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love-hs28 · 6 months ago

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You're the strongest person I've ever known.

Summary: JJ’s had another fight with his dad and needs some comfort and help cleaning up. CW: same stuff that’s in the show gn!reader Routledge!reader, but doesn't really effect the story Hurt/comfort & fluff 1.3k words Posted on: 5-24-24

a/n: This is my first post ever, lmk if you guys like it! Been wanting to start posting my stuff on here for a while and figured what better time to than now!

It’s almost 2 am when you hear a knocking on your window. You had been lying awake since you got home from the party and already know that it's JJ, so you get up to open it. You slide the glass open with a smile and he climbs in.

“Hey Jay,”

As he’s setting his foot down, he loses his balance a bit and you have to place your hands on his shoulders to steady him. It’s already obvious that he’s a bit drunk.

“Whoa, hey, careful,”

You hear him groan as he attempts to straighten up, and he hobbles over to flop down on your desk chair. You’re not new to this, and know what this behavior usually means.

“Had a fight with my dad. I’m fine. Just wanted to, uh, come over,” He groans again as he adjusts himself to sit more comfortably, and you sigh and come over to kneel in front of him.

You tilt your head down to get a better look at him, and gently put a hand on the side of his face to angle it towards the dim moonlight. The room is too dark for you to see any damage that’s been done, and he hisses at the contact.

“Shit, sorry,” You quickly take your hand away but he grabs it and holds it against his chest. He sets his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, knowing what comes next.

“Can I see?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He does a combination of shaking and nodding his head and reluctantly looks up, but avoids eye contact and looks just to the right of your face. There’s enough light on him now to see a black eye forming and the cuts on his lip and cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and squeeze his hand. It’s not hard to imagine what the rest of his body looks like.

“Oh, Jay,” you whisper, and he shakes his head and squeezes your hand back.

“I’m alright, y/n. Just a little roughed up. ‘s good for building character, right?” He laughs softly, but the tears in his eyes tell more than his words. You know he uses humor to cope, and your heart breaks at the sad smile on his face.

You stand up, not letting go of his hand, and lead him to your bathroom.

You softly pat the counter next to the sink as a signal for him to take a seat, and he does. You open the bathroom closet and grab the first aid kid, careful to keep quiet so as to not wake John B. You can see JJ watching you with a loving but tired look in his eyes that causes you to slightly blush.

As you’re setting up the supplies on the counter, he gently puts a hand to the side of your face, halting your movements. He smiles drunkenly and uses his other hand to brush the hair from your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your pajama shorts.

You smile and gently rub his thigh. You whisper back “So are you,” and gently kiss his less-hurt cheek and get back to setting up the supplies.

JJ starts swinging his feet, accidentally kicking the counter and earning a soft glare from you, which he just chuckles at.

“Yeah, but you’re beautifuler. Most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he sighs, still staring deep into your eyes, and you grab the alcohol and put some on a cotton ball.

“Oh, you’re too sweet” you say, and brush his hair out of his face. “Alright, this might sting a little. You can hold on to me if you want.”

JJ messily shakes his head, “‘s okay. I’m strong.”

You look into his eyes sadly with a little sad smile, “I know you are,” Regardless of his strength, he sets his hands on your waist preparing for the all too familiar pain.

You gently dab at the cuts on his cheek and lip and he hisses and closes his eyes, trying to act strong in front of you, but squeezing hard on your hips.

“I’m sorry honey, almost done,” You dab a few more times and wipe a few until it looks clean enough. You softly kiss his forehead and he rests it on your shoulder. His breathing feels heavy against you.

“You’re okay, Jay. You’re safe now, I’m right here. I got you,” You rub his back and he starts to cry a bit. He looks up at you with a shaky lip.

“I’m sorry. I hate that you have to see me like this. I just didn’t know where else to go.” His voice is shaking and your heart breaks as you shake your head and put a hand to his face to brush his hair.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came to me. Come to me everytime, please. Seeing you like this doesn’t make me think you’re weak. It makes me think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known and I hate that you have to go through this shit.” A tear rolls down your cheek and he gently wipes it.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

Bitting your bottom lip between your teeth to stop it from shaking, you shake your head and look down to get the bandages. When you look back up at him he’s looking at you with so much emotion that you feel your heart skip a few beats.

“I love you.” He says, and pulls you in by your waist.

“I love you more” you say, and lean into him and hug him close, careful to avoid his abdomen, which you’re 99% sure is covered in bruises.

You hug for a minute or two, giving you both the chance to calm your breathing, and you eventually lean back and quickly wipe your eyes.

You brush the hair out of his face again, “Let me get these bandages on you and then we can head to bed, yeah?”

He nods and lets his eyes fall shut, hands not leaving your waist. After covering up the cuts on his face, you look up at him reluctantly.

“Can I.. Could you lift up your shirt? I just want to make sure nothing else needs, um, tending to.”

He slowly nods and lifts his t-shirt up, exposing the bottom few inches of his torso. Your hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth and you choke in a sob as you see the bruises already beginning to form on his stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine how he must feel.

JJ shakes his head and uses his hand to gently guide you to look back into his eyes.

“Hey. No crying, remember? I’m okay, promise. They’ll be gone in a few days. Week tops. Nothin we can do about it, you know?”

You can't get your eyes to meet his, and bite your lip to stop it from shaking as he pulls you in for another hug. You grip onto his shirt for a minute, then he leans back to kiss you gently.

“You look tired. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

You shake your head and kiss his hand. “No, don’t be, I was awake when you got here, couldn’t sleep.”

JJ tilts his head with a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

You softly laugh and shake your head, setting your hands on his knees and looking into his eyes. “You’re sitting here on my sink all beaten up and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

He returns the soft laugh and rubs your cheek with his thumb.

“What did I do to deserve you,” you whisper as you look deep into his eyes and gently rub his leg. JJ looks at you like you’ve just said something crazy.

“You kidding? I should be the one asking that. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re my everything. My best friend. My favorite person.”

You try harder not to cry, failing a bit, and moving the remaining few inches closer to rest your forehead on his, pressing a soft kiss to his cut lips.

You eventually have to put the first aid stuff away, and you take one more deep breath, smoothing your hair and wiping your eyes one last time.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you to bed, okay?”

He nods as you hold his hand to guide him off the counter, the sleepiness beginning to set in for the both of you.

You head back to your room and help him get situated in bed, climbing in next to him, careful not to hurt him any further.

“I love you,” he whispers as he’s falling asleep.

“I love you more,” you whisper back, kissing his shoulder and finally letting the sleep overcome you, silently wishing that you'll wake up tomorrow and this will have all been a dream.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!! Let me know what you think and if anything should be changed. I might upload some more in the future, depending on how this does! :)

Also lmk if I should change the POV, like if third person or first person would be better :) I will prob be coming back to edit this every now and then if I find something to change, which is very likely.

And PLEASE send in any requests if you have any!!

xoxo

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader.

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck.

Spencer wasn't well.

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious.

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break”

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing."

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do”

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me”

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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mariespen · 10 months ago

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The Love in Pain ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

jj maybank x fem!reader - hurt/comfort ✩°｡ summary: the one and only time JJ wasn't there. warnings: mild description of nausea, description of injury, hurt/comfort, mild swearing

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Your legs intertwined with JJ’s as you relaxed onto his body. The two of you sat together at the chateau, half-listening to what Pope and John B were rambling about. You felt JJ’s soft touch absentmindedly drawing shapes into your thigh while your fingers danced across his own.

“It belonged to one of Denmark Tanny’s close friends, maybe it’ll connect the dots.” Pope said, looking around the room at you, JJ, John B, Kiara, and Sarah.

“It’s far fetched, Pope.” John B replied.

You perked up at the spark of an argument, starting to listen in more to what they were saying. JJ looked at you, confused, until he listened in too and made the same connection that you did.

“It’s not!” Pope protested, opening his mouth to start reasoning again before John B cut him off.

“It’s an old abandoned house, man. There’s been nothing there for years.” He sighed, still feeling let down from their previously failed attempts to find out more about the legendary gold.

You sat up, squirming out of JJ’s hold on you to listen in, hearing Pope slowly convince John B. Your first reaction was the urge to go with them. JJ hasn’t let you go on any of the adventures yet, but you were ready to fight him on it.

“I’ll go.” You announced and JJ immediately sat up after you, looking at you with immediate denial.

Pope’s eyes shot up and the rest of the pogues looked at you, waiting for JJ to say something. JJ met your eyes, looking at you like he was looking at a crazy person.

“No, we already talked about this.” He said, grabbing your cheeks with his hand and pinching them softly, turning your face to meet his eyes when he sensed that you weren’t listening, “Baby, look at me. Absolutely not.”

“Jayj-“ you started trying to give him the most innocent look you could muster up.

“No! Completely not okay.” He repeated, letting you go and sitting back on the couch, arms crossed at his chest.

“C’mon dude.. if she wants to go..” John B said, smiling at you.

“Really not helping my case here, man.” JJ said, rolling his eyes and pulling you back down to his chest, holding you close before you sprung back up.

“JJ come on! I’ll stay out of your way I promise!” You protested, looking at him like your life depended on this.

“Absolutely not,” He said, shifting to pick you off of his lap and standing up, “You’re damned if you think I’m bringing my girl into this.” He finished, walking off.

“He’s happy tonight.” Kiara scoffed, crossing her legs and giving you an apologetic smile, “If it helps, he’s the only one who doesn’t want you to go with.” She said, shrugging it off.

But you clung to it, rolling your eyes and laying back down on the couch, feeling lonely without JJ. While they kept talking, you got up, going to find out just how pissed off your boyfriend really was. You found him in the kitchen, a beer in hand while he zoned out at the wall.

“JJ.” You said, making yourself known and trying to stifle a smile when his eyes lit up at your presence.

“Hi, ma.” He said, setting his beer down and starting towards you with a slim smile.

“C’mon, baby.” You said, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen and draping your arms around his shoulders.

He looked at you with doubt in his eyes, his hands finding your hips as he let his head drop to the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a while, taking in each other's presence. Eventually he pulled away, his body towering over yours as he kissed you gently, savoring the taste of your chapstick.

“It’s dangerous, I won’t let you get hurt.” He said, sticking to his decision on the outside but slowly being worn down by each second.

You knew how to get what you wanted.

“I’ll stay right by your side, yeah? You can protect me, Jay.” You said quietly into his ear, softly tracing his face with your fingers.

He sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder as he thought about it. You kissed his hair gently and let him hold you for a while until he emerged again, looking at you with a defeated face. You smiled innocently at him, hope rising in your chest.

“You can’t get hurt, you have to stay with me.” He said and you nodded eagerly, kissing him and smiling with excitement.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll stay right by you. Thank you!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him again as you felt him ease up at your excitement.

You walked proudly back out to the rest of the group, dragging JJ behind you as he looked at everyone like he just lost the fight of his life. They all looked back at you, mostly out of amazement that you won over JJ (again). You tried to listen for the remainder of the night, trying not to fall asleep in JJ’s arms as John B and Pope attempted to figure out a plan. He kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hand to reassure you, but mostly to reassure himself.

The next morning you were woken up by JJ making every attempt to be quiet. You opened your eyes, seeing him frozen in his last position, trying not to wake you up.

“Sorry, pretty girl.” He mumbled, a little disappointed that his plan to sneak off and leave you in the safety of the house had failed.

“Jayj..” You groaned, getting up and dressed in the clothes Kiara had let you borrow.

You put them on, a fairly basic outfit with nothing insufferably tight. The shirts and pants were stained with dirt, like most of their clothes were. You got dressed, the fitting purple t-shirt and jean shorts complimenting your body in an odd way. JJ sat at the edge of the bed in his normal sleeveless tee with cargo shorts. He smiled at you as you walked over to him, straddling his lap and kissing him softly.

“So pretty, m’lady.” He said with a joking grin, standing up and spinning you around.

You headed out, meeting up with the rest of the group in The Twinkie. The drive was rocky and JJ kept a death grip on you, checking to make sure you didn’t want to turn back at least every five seconds.

“Dude, she’s fine.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes when he asked you if you ‘were completely sure’ for the 14th time.

“Didn’t know it was a crime to care.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes and looking away, trying his hardest to seem unbothered.

The six of you eventually got to the site of the old and abandoned house. The walls looked like they were rotting off of the structure and the house itself seemed to be at a permanent tilt. “Jesus..” Sarah sighed, letting John B help her out as JJ held your hand tight, following them. Pope and Kiara came out last, surveying the area with the four of you.

“Not looking too promising.” John B said and Pope sighed, shaking his head and walking forward.

The front door was hidden behind thickets of overgrown plants, but once Pope fought through the guarding vines, the door popped open easily. Everyone began to walk in, wielding a flashlight and the occasional knife. JJ pulled you aside before you could even step foot in the house, looking incredibly nervous.

“You have to tell me when you want to go, m’kay? Stay next to me at all times.” You nodded, smiling and kissing his cheek.

“I got it, JJ.”

You walked into the house behind JJ. He held your hand so tightly that you could almost feel yourself losing circulation. You weren’t in any place to complain, though, so you kept walking next to him.

The house was old and it smelled moldy and wet. You could’ve sworn you felt water droplets on your back at least five times. The walls were clearly rotting and you couldn’t look at them without accumulating a feeling of dread. Slowly, you were regretting your decision. That was, until, Pope spoke up.

“I found something!” He yelled from the opposite direction as you and JJ. You started to turn back with excitement before JJ squeezed your hand tighter and pulled you behind him once again.

