could pick up on the anxiety I was feeling. And if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. Thankfully.

“No, I haven’t. Is it good?” 

“I’ll put it on.” I nervously smiled before going to my TV to get the movie ready. Spencer quietly took a seat on the couch as I put the DVD in the DVD player. Once the movie was in, I stood up and went to join him. I sat on the opposite end of the couch.

Of course, by the time we got to the halfway point of the movie, I was sitting closer to him, and even holding his hand. It did take a little convincing for him to do that though. 

And then we were at the end. The credits were about 5 minutes away from rolling. My head rested on his shoulder. We were very comfortable with the little bit of cuddling that was happening. 

“Hey Spencer…” I mumbled, as I lifted my head off his shoulder. Spencer looked over at me with a mildly worried look in his eyes. “C-Can we kiss?” 

“Y-you want… I’m sorry, you want to kiss… Me?” he asked as he looked at me. I looked back at his face and nodded. I quickly looked down and away from him once I realized how stupid that question was.

“We don’t have to… It was just a silly question… I was just thinking about our conversation the other day… And, well… Just ignore me,” I muttered as I waved off the question. I hated this feeling that I felt. 

“Silly question?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Do you… Want to kiss?” 

‘Well yeah, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.’ I thought to myself. I looked up at Spencer, and nodded. I didn’t trust myself enough to speak. 

“R-Right now?” 

“Like I said, we don’t-” my thought was cut off by Spencer awkwardly resting his hand on my face and bringing my face to his. Our lips lightly touched.

I don’t know why I do these things to myself. Because I almost couldn’t breathe just with the thought of kissing him. But now it’s actually happening and I was holding my breath. 

Spencer’s lips were soft, yet mildly chapped. He was so gentle, and I loved it. I loved every moment of it. While one of his hands held my face, his other hand held mine. It made me feel calm and safe. But Spencer had that effect on me. He carefully moved his head and deepened the kiss. Our noses smushed together as he moved. 

After a few moments passed, we pulled away from each other. I kept still and my eyes closed. My body was trying to regulate itself and teach itself to breathe again.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked after a moment of silence. I swallowed roughly and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m… Okay.” 

“Was that up to your expectations?”

“Honestly?” I asked and looked at him. He nodded his head lightly. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” I whispered. 

I don’t know a lot of things. But I do know this kiss was the best thing to happen to me. {***}{***}{***}

The kiss was… several weeks ago and nothing came of it. Everything went back to normal after the date and we didn’t speak of it. I learned my lesson though and didn’t give any details to the other women of the team. 

Just when I thought things were okay, Spencer and I were forced to share a room while on a case. I never had an issue before sharing a room with him. But this was the first time we’d be spending time alone together since the date and kiss.  And to make matters even worse for both of us… it wasn't just the room we were sharing. It was the bed too.

The tension in the room was high. It was just a kiss for christ’s sake. It was the bed that made it awkward. If we had two queens, like we were told, I’m sure there’d be no awkwardness about this. But unfortunately for both of us… We didn’t get the two queens.

Spencer sat on the far side and I sat on the other side of the bed. There was enough space between us to allow at least another adult to join us. He was reading a book, whereas I was reading over the file. 

I hated the tension in the room.

“I’m going to shower,” Spencer announced to the room. I looked away from the folder I was holding and at him.

“Okay. Good luck,” I smiled softly at him. He looked back at me and nodded before entering the bathroom. I dropped my file to my lap before slipping off the bed and going to the fridge. He was a quick shower person, so I doubt he’ll be in there too long. I just had to keep busy till he came back out, then I could go to sleep. I don’t want him worrying about waking me up. 

Once I had a snack, I returned to my seat on the bed. Deciding I was finished with the gory details of the case file, I clicked the television on, going through the channels before deciding to shut it off. Why would anything good be on TV in a hotel in the middle of nowhere? Sitting in the silence of the room was better than the garbage soap operas.

After about 10 minutes of my loneliness, the bathroom door opened, and out stepped Spencer, with just a towel around his waist. It was so hard to keep my eyes off him. This was torturous… This was honest to God all on him. He probably knew what he was doing.

“Forgot my clothes.” He looked at me with an awkward smile as he lifted his clothes. I looked up at his face and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah,” I whispered as I looked at the apple core in my hand. 

Sure. I’m sure that’s exactly what you did.

I watched as he quickly went back into the bathroom. I closed my eyes just as he looked back at me. I silently prayed that he didn’t notice my staring. But who am I to kid? It’s Spencer freaking Reid. He definitely noticed me staring.