JJ led you back through the hallway, obviously a little skeptical as to how Pope’s plan was going to play out.

“Hey uh.. Pope, buddy.. what the fuck is this place?” JJ asked as the two of you stumbled across a dark hole with steep stairs leading down to another floor. Pope’s voice echoed from below, along with a few comments from John B and Sarah.

“Come on, man. Be brave for your girl.” John B teased and JJ scrunched his face in frustration.

“Whatever, dude.” JJ said, starting down the steep steps first, helping you down every chance that he could.

The basement smelled even worse than the first story. You nearly puked the moment that the scent of something rotten hit your nose. It took you aback and you stumbled a bit before JJ caught you, keeping you up with one of his big hands on the small of your back.

“JJ.. I need to sit down.” You said, the nausea returning as you inhaled again.

You found a pile of old hay bales in the corner of the room, not far from where Pope and Kiara were trying to figure out the map, and took a seat. JJ started to sit down next to you, but Pope called him over for his flashlight. JJ got up, looking back at you quickly before going to Pope with hesitant steps.

The hay bales didn’t make your sickness any better, and you held your head in your hands, regretting this already. After a bit of listening to them talk, you could’ve sworn that the floor was sinking. Hoping it was simply your stomach getting to your head, you decided to brush it off. However, the sinking feeling persisted and eventually you felt significantly lower than before. You went to move off of the hay bales and to ask JJ to take you back to the van, but you heard a deep crack below you.

The sinking feeling became all too real as you felt yourself plummeting down, the hay bales dropping much faster and leaving you free-falling. You felt minute after minute pass as you fell, your sense of time crumbling with the rise of your fear. In all reality, the fall lasted just around 5 seconds. Your ears rang as you crashed against the broken pounds of hay and hard concrete floor, your head pounding as you laid back, unable to move as hay scattered your body.

You didn’t hear JJ yelling your name or the creaking of the old ladder that John B set up to try and save you. Eventually, you didn’t see the light of your own flashlight anymore or the hay beyond you. Your fingertips started to go numb and you felt frigid with cold until you eventually saw black.

On the surface, JJ watched as you fell with utter horror. He ran to you as the floor gave out, watching you plummet down into an old secret storage room. He yelled and screamed for you, deciding to try and jump down but immediately being stopped by a very panicked John B, eventually getting a ladder and rushing down it. His tears spilled over your body as you flicked in and out of consciousness. He tried to keep himself together, attempting to talk you through it.

“C’mon pretty girl.. let’s get you safe and sound, yeah?” He whispered, wiping his own tears as John B and Pope helped him lift you from the spot you fell at.

You didn’t fully come to yourself until you felt JJ’s arms holding you to his chest like a child as he panicked and brought you back to the Twinkie.

“Jayj?” You whispered, holding your face in your hands as he sat you on one of the seats, scrambling for anything that could resemble a first aid kit.

“Shh.. shh baby. M’here, JJ’s gonna keep you safe.” He rambled, trying not to look at your injuries.

“Baby..” You said, voice breaking as the pain hit you.

He looked at you after grabbing a half empty bottle of a wound disinfectant, a slightly stained cloth, and a few bandages. You became more afraid when his gaze lingered on your face as his eyes welled with tears and he winced from simply seeing you in such pain.

“It’s okay, princess. S’okay.” He mumbled, trying to keep his hand still as he poured water on the cloth and padded away some blood from the smaller scratches.

“It hurts, JJ!” You cried out, tears burning the cuts on your face.

“I know princess, I know.” JJ replied, looking up at you and carefully picking you up to set you on the floor of the van instead, becoming level with you, “I got you.” He whispered into you before setting you in his lap.

His cautious touches lingered on your sensitive skin as you relaxed into him, trying to distract yourself from the pain of your own tears. You could feel his short breaths and soft sniffs from above you.

“Scared me, pretty lady. Scared me so bad.” He admitted, holding you a little tighter, grasping onto your scarred body like he wouldn’t ever be able to hold it again.

“S’okay..” You whispered to him, kissing the side of his head.

He gave you a sad smile before letting you relax into the base of a seat, cleaning and bandaging the injuries that he could.

“I love you, JJ” You said, holding his hand for comfort.

“I love you too, princess.” He said, kissing your cheek and brushing hair out of your face.

After a little bit, the rest of the group emerged from the house with boxes of papers and other things with the same moldy smell. JJ held your mouth and nose in his hand as your headache came back during the drive. When you finally got back to the chateau, JJ brought you inside and seeked out help.

He left a kiss on your forehead before whispering sweet nothings into you and promising to always keep you safe. You believed him, holding his shaking hands to your body, trying to let his love heal you.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

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unseededtoast · 1 year ago

Text

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure. A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #mgg #taylor swift #hurt/no comfort #angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #jj jareau #taylor swift inspired #Spotify

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underoospeterparker · 8 months ago

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congrats on 600!! I love ur work smm <3

🐬 how about jj Maybank x “that’s okay, no need to be embarrassed” with like a hurt comfort type thing…

i hope this is what you were looking for!! <3

join the celebration

jj maybank x gn!reader (but they get a period)

As soon as you pulled the covers off of your already aching body, you felt the dreaded wetness between your legs. "Shit," you groaned, your voice still a whisper so as to not wake JJ from his sleep. He was barely able to rest now, especially just after his dad had left for good.

You inched off the mattress and started towards the bathroom, stepping over Sarah and John B on the floor.

"(Y/N)?" John B's voice was cautious. "What's up?" He asked groggily. You knew he would rather be sleeping, but he'd taken great care to make sure everyone was okay: especially because he blamed himself for the situation you were in. It was, of course, his dad who had gotten him in to the whole treasure finding gig, but all of you had offered to join in and help him. After all, Pogues for life. And the treasure wasn't a downside.

You gave him a small smile, and John B squinted his eyes to make it out in the dark. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Jus' going to the bathroom." He gave you a thumbs up and rolled over into Sarah's shoulder, pressing a kiss there before closing his eyes and drifting off. You admired his ability to just fall asleep whenever he wanted.

Closing the bathroom door as gently as possible, you sat down on the toilet and tried desperately to clean up the mess. You found an extra pair of underwear and some pajamas under the sink, which you gladly climbed into after a quick rinse in the shower.

Praying that you didn't stain the sheets, you pushed the door open only to find JJ wiping at his eyes, clearly confused. You almost screamed, scared out of your mind, before JJ pressed a hand to your mouth, his wide eyes mirroring yours. "Sorry," you mouthed when he pulled his hand away.

He nodded, his lips tilting up at the edges before grabbing your arm to pull you over to the bed. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, "I changed the sheets, so you can get back in bed." Then he hopped back under the blankets like nothing had happened.

You must have looked extremely bewildered as you crawled into bed because JJ chuckled under his breath. "W-" You stuttered, "how did you know?"

JJ pulled you into his chest, arms circling around your back at he tugged you in closer so you could rest your head against him. You listened to his heartbeat as he spoke, voice rumbling through his chest. "You never wake up that early to shower, and I jus' looked over, sweetheart."

You buried your head into his t-shirt further, if that was even possible. "I'm sorry," you whispered, slightly ashamed that your boyfriend had to clean up your mess.

"Hey." He studied your face carefully, nothing except concern in his eyes. "It's okay. There's no need to be embarrassed, angel. You can't help it." Your eyes teared up and you let out a muffled sob, hormones driving you crazy.

"Oh, honey," he cooed. His voice was so gentle, sticky with his endearments and love for you. "You're okay. Are you hurting?"

Nodding, you leaned away to press a hand against your stomach, but JJ moved over to take his place. His warm palm provided some relief and you sighed softly, returning to the comfortable space beneath his neck. "I'm sorry you're feeling like this," he murmured, "wish I could take it from you."

JJ pressed a kiss to your forehead, and across the room, Pope sat up, rubbed at his eyes and looked over to you and JJ, limbs entwined and cuddling on the bed. He gagged viciously and Kiara burst out laughing, clearly awake now.

You and JJ groaned simultaneously. "They're never gonna stop giving us shit about this, right?" You asked.

"Never."

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echobx · 6 months ago

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Hellooo i heard you want some jj requests!

What about one day reader come to enemy!jj because she has nowhere to go and he finds her all bruised up at his front door, he thinks about it for a while and finally let her in to clean her up and comfort her, then let her sleep at his <33

Thank you mwahhh

Bruised - JJ Maybank × fem!reader

warnings: angst, mention of abuse, bickering, patching up, smoking (weed), hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 1.7k

author's note: no thoughts, head empty. just the fact that tumblr fucks over my formatting once again.

You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, keeping you on both feet just enough to make it to the next best place you know. Not like you particularly wanted to get beaten and stranded on the side of the road, having to walk as much as it was possible, towards the house of your one true enemy. Potentially not your only enemy, but the only one who has never ever pretended to like you. The hatred is very much mutual, and you are happy about it being like that. It's a safe and steady relationship. A relationship that purely consists of you throwing shade at him, and him throwing shade at you. Verbally very abusive from the outside, but it's comfortable to you. You know where you are at with him, and he's the only one like that in your life.

That’s why, it’s no a surprise to you when JJ starts to curse you out as soon as he catches a glimpse of you, and the fact that you keep coming closer enrages him more. But the facade starts to slip when you do too, planting yourself in the dry grass in front of his porch and nearly losing consciousness.

“What the actual fuck, y/n,” JJ hisses, but he still bends down to pick you up and carry you inside. You choose to not hold onto him, if he drops you it will at least be on brand, and you don't run the risk of having to look into his stupidly blue eyes.

JJ lays you down on his couch. His eyebrows furrowed while his eyes seem to scan over you, and he keeps on shaking his head in disapproval.

“Who did this?” he growls, angrier than you have ever heard him.

“Don't start, I just want to go home,” you press out through gritted teeth, but when you try to swing your legs around you can't even move them a single inch. It's like you're paralyzed and panic starts to rise in you. ‘One toe after the other,’ you tell yourself and force your body to obey you. It takes some effort and a lot of concentration, but you find relief in the fact that you are not at all paralyzed, and just extremely exhausted physically.

“You're not going anywhere like this,” JJ insists after watching you carefully.

“You're the worst,” you sigh and close your eyes. Half an hour ago you had been thrown out of a moving car, thirty minutes before that your (now ex-) boyfriend had started to yell at you. He had accused you of cheating on him, you hadn't, and then decided it granted him a free pass in nearly killing you.

“Who did this?” JJ hisses, and you can only laugh at how hilarious it sounds. He cares about who hurt you. Oh, but he doesn't do it because he cares about you. No, JJ Maybank only cares about who hurts you because he is sure to ever be the only one who gets to hurt you. And if not, he at least wants to be the one who hurts you most.

“Why? You're gonna go give him a prize?”

“You look half dead,” JJ notes and sits down on the coffee table, eyes fixed on your face, waiting for you to open your eyes, but you can't, fearing to cry in front of him.

“I feel worse,” you deadpan and hear him get up and walk away.

Even though you are his sworn enemy, JJ can't stand to see you in pain, especially you. He doesn't like that you look weak like that. He doesn't like that someone hurt you worse than he ever thought necessary. He needs to patch you up, not because he wants to help, but because he doesn't want to lose the only constant in his hectic life.

“Can you sit up?” JJ asks, and you open your eyes to see him with the first aid kit in his hand.

“You gonna play nurse, Maybank?” you chuckle, but a stinging pain makes you shriek instead.

“Sounds good, you don't even need my help,” he remarks with the heaviest sarcasm you have ever heard of him. He loops his arms around your legs and swings them around, forcing you to sit.

“It's not funny,” you mutter, and he rolls his eyes, silently getting to work on patching you up.

First your arm and legs, cleaning cuts and making sure they don't need stitches. Then your stomach and waist, lifting your shirt and making sure that he doesn't touch you too much. Touching you would go too far, he doesn't let himself, and you are glad for it.

But something shifts when he gets up to your face, softly pressing the fresh, warm and wet washcloth to your bleeding lip. His eyes are darker than you know them. Maybe he is actually, genuinely, secretly worried about your health and beauty, but that can't be true, you think.

“Will you tell me now?” JJ asks while staring at you, deep into your battered heart.

“My boyfriend, ex, I guess. He threw me out of the car while driving, said I was cheating. I know I'm a bitch, but I'm not a cheater,” you explain quickly and JJ nods.

“I know, about the not cheating. Can't even count how many times my ex said I was, and then she did- Doesn't matter,” he lets out a deep sigh before starting to put the kit back together.

“Do you have painkillers?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“Weed only.”

“I forgot, you like the smelly shit,” you roll your eyes. There is no use in trying to pretend that you like him now just because he has helped you, maybe you hate him more because he has let himself be vulnerable by taking you in and caring. A mistake, surely. You would never do it, you're sure of it.

“It's either sitting here in pain and being a total bitch once again, or taking the offer,” JJ says before pulling a dime bag from his pocket.

“So?” JJ asks after you pull your head back up from the bong and breathe out the thick air. Your mind is hazy and everything seems to be covered in a blue filter.

“Good shit,” you sigh, your head falling back against the couch cushion.

“You should go to the cops,” JJ says, his eyes raking over your body. He has never let himself see you as anything but his enemy, although he isn't sure how it even started. The feud has been going for too long for him to remember.

“And what are they gonna do?” you scoff.

“I don't know, restraining order or something. Charge him for assault. You could've died.”

You turn your head to look at him, messy blonde strands falling into his face. He's actually not that ugly, unlike what you keep telling people so they'll stay away from him.

“Man, I wish I had, so I wouldn't have to be here with you,” you snarl, but it feels wrong to even think it, much so to say those things.

“Why do we hate each other again?” JJ asks straight out and you snort.

“You don't remember?”

“Been too long,” he shrugs.

“You called me ugly and said I was the most boring and shallow person you had ever met, and all of that just so you didn't have to kiss me for spin the fucking bottle,” you say, and it seems to dawn on him, a memory coming back and lighting up his eyes.

“We were ten, and I didn't wanna lose my first kiss to you,” JJ laughs, but you don't think it's funny.

“You humiliated me in front of all my friends,” you glare at him, but he's still laughing too hard. “Stop mocking me, asshole,” you snarl, and he stops to look at you.

“You hate me this much because of that?”

“Yes. And the shit you did over the years,” you add, and he cocks a brow up.

“The shit I did over the years as a direct response to you being a bitch.”

“Whatever,” you mutter and go to take another hit.

“I didn't think it would hurt you that much, I'm sorry,” JJ apologizes, and you nearly choke on your own breath.

“You what?”

“I'm not saying it again.”

“Do you still think I'm shallow and boring?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“No, just mean and an asshole.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good. You should go to sleep now, it's late,” JJ says, and you turn your head to look out the window, and to your surprise it's actually pitch black out. How did that happen? How much did you smoke?

“I don't think a couch is helpful with your injuries,” JJ says and gets up, getting ready to lift you up, but you slap his hands away.

“I can walk myself,” you grumble but as soon as you are up, your legs give out from under you, and he catches you quickly.

“Can I do this now or are you gonna protest on every fucking step?” He's annoyed by your stubbornness. Yet this time, even just for the short moment, you place your arms around his neck, eyes gazing into his as he carries you to his room and lays you down on his bed.

It smells overwhelmingly like JJ, but you don't hate it, you like how familiar it feels.

“I'm gonna go sleep on the couch,” he announces and turns to walk away.

“Wait!” you gasp and surprise yourself with it maybe even more than you do JJ.

“What do you need?”

“Stay, please. I don't like falling asleep on my own,” you whisper, and he nods, walking around the bed and sitting down by your side.

“That all?” JJ asks and you nod.

“Thank you for saving my shitty life,” you whisper and lean up to peck his cheek. It's a polite gesture, nothing more, he tells himself and you do too. But deep down you know there is a reason why hating him comes so easy to you. After all, hate and love are twin flames, no matter how hard either of you try to deny it.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

#jj maybank #obx #my writing #outer banks #obx fanfiction #~fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank hurt/comfort #~prompt #@chimindity

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1shortnsweet · 28 days ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors ~ JJ Maybank x reader (hurt comfort)

Warnings- swearing, parental abuse, kind of graphic description? mentions of blood and bruises, use of y/n, hurt comfort trope.

Summary- You and JJ didn’t get along. Everyone knew it. But when you find yourself in a painful situation, he’s the only one who’s there to help you.

Disclaimer- This is an old one I wrote from a request on AO3, so it’s not the best writing. Also not proofread. Enjoy what you can out of it!

: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:

Every night in the Outer Bank since you had moved here six years ago has gone differently. One night, your best friends wanted to throw a kegger, the next you couldn’t leave the house due to your far too noticeable bruising from your “beloved” father. Tonight was that second option.

You and JJ didn’t always get along as well as the rest of the friend group, but you both tolerated each other and that was all that mattered. Sure, you still bickered, but your friends loved you both, so you and JJ had to be civil. A few times he had noticed your absence, or the fact that you wore sweatshirts and cardigans in summer heat, but never asked you about it figuring you were just some freak. He once walked in on you crying over your father’s words, but you convinced him it was about a boy so you didn’t have to explain your home life.

“Why are you wearing a cardigan, it is seventy-four degrees outside y/n,” JJ barked at you from the front porch as he sprawled across the couch. You may not have gotten along with him, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t find him insanely attractive.

“Fuck off Maybank my house was cold,” you replied trying to cover the darkening bruises on your wrists from the fresh fight with your father and that morning.

None of your friends knew how your father was. They were never allowed at your house and you made sure to keep your distance most of the time if you had bruises. He was a well known businessman with a big reputation. Everyone who saw your family from the outside thought you were perfect, without a worry in the world. That obviously wasn’t the case within the walls of your house. Tonight, Sarah begged you to come over so she wasn’t the only girl. You reluctantly agreed, making sure that cardigan would cover the darkening bruise on your wrist. All five of you gathered in the backyard. John B made a bonfire and everyone was happy and smiling.

As the night went on, you lost track of time with your best friends. Next thing you knew, your phone was ringing beyond belief and your father’s name lit up the screen. The pit in your stomach had grown four times bigger almost immediately, knowing what was coming on the other end of the phone. Hesitantly, you picked it up, while also standing up and slowly walking away from your friends in hopes they wouldn’t hear. Although, JJ noticed the hesitancy in your actions and watched you move away from the group.

“Where the fuck are you y/n? It is ten pm and this house is not fucking clean, dinner was not made and your curfew is nine. Your mother would be so disappointed in you. I have done everything in my god damn power to please you and give you a good life. But this is how you treat me, like some sack of shit on the side of the road? Get your ass home now or there will be serious consequences.”

You winced at the tone of his voice, not being able to get a single word in. You knew what was coming for you at the other end of this argument. You slowly trudged back over to your smiling and laughing friends, seeing Sarah and Pope chasing each other with beers in hand.

“Hey guys, uh my Dad needs me home early tonight. Something about a party he’s throwing tomorrow, just needs some help setting up. See you guys tomorrow?” You had perfected the art of a good lie, convincing all four of them you’d see them in less than twenty four hours. Thankfully, they were heading to a party soon, so you wouldn’t have to worry about them following you.

You started the ten minute walk back home, praying to god he had passed out drunk by the time you walked in. It had started raining, leaving you soaked in a heavy cardigan, and your sopping converse. Hesitantly, you walked up to the front door and walked into your humble abode.

To no surprise, your father was passed out drunk leaning over the kitchen table with a vodka bottle in hand. Slowly and quietly, you tried to make it past him to reach the stairs to your bedroom. Just as you were about to head up, a rough grip pressed against your already sore wrist.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Your father said as he slowly stood up, towering over your already terrified figure. Within seconds, his free hand had balled into a fist and punched you so hard in the stomach, you fell and doubled over in pain on the tile floor. Followed by a kick to the gut, and his left fist pounding into your face too many times to count. You could taste and feel the blood in your mouth, seeing it drip from your nose and onto your clothes. He was yelling obscenities at you between hits, calling you a disappointment, reminding you of your dead mother and taking jabs at your friends. When you tried to get up and run upstairs, he grabbed the collar of your cardigan and yanked you backwards, resulting in you hitting your head on the refrigerator. This was the worst he had ever been, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Your father finally gave up when you stopped fighting back, leaving you to lay in your own blood on the floor.

After what felt like an eternity of you laying on the cold, hard floor trying to catch your breath, you moved. Without knowing what else to do, you bolted out the front door and headed back towards the chateau, knowing they all went to the pogue party miles away. You just needed to get away from that house, no matter where you ended up. It was now pouring, and you were limping from the pain, not even realizing tears were also streaming down your cheeks. Within minutes, you slowly walked up the front steps and into the chateau, closing the screen door behind you. Seeing as the house was dark and no cars were out front, you laid your back against the wall and tried to catch your breath before you were startled by a familiar voice.

“Why are you back, miss me too much?” You instantly recognized the voice as JJ’s, turning to see his silhouette on the pullout couch. Pulling yourself together just enough you mustered a weak reply.

“In your dreams Maybank,” you said, your voice cracking while saying his name. He was slowly standing up from his position on the couch, when he moved just slightly so the moonlight from the storm outside illuminated your face just enough for him to see.

“Holy fuck, what happened to your face y/n?” He said as he moved closer to you, flipping the lamp on as he passed it. He looked you up and down in worry, trying to figure out where all the blood on your sleeves and collar had come from. You had never seen JJ so concerned, as usually he was making fun of your outfit or starting a prank war.

“Y/n who did this?” JJ asked again, praying you would let him in. It was him asking those words that made your heart sting. Tears welled up in your eyes and he saw how afraid you looked in that moment. He lightly grabbed your hand and walked you to the bathroom down the hallway. JJ lifted you up as gentle as he could, causing you to wince at his touch against your bruising hips. He set you on the countertop and left the room to retrieve the first aid kit in John B’s bedroom.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened or do you wanna sit in silence? This might sting a little by the way,” JJ said as he pressed the washcloth to the bleeding cut on your forehead. You slightly winced from the pain and pulled back. You looked into his soft eyes already looking back at you, and the tears welled up again. You finally let them fall from your eyes, feeling the urge to tell someone, anyone what was going on. You knew about JJ’s dad and what he did, so you didn’t want to pour your problems onto him, but it all came flowing out of you. Tears were falling, your heart was racing and your breath hitched.

“It was my father. It’s usually never this bad but he was drunk and lost his shit on me today for not being home on time and then dinner wasn’t made, and he got drunk. I didn’t know where else to go and I couldn’t stay at my house, I was too afraid,” you spewed as JJ tried to patch you up and wipe the blood from your face. He stared at you in horror, trying to get you to calm down before you hurt yourself even more.

“Y/n hey chill. Hey stop, listen to me okay? I’ve got you alright? He’s not here. It’s just us. He’s not gonna get to you anymore. I know how this goes more than anyone. Just let me clean you up and we’ll go from there okay?”

You nodded at him, sniffling and catching your breath. JJ finished cleaning the blood from your body and left the bathroom. You got down from the counter and looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing your black eye already forming and the cuts from your father’s ring down your cheek. JJ came back with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your sweatpants you left at the chateau last week. He helped you change into them and you walked behind him to the spare bedroom. You crawled into the bed, grimacing at the soreness already flowing through your body. JJ covers you in the blanket, and started to head for the bedroom door.

“JJ?” Your voice sounded weak as you said his name from the bed. He turned back to look at you with sad eyes. “Can you stay?”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. Silently, he crawled into the bed beside you and turned to look at your bruising face in the moonlight. You both just sat there in silence, some kind of unspoken understanding between the two of you. After what felt like an eternity, you drifted off to sleep with the rain still coming down outside the window.

Hours later, you woke up in an unfamiliar, warm embrace. Turning your head, you realized you were wrapped up in JJ’s arms under the blankets. His sandy hair was messy from the pillow and his skin was being illuminated from the sunlight through the window. You two may have fought almost daily, but something about this was comforting. Slowly, he opened his bright blue eyes and looked down at you.

“Why did you help me? You don’t even like me, JJ,” You asked him, as you untangled yourselves and he stood up from the bed. He walked out into the kitchen where you could see Pope passed out on the couch from the doorway. You were truly pondering this question, given that JJ has never voluntarily spent time with you before.

“Boys pick on the girls they like, y/n. Besides, no one was ever there for me when I needed it. It sucked. Put this on your face, you look like shit,”he replied as he threw an ice pack at you from the doorway. He watched you place it over your eye, wincing from the pressure on your bruise. You smiled slightly at him, unlocking some new level of comfort between the two of you. He smiled back and walked out of the room. Shit, maybe you liked him too. You didn’t even realize he had walked back into the room before he spoke.

“Your secrets safe with me y/n. Just don’t tell anyone I like you,” he said smirking at you from the foot of the bed. You threw the pillow behind your head at him, even though it hurt to move that much at once.

You knew he would keep your secret, and you also knew JJ Maybank had a secret crush on you. Both things could work to your advantage.

#jj maybank #outer banks #sarah cameron #oneshot #imagine #obx #hurt/comfort #tumblr #obx imagine #hurt comfort #jj maybank hurt comfort #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader hurt comfort

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scarlettjemily · 3 months ago

Text

I Love You So (please let me go)

I have a Jemily playlist on spotify and I shuffle it and write a fic inspired by the song

Song: I Love You So - The Walters (from @moonflowerxox's Jemily playlist)

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Summary: Emily and JJ started off as something casual but their feelings got messy. Emily leaves the BAU, only to return when she finds out JJ has been kidnapped. Their feelings are still just as messy.

Warning: 18+ only, Mild Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied R/Non-Con (literally no details), Blood and Violence, Gun Violence, JJ getting kidnapped. Sorry if i forgot anything else???

Word count: 7.3k

Posted on Ao3 as well

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Emily mumbled against JJ's lips, both of their hands desperately tearing at each other’s clothes as they stumbled into the hotel room.

"Emily, shut up and just fuck me; you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about doing this for years.” JJ ripped open Emily’s blouse, the silver buttons popping open with ease. She groaned at the site of Emily’s bare skin, her breasts covered by a black lacy bra. She leant down, biting and sucking the skin of her breast. She pulled one of the cups down, taking her hard nipple in her mouth and flicking it with her tongue.

Emily gasped, feeling JJ bite down on her nipple. “You’re right, fuck it,” she breathed out. A wave of confidence surged through her; she picked up the blonde girl by the hips, her legs locking around her waist.

JJ laughed into the kiss as Emily brought her over to the bed. She let out a little squeak when she threw her down on the mattress.

“One time, yeah? Nothing more,” Emily stated, pulling her blouse off and throwing it to the floor. JJ nodded in agreement, unbuttoning her own shirt as well. Emily unbuckled her belt and let her slacks drop to the floor. “And no one can find out about this, okay?”