Spencer came back out, this time wearing his pajamas, which consisted of a matching set of a light blue button up sleep shirt, and light blue bottoms, five minutes later.  He quietly took his spot on his side of the bed, sitting on the very edge. I hated how much space was between us, and I hated how tense it was. 

The silence in the room was only occupied by the pages of Spencer’s book being turned. I hated the silence too. It was hard to say how much time passed, but it was a while before anything was said. 

I looked over at him, watching him for a moment before saying, “Is everything okay?” I paused and swallowed roughly. “Between us, I mean?” I looked at Spencer with a worried crease in my brow. He looked back at me, a confused expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, why wouldn’t we be? Did somethin-”

“We’ve been walking on eggshells since we kissed each other. And that was so long ago, Spencer. I was just making sure…”

“No, nothing’s wrong between us. I promise.” 

“You were my first kiss, you know,” I whispered as I looked up at him. He looked back at me with a nervous look in his eyes. 

“I wish I could say you were mine…” Spencer returned with a certain sadness in his words. He moved so he was standing between my legs. 

“It was a damn good first kiss, too,” I laughed sadly. Spencer raised an eyebrow before grasping both my hands. “I like you, you know,” I finally looked up at him, “And I have for a while.”

“I like you, too,” he finally said, as he placed his book on the night stand.

“No, not like… I like like you, Spencer. Not as a friend,” I muttered as I looked away.

“I know,” he whispered. I looked up at him, feeling my heart leap to my throat. “Me too.”

I really thought he just liked me as ‘just friends’. I thought that for a while, too. But why else would he kiss me? Maybe it was a pity kiss? But it was such a nice kiss. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Spencer nodded with a bright smile. I smiled as he reached for my hand. “I was surprised when you asked to kiss me because I didn’t think you liked me that way.”

“Why else would I ask you to kiss me?!”

“Well… I don’t know.”

“K-Kiss me again… If you like me, kiss me again,” I whispered, as I looked up at his face. Spencer looked back at me before slowly leaning over to me. 

Our lips met in a tender kiss. And after a brief moment, we both deepened it. My hands lifted to hold his face as Spencer moved to straddle my waist. My body slowly slipped down the bed, and Spencer followed along. I laid down, perfectly on the pillow with Spencer holding himself over me. It was like there was a silent understanding. We both wanted more, but we didn’t want to be vocal about it… yet.

Something was about to change tonight… Actually, a lot of things were going to change tonight.

Spencer wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting my body up into his. He delicately pressed his hips into mine, prompting a soft moan to come from me. My fingers got tangled in his hair, gently tugging at it. I quickly brought my hands to hold his face, keeping him in place. Another soft moan fell from my lips, causing Spencer to freeze. I didn’t mean to moan. It was just an accident.

“Wait, wait,” Spencer breathed out against my lips. “We should seriously think about this before we do anything else,” he said as he pushed away from me. I looked up at him with eyes.

He quickly rushed off the bed, almost falling into the dresser. I sat up a little bit and watched as he paced back and forth in front of the bed. Seriously think about it before anything happens… And if nothing happens, nothing happens, it’ll be fine.

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting. Spencer stood a few feet away, talking to himself. I understood why though. I mean, I was talking to myself too, trying to get myself off the edge. My heart was going a million miles an hour, like I was a roadrunner outrunning a coyote. 

Spencer continued walking back and forth, his hands going through his hair as he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him before I spoke. "We don't have to have sex-" 

"I know," Spencer cut me off before looking over at me. I lifted my arms to cover my chest as he stared. "I want to. I want to do this," he stepped closer to me. “You’re the person I want to do this with.”

I looked at him, watching as he lifted a hand to my face. 

“I want to do this with you too, but if you’re going to think so hard about it… Maybe we shouldn’t,” I whispered as I brought a hand to his. A small smile grew across his lips before he nodded.

“I agree. I want to do this. However… I’m ready. I’m not thinking too hard about it. And I want to do this with you,” he repeated.

“I want to do this with you, too.” I smiled softly. Spencer smiled again before meeting to kiss me. 

As he continued kissing, we moved back up on the bed. Just like before, his arms wrapped around my waist. His hips ground against mine, eliciting another soft moan from me. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling at it and the buttons to rip it open. Neither of us cared that buttons popped off and flew all over. 

My fingers danced up and down his chest, tracing over the faint definition on his chest. Spencer smiled softly against my mouth. He pulled one of his hands away from my back, and rested it at the top of my shorts, right on my bare hip.