JJ rolled her eyes, throwing her shirt at Emily. “Yes, okay, no one can know. Now shut up and come here.”

“Okay, twice. We are only going to do this twice,” Emily groaned, feeling JJ’s hand dip into the waist of her pants and underwear. She was pressed up against the hotel room door, with JJ's lips attached to her neck. Her fingers started to make clumsy circles on Emily’s clit, making her head drop back against the door.

“Mhmm twice, sure,” JJ chuckled, releasing the skin of her neck with a ‘pop’ and removing her hand from her pants. She dropped to her knees, making quick work of removing Emily’s pants. She lifted one of Emily’s legs over her shoulder as her tongue ran through the woman’s folds. She looked up at Emily, her eyes closing as she groaned. When Emily’s hands gripped onto her ponytail, JJ knew this wasn’t going to be the last time they slept together.

“Emily, JJ, I’m sorry to even ask you this, but is it okay if you two share a room?” Hotch asked, approaching the two women who were sitting next to each other on the jet. They were about to head off to consult on a case. “There’s two separate beds; you know, I wouldn’t usually ask this, but it’s quite last minute, and it’s all we could get. If it’s a serious problem, I’ll figure something out.”

"No, no, it’s fine, Hotch. We don’t mind, do we, Emily?” JJ looked over at Emily, a knowing smile on her face. She was trying hard to contain her excitement because she knew whenever they were alone, they couldn’t help themselves.

Emily wanted to groan but she stopped herself. She forced a smile and waved her hand, attempting to look natural. “No worries, Hotch, we’re fine,” he nodded, thanking the women before leaving to go sit in his seat. Emily rolled her eyes and pushed JJ's hand away from her leg. “Stop it,” she insisted, giving JJ a stern look.

JJ just laughed, “Oh what? You’re not excited? Come on, it’s been way too long,” she leant in closer to Emily, leaning on her arm rest. “We can have a bit of fun, yeah?” She whispered.

Emily sighed, leaning her head in her hands. “JJ, are you not dating that cop? Whatever his name is,” she said, looking over at the girl beside her.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Who? Will? It’s not serious, Emily; we’ve only been on a couple of dates,” she said, not phased by it at all. “Come on, what do you say? It doesn’t mean anything anyway.” She scooted closer, so she was a couple of inches from Emily’s ear. “Will doesn’t make me cum like you do, Em,” she whispered, making sure to breathe on Emily’s ear, knowing how sensitive she is to that.

Emily shuddered, feeling JJ’s hot breath on the shell of her ear. She had to turn her head away just to compose herself. No matter how many times she told herself to not sleep with JJ again, when she started playing her little games, Emily couldn’t resist. She told herself it meant nothing, that it was just a bit of fun. It may have started that way, but it was so far from that now. "Fine,” Emily mumbled before getting up and moving seats. Emily hated this; she hated fucking JJ and being reminded how little she meant to the other woman, but because she’s in love with her, she’ll take her in any kind of capacity she can.

It was the final night of the case; they’d been working relentlessly for just over a week to solve it and decided to go out to a bar to unwind once they’d wrapped it up. The team was gathered around a table, each with a drink in hand. The vibe was relaxed; they’d worked hard, and now they wanted to wind down a little before their flight in the morning.

Emily took a sip of her whisky, her eyes trailing over to the bar across the room. JJ was leaning up against it, holding a beer, and talking to some random guy who was sitting there. Emily was fuming. She’d spent the last 8 days sharing a room with JJ, fucking JJ, and as soon as they’re in the bar, she’s flirting with a guy. Emily kept sipping at her drink, trying not to let any sort of reaction show on her face. That wouldn’t go down well in a room full of profilers, especially when lying was involved. She watched as JJ leant into the guy and began kissing him. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She threw back the rest of her drink, slamming her glass down on the table. Not meaning to hit it so hard, “I’m not feeling well, guys; I’m going back to the hotel. I’ll see you in the morning,” she announced, getting up and storming out before anyone could question the validity of her words.

Emily headed straight back to the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind her. Tears fall from her eyes. “What am I doing?” She whispered to herself, running her hands through her dark hair.

She tried to distract herself by packing her bags so they’d be ready for their flight, but she found that task difficult while crying. Eventually she gave up, stripping down to her underwear and crawling under the covers of one of the beds. She wrapped herself up tightly in the blankets, hoping the pressure around her body would ease her sobs. Unfortunately, she was too far gone. Her cries were loud, and her body shook as she tried to muffle the sounds with the blanket.

Emily froze when she heard the lock of the door rustle. She swallowed her cries when she heard her name being called from out in the hall. She wiped her eyes and flipped over so her back was to the door, burying her face into her pillow and trying her best to pretend to be asleep. There was not a chance she’d be able to stay composed if she came face-to-face with JJ.

“Emily? Are you awake?” JJ yelled in an attempt to whisper, the alcohol in her system clearly impairing her ability to judge how loud she was actually being. She saw the woman curled up in the bedsheets, looking like she was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. She crawled onto the bed, looking for Emily’s head, which was barely visible. She pouted when she saw she was asleep; she grunted as if it were an inconvenience to her that the brunette was asleep. "Boring,” she mumbled, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before hopping out and moving into her own bed so she could get some sleep.

It took every ounce of energy in Emily’s body to not react or make a noise as tears welled up in her eyes again. She bit down hard on the blanket, feeling as though she’d held her breath until she heard the little snores coming from JJ, indicating the girl was finally asleep. She lay there all night, her mind going wild; she didn’t know how long she could do this to herself.

“Hey, what’s your deal? I woke up this morning and you’d already left; why didn’t you wait for me?” JJ sat in the chair across from Emily, clearly annoyed that she had to find her own way to the jet.

“I wasn’t feeling well; I had a horrible sleep,” she lied, pleading internally for JJ to just drop it. “I just wanted to get to the jet early; it’s nothing.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “A bit dramatic, Em; you still could’ve waited for me,” she scoffed, not being able to suppress her annoyance.

Emily just stood up and walked to the other end of the jet, lying across the seats and wrapping herself tightly in a blanket. She couldn’t do this right now.

JJ watched with confusion etched on her face. She went to stand up, but a hand held her back.

“Leave her; she’s not feeling well. Don’t push her; you can talk to her later,” Rossi said, patting JJ's knee. The natural authority in his voice made JJ grumble and sit back in her seat, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

“You have no choice! You’re coming to my birthday drinks!” Penelope stomped her foot like a child; she was standing in front of Emily, who was sitting at her desk. “You have not come out with the team in forever; you always bail now. What happened to you?” She pressed, not wanting to let Emily get away with her antisocial behaviour.

Emily hadn’t been out with the team since she and JJ shared a hotel room together. She had to distance herself from her ever since. Trying to move on from a woman you see every single day is impossible; now add in seeing each other after hours. And alcohol? It’s guaranteed not to work. Especially not when JJ would find any excuse to throw herself at Emily when given the chance. “Who’s going?” She asked, contemplating the idea for a split second. She felt bad saying no to Penelope because she was right; she has bailed on every gathering they had in the past 9 months.

“Everyone here! Me, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, and JJ, and she’s bringing Will. Please Emily?!” She begged.

Emily caved and decided she would go. Penelope was one of her closest friends; she was doing it for her. She hoped that if JJ was bringing Will, then she’d leave her alone. She most likely would, seeing as though Emily has barely spoken a word to the girl in 9 months. Only speaking to her if it was related to work. Emily didn’t even congratulate her when she and Will got engaged 2 months ago. She just couldn’t let herself go there. Not when she’d come so far in trying to get over her.

“It’s good to see you out, Prentiss; we missed you.” Morgan wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulder and clinked his beer against her glass of whisky.

She smiled, taking a small sip of her drink. “You know how Penelope is with her words; I don’t think there was ever a chance of me not coming,” Morgan laughed, easily agreeing with her because he knew exactly what Penelope was like. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom; can you watch my drink?” She asked, passing her drink over. He nodded, taking a hold of her drink, not thinking twice. She walked through the crowd and headed for the bathroom. She was surprisingly enjoying her night; she wasn’t regretting her choice just yet. That was until one of the toilet stall doors flung open and JJ stumbled out as Emily was walking in.

“Well, well, Emily Prentiss. So nice to see you. What’s it been? Like a year since we last spoke?” She seethed in a drunken haze. She was pissed, and the alcohol was making her brave.

“Not now, JJ. Please don’t do this." Emily tried to push past the woman, but JJ wouldn’t let her.

“If not now, then when? Cause you sure as hell don’t speak to me anymore, shit, you don’t even look at me,” JJ said, Emily still not being able to make eye contact with her.

"Seriously, JJ, what do you want from me? Why do you care? You’re engaged to Will now. I was just a quick fuck for you, wasn’t I?” She was angry now as well, not being able to bite her tongue.

JJ scoffed, letting out a forced laugh. “You were a quick fuck? I was the quick fuck! I meant nothing to you! And you never passed up a chance to tell me that!”

Emily looked at JJ like she was completely insane. “You must be so fucking drunk right now because you were always the one telling me it meant nothing. We would fuck, and then you’d be hooking up with guys the same night! You’re delusional, JJ; you’re fucking clueless. I loved you; I was completely in love with you, but I was nothing to you.” Tears of anger sat on the rims of her eyelids, but there was no way she would let them fall.

JJ felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her lungs from hearing Emily’s admission. “Tell me, Emily. Tell me to leave him, and I will.” She didn’t know why she was saying this, but it came out, and it was too late to stop it. There was a part of her that had always loved Emily. “I’ll leave him for you if you tell me to right now.” It must’ve been the alcohol in her system, because there was never a time when she’d ever even come close to confessing her feelings for Emily.

“Fuck me, you’re insane,” Emily’s hand slapped against her own forehead as she listened to the words leaving JJ's mouth. “I’m done, JJ. I’m leaving; you need to let me go. You need to fucking let me move on. Marry Will and I’m begging you, please forget about me,” she turned to leave the bathroom, but JJ ran, situating herself between Emily and the exit.

"No, Emily, I’m not done with you. I can’t forget about you; you’re not nothing; you never were.” JJ was pleading now, desperation the only thing evident on her face.

Emily took in a deep breath, stepping forward so her face was mere inches from JJ’s. “You should’ve thought about that before you treated me like I was nothing but a quick fuck when you were bored.” Her voice was stern and controlled, a stark contrast to what she was feeling inside. “Now move out of the fucking way, Jennifer.”

JJ stepped to the side without a word; what could she say? She had no answer to that whatsoever. She dropped back against the wall after Emily left, her hands in her hair. Tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks. She’d fucked up big time, and she didn’t think there would be a way out of it.

"JJ, can you please see me in my office?” Hotch requested as he walked up the stairs into his office, leaving the door open for JJ to come inside. She followed promptly, closing the door behind her.

“What’s up?” She said it casually, not expecting much of this conversation.

“I’ve got some bad news; it’s about Emily.” Worry immediately flowed through JJ, waiting to hear what the bad news was. “She’s resigned, JJ. She filled me in on your history together and insisted I not tell you until she was gone.”

JJ was confused; she couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotions she was feeling. They were quickly becoming messy inside her mind as she tried to process what Hotch was telling her. “No, Emily wouldn’t do that. I know we’re fighting right now, but she would never do that. I have to go speak to her.” Her voice was trembling, the possibility of tears increasing with each moment.

“She’s left the country. JJ, she got a job at Interpol. She’s on her way to London already." Hotch knew this would be tough on JJ. He didn’t necessarily agree with Emily’s choices, but he had to respect them.

“Without saying goodbye to any of us? She just left the entire team.” Hotch’s silence told JJ everything she needed to know. “Oh, so you all knew and not a single one of you told me?” She could finally pinpoint an emotion; she was angry. She didn’t care to hear his reply because Hotch had the capability to talk sense into anyone, and JJ didn’t want that. She stormed out of his office and straight out of the building, ignoring any attempts that people made to talk to her.

JJ entered her home, slamming the door closed as hard as she could. She was frantic; she couldn’t believe Emily actually did this. She was heartbroken. She knew things were bad between them, but the Emily she knew wouldn’t do this. HER Emily would simply not do something this bad to her.

She grabbed her phone, her trembling fingers tapping at the screen. She put her phone on private and immediately called Emily’s number. She knew there would be no chance of her answering if Emily knew it was JJ.

“Hello, Emily Prentiss speaking.”

A rush of pure, uncontrollable anger flashed through her body when she heard Emily’s voice. “How could you do this?” Her voice shook as she spoke. She was trying to control her anger, but it was only a matter of time until she exploded or completely broke down.

"No, I’m not doing this. I’m hanging up, JJ.”

JJ shook her head, despite not being able to be seen by the other woman. "Please,” she choked out, tears starting to spill from her eyes. “Please Em, come back; you can’t leave me,” she sobbed, moving to sit down wherever she was; she couldn’t hold herself up anymore. Her head was spinning.

Emily closed her eyes tightly, hearing JJ begin to sob and beg her to come back. Her heart jolted with every cry. “I can't, JJ; I have to go, and you need to let me move on.” Her hard exterior was beginning to drop while listening to JJ cry through the phone. She’d never heard her cry like this before.

“I’m sorry, Emily; I’m so sorry for everything.” She didn’t know what else to say. It was pretty evident that Emily wasn’t going to come back. “I love you,” she whispered, wiping her nose with the end of her sleeve.

“I loved you too, JJ.”

JJ dug into her handbag, looking for her keys, as she walked towards her car. Her hand mindlessly shuffled through the bottom of her bag, not being able to find them. She was getting frustrated; she stopped walking so she could look into her bag properly, but before she could, something hard came down against her head, knocking her to the floor. She was taken off guard; she hadn’t seen anyone around. Surely she wouldn’t have missed someone following her? She would never have missed someone. She grunted, grabbing at her head where she was hit; her hand came back covered in blood, but before she could do anything, she was hit over the head again.

JJ jolted awake, gasping as hard as she could, the feeling of the oxygen filling her lungs, causing her to become more alert. She flinched and let out a yell when a stream of freezing cold water hit her in the face, the intensity of the flow ripping at her skin. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but she quickly became aware that her hands were tied to the chair she was sitting on. The water stopped, giving her a chance to catch her breath. She wanted to freak out, she wanted to scream, and she wanted to fight, but she knew better. If she wanted to get out of there alive, she needed to assess the situation and work out what her best reaction to this would be.

JJ let out a deep breath, finally working up the courage to open her eyes. She came face to face with the man who was standing in front of her holding a hose. She was instantly confused; she didn’t even recognise him. He was hardly a man, practically a boy. Maybe 18 or 19? “Who are you?” She finally spoke. Bad idea. The boy raised his hand, backhanding her hard across the face. She chewed the inside of her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain. She didn’t want to show this guy that he’d actually hurt her.

“Are you serious? Who am I?” He grabbed her by the jaw, whipping her head towards him, forcing JJ to look at him. “You ruined my life, and you don’t even have the decency to remember who I am?” His grip on her lower face tightened with each word. It didn’t take a profiler to know that he was angry, but he was specifically angry with JJ.

JJ’s mind was moving at a hundred miles an hour, trying to mentally flick through all the cases they’ve worked on. He couldn’t have been an unsub; 99% of the unsubs they arrested ended up in jail. She was stumped.

Slap. Another back hand to the face. She grunted at the pain, her thought process momentarily pausing as the pain radiated through her face. "Fuck,” she whispered to herself. Her head was slightly dizzy from the second hit. She shook her head and looked back up at him. “I’m sorry I don’t recognise you. If you tell me, we can work out between us how we fix this.”

He chuckled and shook his head, dropping the hose to the ground and taking a few steps towards her. He roughly ran his hand through the hair atop her head, which was soaked from the hose. He gripped it tightly, ripping her head back roughly. She gritted her teeth, but she was still not giving him the satisfaction of the reaction he wanted. “Does William Touhey ring a bell?”

JJ was confused. She remembered the unsub, just barely. He was a long-haul truck driver, kidnapping women, killing them, then dumping them across state lines. It was a simple enough case. “What about him? He was a straight-forward case. We found him; he tried to shoot his way out; he died after we shot him,” the smile dropped from the boy's face, and before JJ could register his expression, his fist came into contact with her face. She yelled loudly; the pain was excruciating. Her eyes began to water, but she couldn’t gauge if it was due to the pain that was coming from her obviously now broken nose or if she was just crying.

“We? Who’s we? You stupid bitch, think about it again.” He was seething; she could hear it in his voice. “Look at me!” He screamed in a deep, guttural voice that truly scared JJ.

She forced herself to look at him, finding it extremely difficult to keep her eyes open. Blood was dripping out of her nose and spilling over her lips. “It was me; I shot him, but I still don’t know what that has to do with you,” she spat out, struggling to speak through the pain and the blood that was filling her throat.

“He was my brother. You killed him,�� he reached behind his back, pulling a gun from the waste of his jeans and slowly pressing the barrel against JJ's forehead.

“I didn’t kill him; he shot at us so-“ smack. He hit JJ across the face with the butt of his gun. She let out a sob; she was sure her cheekbone was broken now. The pain was almost unbearable; she was about to pass out.

“My mother killed herself because you killed him. I ended up getting put into foster care. I was 13, do you know what happens to kids in foster care?” JJ could barely hear what he was saying. Her eyes were closed, and she was about to lose consciousness. “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you!” He screamed.

JJ let out a scream when she heard his gun go off. It was right next to her ear; her whole head went silent, her brain stunned by the loud noise of the gun. She had no idea if he’d shot her or not; the adrenaline running through her body made it harder for her to tell. “I’m looking, I’m looking, please,” she begged, doing everything humanly possible to keep her eyes on him.

“Emily Prentiss speaking,” Hotch heard through the speaker of his phone. His usual stoic persona faltered when he heard Emily’s voice.

“Emily, it’s Hotch. I need your help; we’ve got an emergency. It’s JJ,” he stated. He knew this could go either way; she could hang straight up once she heard the mention of JJ’s name, or maybe she’s moved on enough to hear him out.

“Hotch, you know I’d help you with anything, but JJ is where I draw the line." Emily sat at her desk, leaning back in her chair, sighing deeply at the mention of the woman’s name. It’d been 3 years since she’d seen, spoken, or heard about JJ. She’d well and truly moved on, but she couldn’t help the bodily reaction she felt when it came to JJ.

“She was kidnapped from the BAU’s car park; we can’t find her.”

Emily’s heart stopped; her stomach fell. Kidnapped? “How long has it been?” She asked, standing up, grabbing her bag, and walking out of her office.

“18 hours”

Her pace quickened when she heard that “18 hours?! Hotch, why didn’t you call me earlier?! I’m on my way.” She was already running down the hall of the building before she hung the phone up. This was not good.

“Just kill me; if you want to kill me, just do it,” JJ begged. She was losing hope. She had no idea how long she’d been here; the only thing she knew was that she’d seen the sun come up once, but she’d also passed out multiple times, so that really didn’t mean much. She was still sitting in the chair, covered in blood from her beat-up face. Her wrists were covered in blood from the zip ties.

“I don’t want to kill you. I want you to feel what I felt,” he said, coming up to her and kneeling down. “I want you to suffer the way I did.” His hands rested on her thighs, slowly moving them towards the waistband of her slacks.

JJ began to cry, frantically kicking her legs. “No, no, no, please no,” she pleaded. She used every ounce of energy she had left in her body to fight him off. She didn’t even feel the zip ties digging deeper into the raw wounds on her wrist. She screamed and cried, pleading for him to stop, begging him to kill her instead, but of course, he didn’t listen.

Emily’s hands shook as she held her gun, pointing straight at the unsub. He had his gun pressed up against JJ's temple while he gripped her hair tightly in his fist. She had to stop herself from looking at JJ; otherwise, she’d break, and she couldn’t do that. Not until he was apprehended, then she’d focus on JJ.

“Jeremy, it’s over. There’s no coming back from this. You need to let her go." Hotch said, stepping up next to Emily, his gun sturdier than the former BAU agent. “Jennifer was not responsible for what happened to you. Your brother was a serial killer. He was the problem.”

Jeremy hesitated, shaking his head and pulling JJ's hair tighter, but the woman was so out of it, she barely had a reaction. “No, it was her fault. It has to be her fault,” he cried. He distanced the gun slightly, as if he were going to back down.

Emily’s breath hitched as she watched his hand like a hawk. She saw his thumb quickly move and pull the hammer back on the gun. Emily didn’t hesitate; she focused in on Jeremy and pulled the trigger. She hit him directly in his right shoulder; he dropped the gun and fell back, hitting the ground.

The group of local cops ran in, cuffing Jeremy as he cried and tried to fight against them. He kept going on about JJ being at fault as they dragged him out of the room.

Emily put her gun away and ran straight to JJ. That’s when it finally hit her—how bad JJ actually looked. She was covered in dried blood; her face was completely swollen. Black and purple bruises covered her face like a mask. Her once white blouse was ripped open, revealing her bra and bare torso, which were completely covered in blood. She was naked from the waste down, her slacks sitting around her knees. “JJ, can you hear me?” Emily said dropping to her knees in front of her, her hand subconsciously moving to her neck to check for a pulse, her wrists not an option. Emily sighed in relief when she felt a pulse.

Emily turned to face the rest of the team, who were looking at them with worried looks. “Please, you have to leave,” Emily stated. She just knew JJ wouldn’t want her male teammates to see her like this. Hotch went to protest the decision, but the look on Emily’s face convinced him otherwise. “Not like this, Hotch, let me get her covered, please,” he nodded and left the room along with the rest of the team.

Emily quickly found a knife on a tool shelf that was against the far wall; she cut the zip ties off of JJ's wrists. Blood was getting on her fingers, but she ignored it, the state of her wrists taking up all her attention in that moment. "JJ, can you hear me? It’s Emily,” she tried again, her hand resting on JJ's knee.

JJ jolted awake, screaming and kicking, when she felt a hand on her leg. “Please don’t, please,” she begged, beginning to cry.

“JJ! Stop, it’s Emily. It’s me; I promise you’re safe. You’re safe, JJ,” she dodged JJ's kicks and held her shoulders gently. She was able to place a hand on the side of her face, trying to make eye contact with the woman. "Please, JJ, focus on me; I’m here.”

JJ's eyes frantically scanned Emily’s face, taking a moment to register who she was. Her legs stopped kicking, her body pausing as her chest was heaving from her heavy breathing. “Is it really you?” she choked out, her cries beginning again.

Emily nodded, trying to give her a comforting smile. “I swear it’s me, JJ; it’s really me,” she said, moving her blood-covered hair out of her face, trying not to hit any sore spots.

“You came for me?”

Emily nodded, tears welling up in her own eyes. She took JJ in her arms and hugged her, doing her best not to hurt her face any further. “Yes, I came for you, Jen; of course I did. God, I’m so happy we found you." Emily let herself cry now; she was so worried about JJ. The woman was missing for two days. She’d seen enough cases to know the odds are not favourable when someone is held longer than 24 hours. She was so thankful JJ was alive. “Is it okay if I dress you back up? Are you able to stand?” Emily stood up, holding onto JJ's arms.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” JJ groaned, standing on her shaking legs, but she was able to stay standing, holding Emily’s shoulders for stability. Emily pulled her pants back up, making sure to announce every little movement she was making. Not wanting anything to come as a surprise to JJ. “Are you sure I’m not hallucinating?” JJ asked, still trying to comprehend if Emily was real or not.

Emily chuckled slightly, buttoning up JJ’s blouse. “You’re not hallucinating; I’m completely real. Now let’s get you to the medic” she held JJ around her waist, JJ’s arm holding her around the neck.

“Who’s gonna ride with her?” The paramedic asked, holding open the door to the ambulance. JJ was already lying on the gurney inside; she was awake and alert, currently in conversation with the other paramedic.

Emily stepped back a bit, a little self-conscious now that her adrenaline had worn off. “You should go, Hotch,” she suggested. JJ hadn’t seen her in 3 years, and she was sure the familiarity between the two was minimal, probably nonexistent.

He shrugged and climbed into the back of the ambulance, sitting next to the gurney.

JJ stopped talking to the paramedic, looking at Hotch and shaking her head. The beeping from the heart monitor began to increase in speed. “No, I thought Emily was here.” She asked through a panic; she couldn’t see Emily anymore. Now she was back to questioning if she’d hallucinated the woman. “Where’s Emily?!” She freaked out, pulling off the finger monitor and trying to sit up.

“Hey hey! I’m here, I’m here, JJ,” Emily said after quickly jumping up into the ambulance. She gave Hotch a knowing look, and that was enough for him to understand and leave the vehicle. She swapped spots with him and instantly held onto JJ's hand. She was surprised at how tightly the injured woman was squeezing her hand.

“Don’t leave, please,” JJ pleaded, her tears leaving tracks on her bloodstained cheeks. “I’m not even fully convinced you’re real, but please, for god's sake, don’t leave.”

Emily nodded reassuringly, “I promise you, I’m real. Now just relax; I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the whole time.”

JJ relaxed a fraction as the ambulance started to make its way to the hospital.

“Hotch, I’m really worried about her,” Emily sighed, standing directly next to him outside JJ's hospital room. They were looking at her through the glass window; she was asleep for now. They cleaned her up and treated her wounds, the main physical damage being her broken nose and fractured cheekbone.

“I know Emily, me too. I don’t want to think about what he did to her." Hotch stood there, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What about Will? Has someone called him?” Emily asked, looking away from JJ to face Hotch.

“Em, JJ broke up with Will not long after you left. She never married him." Hotch thought Emily knew this. She obviously wouldn’t have heard it from JJ, but someone else on the team would’ve told her. “Did you not know that?”

Emily shook her head, looking back at JJ, who was completely still in the bed. “I actually didn’t know that. So she’s got no one?” She questioned. Her heart hurting at the thought of JJ being alone, especially after this.

“Romantically, no. She hasn’t been with anyone since Will, or you, I guess.” It didn’t take a genius to know that Emily leaving the way that she did really affected JJ. “She wasn’t the same after you left,” he said truthfully.

Emily had nothing to say about that. The memories of her leaving, fighting with JJ flashing through her mind. They used to hurt a lot, but now they just came and went. She used to be angry, but how could she be now? Not after what has happened. “I’m gonna go sit with her,” she said, choosing not to acknowledge what he’d said.

JJ suddenly became aware of her surroundings when the sedatives wore off. She groaned, acutely aware of the feeling in her mouth. It was dry and sticky, like she hadn’t drank anything in weeks.

“JJ? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” She heard a muffled voice speaking, but the dull ache in her face was marring her ability to concentrate.

She opened her eyes, looking around the room, blinking hard to clear her blurry vision. “Penelope?” She questioned.