“Keep… Keep touching me,” I mumbled as I held his face close to mine. A small, but nervous, smile grew across his lips as he slipped his hand up my shirt. His fingers danced along my sides as he worked his way up to my bra. My breathing slowly grew ragged as he brushed against the hooks of my bra. “M-More,” I stumbled over my words.

Spencer laughed softly as he struggled to unhook my bra. I smiled once the hooks were undone. His hand was so gentle over my breast that it took my breath away. He massaged the supple skin, causing soft moans to come from me. I took a deep breath as he continued rolling his hips into the thin fabric of my pajama shorts. It was intoxicating how large his bulge felt between my legs, nearly breathtaking.  

I needed more from him. He wasn’t touching me enough. 

“I-I need more,” I cried against his lips. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes filled and blown out from the lust. He carefully brought his hand back down to my shorts. My stomach flinched at the delicate touches he made before he was cupping over my clothed sex.

My body instinctively moved away from him. When Spencer sensed my slight uneasiness, he went to remove his hand. But I stopped him, grabbing his wrist and keeping his hand against me. When he realized that this was really what I wanted, he nodded lightly before carefully pushing past the waistband of my pants. 

“Is this okay?” Spencer murmured against my lips. I gasped lightly as his finger moved against me. 

“I-It feels so good, Spencer,” I gasped as his movements hastened. I threw my arms around his neck before pulling him lower to me. I quickly buried my face in the nape of his neck. Soft and strangled moans fell from my lips, into his skin. 

Any conversation between us stopped, and the room was filled with my pitiful moans. Everything he was doing felt so good, any thought I had quickly went away the moment it came. 

“Keep going…” I breathed out. I could feel a tension in my stomach, getting close to popping. It was impossible to stay quiet at this point. Spencer gently pressed a finger into my entrance. The heel of his palm brushed against my clit, causing me to squeal from pleasure and excitement.

 I just hope no one else on the team was in the neighboring rooms… 

“I’m so close, Spen-Ahh.” My words were cut off by a louder moan than before. 

Spencer kept his movements going as he started to whisper soft nothings into my ear. When he started pressing his lips against my jawbone, everything came crashing in. My body jerked slightly and my moans got a little louder. It felt as if the only thing I could say was Spencer’s name. 

Once I was for sure down from my high, Spencer looked down at me with an amused expression on his face.

“W-wait, that’s not it.” I brought my hands back to his face. Spencer smiled and nodded. 

“No that’s not it. I don’t want that to be it,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine. He guided me back up so I was in a sitting position. I pushed my hands over his shoulders, pushing his shirt off in one go. Then I moved my hands to his sweats. 

“Are we really about to do this?” I asked, mostly to myself, as I played with the drawstrings of his sweats. 

“We do-”

“You keep saying that and it makes me think you don’t want this,” I pointed out as I lifted my head to look at him. But what I didn’t realize was how close his head was to mine, causing me to bash my head into his face. “Oh my god! Are you okay!? I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Spencer spoke as he held his face. I looked at him and nodded. I was so happy his nose wasn’t bleeding. That would’ve killed the moment way more than it was already.

“Well, now I’m sure you don’t want to make love with me,” I mumbled as I looked away. Spencer quickly brought his hand to my face, coaxing me to look at him. 

“I never said that. It was an accident.” 

“So you do?” 

Instead of answering me with words, Spencer pressed his lips back to mine. I took a deep breath as he started pulling my shirt off. Our shirts, and my bra both sat on the floor in a pitiful pile. His hands went back to my shorts, helping me take them off. 

Spencer pushed me back against the bed before pulling his pants off. I looked up at him as he moved to hover over me. I could feel my breathing pick up, feeling my chest tighten the more serious this moment got. 

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked from between my legs. I watched as he carefully lowered so he was closer to my face. 

"I'm sure, I'm ready," I whispered and looked up at him. "Are you sure?" 

"Positive," he whispered with a smile. He gently grabbed one of my hands off my chest and held it beside my head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. I realized my words didn't sound too convincing. But I swear I was fine. "Just scared."

"You don't have to be scared. Nothing bad is going to happen,” he whispered. Part of me almost said, out loud, ‘That we know of’ but my excitement was bigger than my terror. 

"I know… I'm just… I freaked myself out. That's all." I nervously chuckled. Spencer smiled before carefully pecking my lips. "I mean, we made it this far…"

"It's not too late to back down now."

"No, I know… I want this. Please. Please tell me you want it too."

"I only want to do this with you," he whispered. He lifted our hands up and pressed his lips to my knuckles, "Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah," I whispered. My free hand quickly fell away from my chest and then grasped the sheet beside me. My grip was so tight that I was partly worried there’d be holes in the cloth when we were finished.