Penelope nodded and placed her hand on JJ’s knee. She jumped when JJ flinched and shifted her body away. "No, Pen, Penelope, I’m sorry,” she sobbed out, her body having a visceral reaction that she couldn’t stop. Where was Emily? She swore she was there. “I saw Emily; I think I dreamt of her,” she cried, turning on her side, away from Penelope. Her breathing was getting more erratic as seconds passed by.

Penelope jumped up, running to the door and swinging it open. “Em? Em quick, she’s freaking out.” Penelope waved Emily over quickly, the woman jumping up from her spot next to Hotch and making her way to the room.

“Jen? Hey, you’re okay; I’m here.” She walked quickly to the side of JJ’s bed, swiftly pulling the chair towards her with her foot, sitting down, and gently pulling her hands away from her face. “Can you look at me, JJ?” JJ’s eyes flashed open but closed just as quickly.

“You’re not here; I know you’re not here. I’m losing my mind; he made me lose my mind,” she cried.

Emily grabbed JJ’s hands and held them against her own face, never letting go. “Just breathe and feel my face; concentrate on what your hands feel.” After what felt like minutes, JJ was able to open her eyes again.

She let out a shaky breath, taking in Emily’s features. She just couldn’t comprehend that she was here; she hadn’t seen her in years. “You promise you’re here?” She whispered in a voice that was so broken, it shattered Emily’s heart. Emily nodded, promising JJ that she was there. “Please don’t leave me again, please.”

That hit Emily straight in the chest. 'Again,’ she knew she was referring to her leaving 3 years ago. She held JJ’s hands against her face, never feeling more guilty for leaving the woman all those years ago.

“I know hospital food isn’t very nice, but hey, how badly can you fuck up chicken soup?” Emily chuckled, placing the tray down on the portable table and wheeling it up to JJ. JJ gave her a small smile, resting her hands on the table in front of her. “Do you need help eating?” Emily offered, sitting at the bottom of JJ's bed.

JJ immediately moved her legs away from Emily, not wanting to risk her touching them. “Would you prefer me to sit in the chair?” Emily asked, noticing the shift in JJ's mood. JJ nodded, not saying a word. Emily moved to sit in the chair next to her bed; she could see JJ calm down significantly with the change of position. “JJ, what happened?” Emily asked, wary that JJ may not answer. She’d avoided asking her any questions about it the past few days, for obvious reasons.

JJ stared at her bowl of soup, using her spoon to play with the liquid as she thought deeply about the question. “Whatever you think happened, Emily, is exactly what happened,” she stated. Keeping her glazed-over stare aimed at her food, “However bad you think it was, it was worse,” she said, dropping her spoon on the tray and pushing the table away.

Emily stayed silent, blinking away any tears that dared to fall. Letting JJ speak at her own pace.

“At first I was fine; I could take the beating, but when I lost track of time and he wouldn’t let me sleep, I just lost it,” she said, dropping back against her pillow, hands going into her hair. Her voice trembled as she spoke more about what happened. “He kept firing the gun off right next to my ear; he was so mad.” Her hands landed on her ears, feeling as though she could hear the sound of the gun going off. “I begged him to kill me, but he wouldn't,” she cried, not being able to stop her tears. “He kept saying he wanted me to suffer the way he did,” she choked out a sob, getting worked up now.

Emily stood up, placing her hand on the side of JJ's face, knowing that that placement was safe for her.

“He was so mad,” she repeated, “he kept touching my legs while he was—oh, I’m gonna be sick.” She was breathing erratically now, choking on her sobs and crying.

“Sit up, Jayje, breathe, honey, breathe." Emily helped her sit up, resting one hand on her back and the other directly above her heart. “Slow JJ, breathe slowly,” she kept up the pressure of her hands, attempting to keep JJ grounded.

JJ’s breathing calmed as much as she could while she cried. She leaned into Emily, the brunette wrapping her arms around her tightly. Not needing any instructions to understand what JJ wanted.

Emily watched as JJ set her stuff down in her apartment; she looked uncomfortable and lost. She’d voiced a few times that she didn’t want to come back here because she didn’t know if Jeremy knew where she’d lived. Emily tried to tell her it didn’t matter because he was in prison and was definitely not getting out, but JJ didn’t care.

JJ sat down on her couch, mindlessly looking around. Her injuries had healed significantly. They felt better, but the bruises on her face still looked terrible, turning a bluey-green colour.

“Hey, we’ve got to talk,” Emily said, leaning on the kitchen bench, looking down at JJ, who turned to face her. Waiting patiently for Emily to continue. “You know I’m happy to stay here with you as long as you need me to, but eventually I’m going to have to go back to London.”

JJ straightened when she heard the words ‘back to London’ She shook her head. "No, Emily, you promised me you wouldn’t leave me again." Emily went to speak up, but JJ cut her off. She stood up, walking around the couch. “I know I fucked up before; I know I did. I admit that.” She stood at the bench, directly across from Emily now, who was just standing there listening to JJ's word vomit. “I let you go; I did. I let you go for 3 years, but I never stopped loving you, and you must still feel something for me; otherwise, you wouldn’t still be here." JJ's hands were flapping around as she spoke, as if the movements gave her words more meaning.

“Are you done?” Emily asked, standing up straight, hands still resting on the bench in between them.

“Well no, I guess what I’m asking is for you to come back, please?” She looked at Emily, not sure what she was thinking—the brunette's poker face was better than she remembered. “Now I’m done,” she added.

Emily nodded and couldn’t help but smile. “If you had let me finish Jennifer, I was in the middle of saying, I think it’d be a good idea if you’d come back to London with me." JJ's eyes widened, a smile playing on her lips. “Because I don’t want to leave you again, and I feel like you need a break from everything here." Emily stepped around the bench, coming over to JJ. She gently took the woman’s face in her hands. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you, JJ; I do. So much”

JJ sighed with relief; it was the first time in weeks she’d felt calm. She pulled Emily into a hug, holding her tightly around the waist. She smiled into her chest when she felt her hug her back.

“So what’ll it be, JJ? How does London sound?” Emily mumbled into the top of her head.

“Anywhere sounds good as long as I’m with you.”

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dreamsontheirway · 1 year ago

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Ouch! | J.M.

Summary: in which you get injured while playing volleyball and JJ tends to you. Warnings: bloody nose, fighting Word Length: 1.2k

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The sun beamed radiantly on the residents of Kildare, not a cloud in sight. It was an uncharacteristically nice day for the season. The middle of July and the UV index being a 4 was practically unheard of, and you and your friends were planning to take advantage of it.

There was a charming set of beach volleyball courts near The Cut, somewhere in between there and Figure 8. You had been a few times and enjoyed it, aside from the "tourons" who often inhabited it in the summertime.

You and the rest of the group had already piled into the Twinkie and were headed towards the beachside where the courts were located. You and JJ sat near the back of the boho-style van, his arm resting across the back of your shoulders. He played with the strands of your hair and blew on your neck.

You squirmed, the feeling of JJ's breathe causing shivers to ripple up your back. You looked out the window and noticed that you were nearing the beach.

"Finally!" JJ exclaimed dramatically, beginning to gather up yours and his belongings.

The beach was packed, which was not preferable, but there were still a couple volleyball courts left open. The group rushed to one of the courts toward the middle of the beach and began to set up.

You weren't the best at volleyball, but you had gotten better. You definitely still lost every time, but what mattered was that you enjoyed it.

Your group decided to play girls versus boys, which was mostly fair, as Sarah and Kiara both had some experience with volleyball. John B and Pope were a bit clumsy, but JJ was extremely experienced at the sport. He spent the most time on the beach growing up, so he had a lot of opportunities to learn.

You were shaking off your flip flops in anticipation when JJ came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your torso. He reached around and kissed your cheek as obnoxiously as he could muster.

"Mmwah!"

"Blech!" You hollered, amused. You turned around in his arms and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I think I might finally beat you today," you spoke playfully, and smiled softly at him.

"Oh, really?" he started. "We'll see about that."

With a wink and a smirk, he ran to the opposite side of the volleyball net, the sand becoming airborne with each step he took.

The first couple rounds of the game went alright; the score was tied. You and the girls were holding your own, but of course, JJ was showing off. He jumped and dove for every ball, never missing a beat.

You were about to serve the ball when you heard laughing nearby. You looked up to see a group of male tourists near you laughing and spiking volleyballs as hard as they could. Idiots, you thought to yourself and shook your head.

You returned to your serving position, moving your right fist back and forth to balance it and get the perfect spot. Before you could make your move, you heard JJ's voice holler.

"Y/N!"

You barely had time to react before something firm hit you in the face with enough force to knock you on your rear, your head flying back into the sand.

"Jesus," you exclaimed, hand coming up to grip your nose. You felt something warm and wet. Uh oh.

"What the fuck, man?" JJ's voice chimed through your ringing ears. "Were you dropped on your head or are you naturally that much of a goddamned idiot?"

Sarah and Kiara had made their way to you by this time. Helping you sit up, their panicked faces came into view and you waved them off, assuring them you were fine. They began looking around frantically, no doubt searching for something to stop the steady stream of blood gushing out of your nostrils.

Now that you were sat up, you could see through your tearful gaze that JJ was up in the face of one of the tourists that were spiking the ball. His nostrils were flared, his hand pointing towards you. The tourists hands were up in defense, frightened by JJ's extreme reaction.

"I asked you a fucking question! You just hit my girlfriend in the face because you wanted to go and do some dumbass shit!"

At the sight of JJ pulling on the collar of the tourist and John B and Pope unable to pull him off, you knew you needed to do something.

"JJ!" You hollered sternly, with as much force as you could in your current state.

His wide, blue eyes turned to you then, relaxing slightly at the sight of your face. Upon seeing the tears and blood flowing from your reddened face, though, his eyes filled with fury.

"Do you see her fucking face, dickhead? Do you see what you did?"

The tourist naturally turned then, to look at you, and JJ wasted no time in socking him in his nose, hard.

"JJ!" You practically screamed then, which got his attention. He dropped the collar of the young man, pushing him to the ground before running over to you.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled when he approached you. He tore off his tank top and held it to your face; the search for tissue by the girls proved to be fruitless.

"Did you have to hit him, Jayj?" You used your nickname for him, showing that you still appreciated him going to your defense.

"Yeah, actually, I did," he murmured, focusing on removing the blood from your face. "I can't believe he hit you this hard. Goddamn."

"Yeah," you mumbled, coughing. You held up your finger then, signaling JJ to stop. You then leaned over and spit, a pile of blood-filled spit coming out.

"Fuckin' hell." You saw JJ's jaw clench then, and he made a motion to get up. You knew he had every intention of finishing what he started with the tourist nearby.

"Stay here," you commanded, but finished the sentiment with a soft, "please."

JJ's eyes softened, and he looked over to where the tourist was icing his face. He had enough self-control to realize when his girlfriend needed him, despite his overwhelming desire to beat the young man. He wanted to make the man bleed at least as much as he had made his girlfriend bleed.

JJ crouched back down to your level and asked, "does it still hurt?"

"Not really," you assured him. "I could probably use some ice, though."

He popped up quickly, jogging the short distance to the cooler to retrieve some ice for you. He held it to your face with one hand, the other rubbing the tears away from your under-eyes. You didn't ever feel like you needed to cry; the tears must have been a reaction from getting hit in the nose.

"My poor baby," he gushed, pouting his bottom lip at you playfully. "I think it's best if you're done playing for the day, so in that case, I'd say you forfeit, and I win."

JJ grinned at you. You feigned shock, and retorted, "absolutely not. I can still kick your ass with or without a bloody nose."

-----

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#obx jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx fluff #obx jj x reader #angst #flangst #fluff #outer banks hurt/comfort #outer banks fluff #outer banks imagine

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ghxst-guts · 5 months ago

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"emily..." her voice trailed off as emily's lips ghosted her neck. jj's mind was racing, her heart throbbing, she's wanted this for so long but all she can think about is her husband whom she is betraying by allowing herself this moment of long awaited joy.

"jayje?" emily spoke hesitatly, knowing what was occupying the blonde's mind. "it's okay i-" emily began to talk right as jj cut her off, jj's hand in emily's. "no. em, i do want this. i want you. just let me break things off with will first? then we can have our happy ending?" jj bit her lip.

there was a knock at emily's door. who could it be? it was 11pm at night and she wasn't expecting anyone. emily arose form her couch, grabbing a knife from her kitchen just in case. she peaked through her peephole to find a teary eyed jj standing outside. immediately emily put down the knife and unlocked the door.

"jayje.." emily sighed, holding the small girl against her. she closed the door behind them. jj's arms wrapped around the taller woman. "i did it. i did it em, so please let me have this, let me finally have you.." jayje sniffled, using her sleeve to wipe her tears.

emily didn't want to do this if jj was upset, she didn't want jj to feel like they had to do it just because she broke things off with her husband.

"jayje, you're obviously upset, i would be taking advantage of you. you know i want you, want this, but not like this. let's sleep on it, alright babes?" emily spoke softly, running her hands through the blonde's silky hair.

want more criminal minds?

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whorefordean · 1 year ago

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can you do 17 with jj maybank from the hurt/comfort prompts? I love your writing sm <33

to lie with you in the dark j.m

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: none i think? sad reader but that’s about it

prompt: “im just so sad.” “what can i do?” “just be here.”

a/n: i did not proofread this and it’s late so there’s probably mistakes lol i hope you enjoy

the sound of your friends laughing filling the restaurant brought a small smile to your face, though it only lasted for a few seconds before it inevitably fell. you were meant to be joining them after clocking out from your shift, but you didn’t feel like socializing at the moment.

you approached the table causing everyone to turn to look at you with smiling faces. you offered a soft smile in return.

“hey, guys, i think i’m just gonna go on and head home. i’m exhausted,” you told the group, not bothering to slide into your usual spot beside jj. you avoided his gaze, instead opting to look at the girls who were currently pouting at you.

“we can hang our tomorrow. promise,” you compromised. the girls nodded in agreement and said their goodbyes. jj stood to give you a kiss on your cheek.

“you okay, baby?” he whispered in your ear as he pulled you into a hug. you nodded softly, though it was a lie. you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, and your throat ached so terribly that you didn’t trust your voice to come out evenly.

instead, you blinked back your tears and gave jj your best smile. he seemed convinced enough and pressed one final kiss to your head. you pressed a kiss to jj’s shoulder then left the restaurant. as you approached your car, you couldn’t hold off the tears any longer. there was no actual reason you were crying. work was fine like usual. no rude customers. no unfortunate mishaps that resulted in injury. but the unforgiving ache in your chest was eating you alive.

the drive back to your house was silent, aside from the sniffling that echoed through your car. the heavy rain pounded against your windshield, not letting up as you pulled into your driveway and exited the car. in no rush, you made your way inside, the freezing rain making you shiver.

the house was dark when you entered though you weren’t surprised. everything felt dark lately.

quiet footsteps echoed throughout the house as you slowly drifted towards your bedroom to gather some clean clothes. after deciding on your comfiest pair of pajamas, you slowly wandered into the bathroom to shower. after undressing and stepping into the shower, you allowed the hot water to run down your back, loosening the tension resting between your shoulders.

without warning, a loud sob racked through your body. you allowed yourself to wail shamelessly into the dim room. unbeknownst to you, the front door was still unlocked from when you had arrived earlier allowing jj to enter with no problems.

he had left the restaurant only a few minutes after you. call it a gut feeling. he had let himself into your home, and immediately, his heart broke. your loud sobs echoed through your otherwise quiet home.

jj quickly made his way upstairs to your bedroom, only to be disappointed when he saw it was empty. his attention quickly focused on the rushing water, and he moved to your bathroom.

he tapped his knuckles against the wooden door, hoping you’d hear him as he didn’t want to scare you. jj sighed when he heard you continue to sob instead of answering. he slowly opened the door and let himself into your bathroom. jj pulled the curtain back, revealing himself to you.

however, his presence was still unknown to you due to your face being buried in your hands. jj frowned as he watched the water beating down on your back, so hot that your skin had turned bright red.

he slowly turned the water down, allowing it to cool for a few moments before taking his muddy boots off and stepping in otherwise fully clothed.

warm arms wrapped around you, causing you to jump and a small yelp to escape your lips. your eyes immediately found jj’s and you leaned into him, allowing him to hold you up just as your knees buckled.

“what’s wrong, baby?” jj cooed softly into your ear, holding you tight.

“i’m just so sad, jj,” you wept softly. you nails were digging into jj’s arms as you burrowed your face into his shoulder.

“what can i do? tell me how to make it better,” jj begged desperately. it was torture to see his girl hurting so much. he felt helpless as you clutched onto him, crying into his soaked shirt.

“just be here. just need you to be here, j,” you plead to your boyfriend. jj help you tighter upon hearing your request.

“i’m right here. i’ll always be right here with you,” jj promised. he brushed some of your wet hair away from your face, prompting you to look up at him.

“let’s get out, okay. you need to rest,” jj instructed. you nodded and allowed him to turn off the water and help you out of the shower.

jj helped dry you off and get you dressed. pulling the covers down, he watched as you slipped underneath them. a frown formed on your tear-stained face as you watched him start to walk away.

“i’m just going to change, sweetheart. i’ll be right back,” jj laughed softly while rifling through the spare drawer of your dresser filled with his clothes. he left to change and quickly reappeared, tossing his clothes and yours into the hamper in the corner of the room. jj flicked off the lights. the moonlight drifted in through the blinds. it was quiet.

jj laid down beside you, quickly pulling your body closer to him. with your head resting on jj’s broad chest, you mumbled a soft “thank you” while jj played with your wet hair.

“don’t thank me for caring. i’ll be here to lie with you in the dark, always. it’s what you deserve, and i know if the roles were reversed you’d do the same thing for me,” jj mumbled back as he placed soft kisses to the top of your head. instead of answering, you lightly nodded and kissed jj’s chest, right above his heart.

#jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank hurt/comfort #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks #obx

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starkeyshirt · 5 months ago

Text

Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

<<•>>

JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

"Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

"Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

"J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

"Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

"Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

"Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

"Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

"Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

"C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

"It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

"Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

"You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

"Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

"Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

"Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

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somber-sapphic · 6 months ago

Note

hii could you possibly do a jj x reader book where reader is in denial abt being ill 🫶

Too Far

〖Summary: You and JJ have a fight about your health. This is my attempt at angst (with a happy-ish ending), just a heads up that I am still practicing so it may not count as real angst and instead h/c.〗

〖Word Count: 〗

〖Pairing: JJ x Sick R〗

〖Notes: Every time I drink caffeine for writing I think it's a great idea because I'll be able to write so much but then I focus on something that isn't writing for several hours. I played too much Toon Blast. Also this is sort of edited but not that thoroughly〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing?” JJ asked, her words laden with exasperation. You looked up from the case file and raised an eyebrow. The two of you had been snippy with each other all day, each of your nerves fraying as the days without catching the killer went on. The fact that Hotch had ordered you to the hotel made everything worse, the guilt of not being able to help the victims eating at you.

“You want to check your tone?” You snapped back, the hoarseness of your voice taking a bit away from the punch you meant to deliver. It was probably for the best, the combination of exhaustion, stress, and what seemed like more than just the sniffles was making you bitter. JJ rolled her eyes and walked over to the desk, dropping the CVS bag beside the papers you had been studying for hours.

“Cold medicine. Take it. And seriously, put the file away and lie down.” You rolled your eyes, something that caused an explosion of pain in your head, but it seemed worth it for the passive aggressiveness. You didn’t want her to know how bad you were starting to feel, you couldn’t give in to the pressure of the team, and everyone worked while they were sick.

Your fever, stuffy nose, cough, and the pressure in your sinuses were not more important than catching a serial killer. Although the fever was really starting to bother you, weighing down your head and making your eyes burn. And your nose hurt from blowing it so often. And your body ached so badly that it felt like your bones were being squeezed. And your throat felt like you had lived off of a diet of lemon juice and broken glass.

“I don’t need cold medicine because I don’t have a cold. Why are you here anyway, I don't need a babysitter. Don’t you have families to interview?” JJ let out a harsh laugh and plopped herself down onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in clear frustration. What the two of you needed was a bit of space before a serious conversation but it wasn’t an option given the current situation.

“Right, of course not. The obvious cold symptoms are nothing, you’re shivering in a 75-degree hotel room because of a nonexistent draft. And believe me, I don’t want to be here right now but Hotch doesn’t trust you alone.” That last comment cut deep and her face clouded with guilt as soon as she said it. She knew it was too far but it only hardened your resolve.

“Then leave, there are six other people who could be here it doesn’t need to be you.”

“Why won’t you just admit being sick? Why? You are not helping anyone here, the only thing you’re doing is hurting yourself. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” JJ exploded, dragging a hand through her slightly greasy hair. She’d been too preoccupied with your health and the case to have time for more than a quick shower.

“Do you honestly think I want to work like this? Of course, I feel like shit, my entire body is on fucking fire but if I stop working people will die!” You yelled back, tears brimming in your eyes. You’d finally said it out loud. You’d admitted to the thoughts that had been swirling inside of you, keeping you from even allowing people to talk about the way you felt.

JJ’s face fell as you felt tears that you couldn’t blink away beginning to run down your fever flushed cheeks. You barely had a handle on your emotions before but now the walls had crumbled to dust and you couldn’t take it. You felt so shitty for so many reasons, it was so hot in your skin and you were struggling to keep case facts straight in your head which only upset you further.

“Sweetheart,” JJ murmured, taking a half step forward. She’d seen you break down before but never on a case, when it happened it was always at home.

“No! No! JJ we’ve been here for weeks, he keeps taking them and we don’t even know why, we can't tell these people anything. They hate us, they have every right to fucking hate us! There has to be something missing and-and I can't just sit here and do nothing while people are dying!” You were sobbing now, your chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself down. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, a self-soothing method that usually worked to calm you down. The switch had been flipped, you were acting on pure misery.

“Y/n, honey you said it earlier. There are six other profilers doing everything they can to find the killer. You being sick is not your fault but it is something we need to take care of. If you keep going like this you’re going to mess up, you’re going to hurt yourself, there are so many reasons why you need to rest. Come here, lay down, let me take help you. Please.”

She was right. You hated it, but she was. You were already mixing up facts about victims in your head, there was really no way that you could be of any use right now. The last thing you wanted to do was stop but even worse would be providing false information that would throw the team off the trail.

Despite your hesitation, it didn’t take long for JJ to get you settled into bed. She was working with the determination of a worried mother hen, moving quickly to check your temperature, feed you some medicine, and put a cool cloth on your head. You huddled under the fluffy duvet, your body already beginning to shut down now that you weren’t forcing yourself to work.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I haven't been fair.” JJ said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She flipped the cloth on your forehead, sending a wave of cold through your body. You didn’t like it but she insisted that it needed to be there.

“Neither have I. But I can’t right now. Can we wait until we’re home?” You pleaded, voice exuding weakness. Even if you wanted to have that conversation there was no way it would be productive in your current state. JJ nodded in agreement and let out a deep sigh.

Nothing had really been resolved. The apologies from both were surface-level at best but at least there was an admission of wrongdoing on both sides. Your jobs had been hard on the relationship, harder than either of you had thought it would be. For now, the discussion would be tabled, saved for a time when the two of you were in a space to have it. It might not have been perfect but it was better than nothing.

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#sickfic #fever #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #sick reader #sick fanfic #angst #sick you #sick y/n #jennifer jareau #jj x reader #jj x you #hurt/angst #hurt/comfort #flu #fever whump #sick whump #criminal minds sickfic #attempt at angst

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Cigarettes [S. R.]

Best friend!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

Summary: Spencer comforts you after you learn some bad news about your relationship.

contents: hurt/comfort, talk about addictions, smoking, insomnia, cheating, mention of traumas (mainly from Spencer) no really romantic feelings. Thought at some point in season 4

Spencer rolled over in the hotel bed again, for perhaps the fifth time in less than half an hour, and knowing that lying down was useless, he got up to turn on the light. The trip to Los Angeles had been exhausting and by the nature of the case you had had to move all over the city during the day, so he was tired, but he just couldn't sleep.

There had been a lot going on in his life lately and ever since the trip to Vegas and meeting his father he had been feeling a little restless, despite the surprising turn things had ended up taking, and that included having a few bad dreams or not having them at all.

He took out the folders with information on the case and tried to go through them to find anything that would be useful, but after a couple of minutes he realized that he couldn't concentrate and this only ended up frustrating him. Suddenly he remembered that he had seen a small terrace when you were just getting settled and he thought that, with any luck, he could stay there for a while to get some fresh air and clear his mind. He just took the room keys and headed down the hall, passing a rather inebriated couple who were struggling to open the door between giggles. For some reason this amused him and he even thought about coming back to help them, but in the end he didn't.

When he felt the night breeze, he was grateful for having put on a cardigan and was so lost in thought of him that he didn't even realize there was already a person on the terrace until said presence turned to look at him.

“Oh, sorry, I…” he started to say, but his words trailed off when he realized who it was “Y/N?”

"Reid," you said, sounding a bit taken aback. The first thing Spencer noticed was the smoke surrounding you and suddenly his gaze fell to the lit cigarette in your hand.

He didn't want to say anything at first, so he just walked over to you and leaned against the railing.

“Six minutes”

"I know" you muttered defeated.

Spencer had once told you that for every cigarette you smoked, you were subtracting six minutes from your life, and when the situation demanded it, he would remind you. Even with this you took another puff, which worried the man watching you.

You two had a rather unique relationship, unlike the one you had with any other team member. When Tobias Hankel kidnapped him, despite the fact that you had known each other for relatively few years, you were the only one who dared to confront his apathetic and hostile attitude to ask him what the hell was happening with his life. Initially you thought it was just the aftermath of the trauma, but over the days you realized there was something else. You knew how to recognize an addict because you were one, even though the source of it was completely different.

When you suggested such a thing he was reluctant to talk to you, and of course you didn't blame him, until after a few weeks one night he knocked on the door of your hotel room to finally confess things to you. When he found out about your smoking problems in some sick way he was glad that you could understand him so well and at that moment he brought the two of you together inexplicably. You started attending AA meetings without anyone else knowing and after some effort you agreed to make a pact; you weren't going to smoke if he didn't inject Dilaudid. And to avoid this, every time you thought about doing it, you would turn to the other to make you see reason.

It was obvious that you had just broken that promise and you probably didn't expect him to find out, but your friend's insomnia problems had conspired terribly against you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. You were a short distance away so instinctively your hand moved away so the smoke wouldn't bother the man, but your body sought the warmth of his on its own.

You didn't answer for a while and he thought that perhaps the case had affected you more and he wondered why you hadn't gone looking for him like you always did, even coming to believe that he had made some mistake that made you lose trust in him. During that dead time Spencer noticed how your eyes glazed over as you looked at the horizon, and then you finally spoke, but not before bringing the cigarette to your lips again.