Spencer looked down at me with a kindness in his eyes. My legs were parted and sat on either side of him, making for easy access. He carefully pressed the head of his cock at my still sensitive sex. My eyes fell shut and my head tilted back as he pressed into me. 

It was slow at first. Spencer pressed into me inch by inch every few seconds. Once he was fully in me, we both froze, trying to adjust to each other. My legs tensed the moment he bottomed out. Every ounce of air that was in me was knocked from my lungs. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at Spencer. He was off in another world, his eyes glued to where our bodies met. I wondered what was going through his head at what he saw and what he was feeling. I just knew what I was feeling and saw.

Which was, I felt amazing and complete. And Spencer looked ethereal in this very moment. We fit together like a puzzle piece. Everyone always said sex was overrated and boring. But I was ready to argue that. I loved this intimacy between us.

Spencer finally looked up at me with a small smile. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do, exactly. Granted I wasn’t entirely sure what to do either. 

“M-Move,” I instructed, as I lifted for his hands. He widened his eyes once he realized what he was doing. He grasped my hand before starting to roll his hips like before. A high pitched whine came from my throat as he moved slowly.

Spencer looked down at me with a concerned look in his eyes. He cautiously moved so his face was over mine. I swallowed roughly and looked up at him.

“Are you- Is this okay?” Spencer’s voice was gentle as he held my face. I bit my lips together and nodded lightly. My muscles clenched around him once the pleasure slowly started to build up again.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just… Keep going, please,” I whimpered against his lips. Spencer nodded, again, before pressing his lips to mine. 

“God, you feel so good! I-I’ve never felt anything like you,” Spencer moaned into my ear. Another moan came from the pit of my stomach. 

I couldn’t stop myself when my hips jerked up to meet his, intensifying the feelings. As Spencer continued to move his hips against me, our lips stayed together. My hands cupped his face as we moaned into each other's mouths. 

“W-Wait, I wanna. I wanna see,” I murmured against his lips before pushing him away. He looked down at me with pure adoration in his eyes, watching as I looked down at where we connected. And then I realized why he was staring for so long. I quickly looked back up at him with wide eyes. “You also feel so good.” I smiled weakly, as my fingers slipped down to hold his jaw. Spencer returned the smile before pressing his lips to mine. “I love you,” I breathlessly whispered. He looked at me with a soft smile and nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

It was hard to say how much longer we both lasted, but it wasn’t too long. His movements quickened, but also grew sloppy the closer he got. I quickly moved a hand between our bodies and began moving my fingers over my clit. 

“Cum with me, please,” Spencer begged into my ear. I gasped and nodded. After a few more faulty movements, I came, and moments later Spencer came, filling me with an unfamiliar warmth in my stomach. 

Spencer fell onto the bed beside me. His breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath. I smiled as I looked at him, moving closer to him as I continued to crave his touch.

“I didn’t know you knew what to do,” I laughed nervously as I looked up at him. Spencer laughed as he looked back down at me. 

“N-Neither did I… I just continued doing whatever was making you moan,” he returned the laughter before moving closer to me. I smiled when he wrapped his arms around me. “Was it everything you were expecting?”

“I’m not sure what I was expecting… But yeah, it was.” I smiled and nodded. I looked up at him, watching as his features softened. “You?

“Amazing, because I did it with you.” 

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” I smiled before reaching to kiss him. “I should shower… I hate the feeling of sweat and,” I paused for a moment, thinking about how raunchy what I was about to say was. “Cum... dripping from my body.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to mine. “I’ll wait till you get out to clean-”

“You can come with, Weirdo.” I pulled his hand and dragged him out of the bed.

{***}{***}{***}

“Heard this weird noise coming from the room next over from mine,” Derek spoke as he looked over at Spencer. I choked on my coffee and looked down at the table with wide eyes. “You get lucky last night, Pretty Boy?”

“Uh, I… Well…”

“Yeah, that’s… We were hearing weird noises from the room next to ours, too,” Emily pointed out as she looked at JJ. I swallowed roughly. I could feel my cheeks instantly heating up with everything that was about to happen.

“Who’s the lucky lady, Reid?” Derek asked. I looked over at Spencer, watching as his face turned three shades red. 

“Well, who’s the lucky guy?” JJ looked at me with a smirk. Emily and  Derek looked at each other, before looking at Spencer and I.

“No-” 

“-You guys didn’t.” They spoke over each other once they realized what we had done.

“Hey, Spencer, truth or dare?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth…”

“Did we have sex last night?”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

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