“I think Paul is cheating on me”

How was Spencer supposed to respond to that? Paul had been your boyfriend for a year and, to be honest, he had always disliked him. He was a conceited idiot who in his opinion didn't deserve even the smallest bit of your affection, but since he was attractive and you seemed too enamored he never dared to say anything to you about it. More than once you had come to work with clear signs of having cried the night before and Spencer knew that as soon as he saw a mark of violence in you he would summon all the courage he had to face that man and file a complaint against him if necessary. And now that you were crying over him and smoking again because of him, Spencer felt her blood boil.

"Why do you think that?"

“He's been really weird lately” you exclaimed shakily “And it wasn't even his behavior, but… there was something about him. I mean, we're profilers, we can tell when something's not right, you know what I mean?” You still didn't look at him, but this didn't stop him from nodding. "It's been weeks, so I became suspicious and started paying more attention to the things he said, how I looked, his clothes, everything. Last night when he got into the shower he left his work phone unlocked and even though I knew he was avoiding his privacy I was too curious so I checked it and found too many calls to the same number. I wrote it and this morning I sent a message from my own phone pretending to be him from a new number and… well, you can imagine”

"Did she say something suspicious?"

“She asked me when we would see each other and she said that she missed me. So I called just to check and indeed a woman answered, so it is not difficult to reach a conclusion” at this point a few tears were already slipping down your cheeks, so to swallow them you sucked again on the tobacco; deeply and guiltily satisfying "I'm sorry I'm breaking our pact, but I really didn't know what else to do"

"It’s fine" he replied immediately "I mean, it's not fine that you're doing this, but... I think it's understandable."

"The worst thing is that it's not even a good cigarette" you sighed bitterly and then you finally turned your gaze to see him. He hated seeing you like this "What were you doing here anyway?"

“I couldn't sleep and I thought I'd get some air” he explained to you. Spencer didn't want to talk about himself that night, but he wanted to know in depth the nature of your state and make sure that you would be okay. "But you, what will you do?"

“Break up with him, that's a given. I honestly don't even want to ask for an explanation because I don't want to hear lies. The only thing that worries me is where I will sleep for the next few months when I take my things out of our apartment”

"Stay with me" the words came out without thinking and with such certainty, that they forced you to look at him immediately "I don't have much space, but I can sleep on the couch and you stay in the bed"

"I was thinking of asking Garcia" upon hearing this his cheeks turned red, because although you were good friends it was obvious that you would prefer to stay with a woman "But you are very sweet to offer it, Spence. I would love to sleep on your couch."

"In bed. I would take the couch” he clarified and for the first time that night, you smiled. It wasn't a smile that reached the corner of your eyes, but at least it was something.

Spencer wanted to reach out to take the cigarette from you, but he knew he had to at least give you the pleasure of that slip. While he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, he thought that you looked beautiful in profile and although he would never admit it, the smoke gave you a certain interesting touch that highlighted your qualities, as well as inevitably drawing attention to your lips, which were slightly dry at that moment.

"And you know what hurts me? That I keep wondering what I did wrong. Maybe it's that I spend too much time at work or I just… I don't know, maybe I wasn't good enough anymore."

“Don't say that,” he demanded, sounding almost annoyed. “Men cheat almost half as often as women, and their motives are usually sexually selfish. You have irregular hours at work, so what? A person who truly loved you wouldn't do that just because he can't see you as often. The problem is him because he's an idiot who doesn't know how to value you and honestly, I didn't expect less from him, because this just shows that he's a shitty person who feels like he can do that with women just because. So I don't want you to blame yourself for that, you are not the problem. And if you do then I'll rattle off every stat I know of that contradicts you. And I know a lot of them."

"Sure you do" you half laughed, at the accusing finger of your friend. He had spoken too fast and the curse words he said amused you, since it was not very common to hear the correct and kind Dr. Reid express himself like that.

The fire in your hand was dying out and with some regret you took what you knew was the last drag on your cigarette, enjoying it more than the rest, knowing that you might not do it again for a long time. He looked at you carefully and then picked up the end to deposit it in one of the containers that were around.

“I don't know what I can do for you. But if there's something that makes you feel better, you know you can ask for it, right?" he offered cautiously. Although he knew the facts, he had never had to comfort a friend in a situation of this nature, so he didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing.

"Another cigarette?" you asked hopefully, but his serious face told you that this wasn’t a possibility.

"Be honest with me, was that the first one or had you smoked during these days?"

“The first and will be the last. I swear" you replied, while with your finger you drew a cross over your heart. You knew that his insistence was only to keep you well and deep down you were very grateful to him "Do you know what else would make me feel better now?"

"What?"

"A hug" you confessed in a whisper.

A second later Spencer had already closed the distance between you to press you against his warm body and your arms slipped under his cardigan. You felt the soft fabric of his shirt caressing your cheek and that's when you started to cry. When he heard your first sob, he felt a tug in his chest and his head rested against yours, as if he was seeking to shelter you completely.

There was something in the man's hugs that made you feel safe and calm at the same time, as if they transmitted some kind of inexplicable peace to you. You knew that sometimes he wasn't a big fan of physical contact, however, he had never denied it to you. You continued to cry for a while and he didn't stop holding you for a second, both physically and emotionally.

"You should get some sleep" he whispered to you when he thought you were calmer, while he carefully rubbed the lower part of your back "Rest will help you feel better"

"I don't think I can do it"

"I'll stay with you," he offered. It was enough to speak in whispers so that you could hear him “If you want. I couldn't sleep before coming either."

"We're both screwed, huh, Reid?" you muttered ruefully and he chuckled.

"We are"

"But I'm still glad to have you," you said sincerely. You pulled away a little to see him and he let his hand go by itself to your cheek to wipe away all traces of tears with his thumb "You are a good friend"

The man's heart warmed at your words and he smiled tenderly as he gently stroked the side of your face.

"Things will be fine, I promise. You don't need that guy to be happy"

“Sometimes I wish I didn't love him, you know? I would like to be able to fall in love with someone good and kind, who is really worth it"

"You'll find them" he smiled genuinely "For now you'll have to settle for my company"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you half laughed, your palms resting firmly on his waist, and then you were silent for a few seconds.

“Do you want to go back inside?" he suggested, seeing you yawn, and then you agreed. Crying had exhausted you and if he made good on his promise to stay in your room you'd probably drop out in a couple of minutes.

During the way you missed his warmth and as soon as you arrived you pulled him towards the bed to encourage him to sleep with you. It wasn't awkward or had an ulterior motive, it was just the two of you lying in the same bed.

"Reid?" you spoke in the dark

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being here. I love you" you confessed. Spencer reached up to cover both of you with the sheet, then ventured in to place a hesitant kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too"

And with the feeling of those words firmly planted in your chest, you two finally fell asleep.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14@spencerslove

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0o-junebug-o0 · 5 months ago

Text

Just To Hear Her Voice

Here's my first Criminal Minds fic!

summary: In the aftermath of Emily's death, Spencer starts calling and texting her number to cope as his life spirals down around him. He has no idea that halfway across the world, Emily is listening.

content: drug addiction, grief/mourning, angst, hurt/comfort, near relapse, angst with a happy ending

word count: 3.2k

Spencer calls Emily for the first time a week after her death. He’s sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest on the floor of his apartment, pressed between a chair and the wall, rocking forward and backward. He holds the phone to his ear and sobs when he hears Emily’s voice.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

The dial tone sounds. Spencer chokes on a sob and hangs up. He redials the number.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

He hangs up before the tone and calls again.

He only speaks on the sixth call.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

The dial tone sounds and Spencer takes a deep, shaky breath. “H-hi, Emily. I, um, I don’t know why I’m calling you. It’s– it’s not like you’re going to answer. You’re dead. I helped carry your coffin. It—” A sob pushes up his throat and cuts him off. “It was so heavy,” he whispers.

He bows his head and presses his knees against his face, he can feel the tears seeping through the fabric of his slacks. “I just– I really miss you. It doesn’t feel real, none of this feels real. I’m sorry. I—” Spencer cuts himself off with a wet chuckle. “I should go eat something.”

Spencer pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up. He doesn’t push himself off the floor for another three hours and when he does he goes straight to his room.

He calls her again three days later just to hear her voice. He doesn’t speak.

Spencer lays on the floor of a Nashville hotel room four weeks and six days after Emily’s death and dials her number.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

He waits for the tone.

“I saw someone that looks like you today,” he says weakly. He breathes deeply and stares at the ceiling, tracing the perimeter of the room with his eyes. “It was uncanny. I, um, I really thought she was you. I was with Rossi, heading back to the Nashville police station, we’re on our first case since—” he pauses unable to finish the sentence. “It was good he was there. I might have called your name if he wasn’t. It feels wrong without you here.” Unable to think of anything else to say, Spencer hangs up.

He doesn’t know that halfway across the world his voicemails are transferred from one phone to another and Emily Prentiss, newly arrived in Paris, listens to them and cries.

After the case in Nashville, calling Emily becomes a part of Spencer’s routine. Most of the time he doesn’t talk, unable to force himself to speak, and just listens to her voice. On those days he goes over to JJ’s house once he hangs up and cries in her arms.

Emily receives records of those calls too, the times and dates are sent to her new phone and she stares at them when they arrive, hoping that she’s not the only person Spencer is talking to.

After three months he shifts from leaving messages to texting because it’s easier than talking. He still calls to listen to her voice but always hangs up before the tone. He texts her about his day, about the cases they’re working on without giving away any details, about how much he misses her. He still goes to JJ’s house at least once a week, he feels safer there on bad days.

Five months and thirteen days after her death, Spencer calls Emily’s number and yells.

“You should have told us! We could have helped you! We’re family, Emily! It’s our job to take care of each other.” Spencer's voice cracks and he lets out a screaming sob as he grabs a plate from the sink and throws it to the floor. “And now you’re dead! You’re dead and there’s nothing we can do about it! You’re so fucking stupid, Emily! We– we could have helped you! I hate you! I hate you! Why’d you have to leave?” He falls to the floor and trails off into uncontrollable sobs, not caring that the ceramic shards dig into his knees and the palm of his hand. He leans against the cabinets next to him and sobs, painfully and violently. He knows he’s being loud, loud enough that his neighbors can probably hear him but he can’t bring himself to care, not when he feels like he’s dying. He slams his head against the cabinet and the pain of it combined with the pain of the ceramic stuck in his skin helps ground him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice wet with tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t hate you. I promise I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry. I could never hate you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeats those two words until his phone dies in his hand eleven minutes later.

Halfway across the world, Emily Prentiss sits in her Paris apartment, listens to the voicemail, and cries.

Spencer doesn’t call or text for twenty-four days after that. He knows she’s dead. He knows she can’t hear or see what he says to her, but he feels painfully guilty for his last voicemail. The kind of guilt that burrows into his chest and stays there, squeezing tight around his heart and lungs whenever he thinks about it.

He lays awake in a hotel bed in Sedona, Arizona staring at the ceiling. With a sigh, he rolls onto his side, grabs his phone from the nightstand, and opens his text conversation with Emily.

“I don’t know why I’m still doing this,” he types. Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I know you’re not going to see this, but I want to say I’m sorry again for when I last called. I don’t hate you. I promise I don’t hate you. I was just angry and sad and didn’t know what to do. I don’t know why I still feel so stuck. Obviously, everyone else is still sad but they seem to be moving on while I’m still here.” He sends the message and pauses for a moment. “I’ve been craving again, ever since you died. It’s getting worse the longer it’s been. I don’t know why. I thought it would get easier but it’s just getting harder. I’m scared, Emily.” His finger hovers over the send button before he changes his mind and deletes the message. He’s not going to tell anyone that, not even someone dead. Emily doesn’t deserve that. “I miss you,” he writes. He hits send and puts his phone back on the nightstand, curling into a ball with the comforter pulled up to his chin.

He squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around his chest, trying not to scratch at the crook of his arm and trying not to think about getting high.

The next two weeks pass in a haze and Spencer can feel himself getting worse. He calls and texts Emily’s number more frequently and visits JJ’s house nearly every other day. Being around Henry is the only thing keeping him from contacting his old dealer. He would never bring that shit into their home, he would never even think of being high around his godson.

Spencer sits curled in on himself between a chair and the wall of his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

The tone sounds. “I miss you, Emily,” he says, his voice weak around the lump in his throat. “It’s not getting easier, but I’m alright.” That’s a lie. He doesn’t know why he’s lying. Emily’s dead. She’s not going to hear it anyway. But he just can’t bring himself to say it. He hangs up.

Three days later, Spencer calls JJ to ask if he can come over. She apologizes and tells him that Henry has the flu and passed it on to Will. He tells her it’s okay and hangs up.

Forty-five hours later he calls a number he deleted from his contacts years ago.

Sixteen hours later Spencer is curled up on his couch, staring at the unopened vial of Dilaudid sitting on his coffee table next to a packaged needle.

He knows he shouldn’t do this. He doesn’t want to. But he needs it.

He feels frozen, his whole body is shaking. He rubs his eyes hard and continues to stare at the vial. He knows he should call someone but he’s scared and ashamed. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.

His hand shakes violently as he reaches for his phone and selects Emily’s contact. She’s dead. He can call her. She won’t know and maybe calling will give him the courage to dump it down the drain.

The first ring startles him and he waits silently, tears streaming down his cheeks as the phone continues to ring.

“This is Emily Prentiss. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I will call you back.”

The tone sounds and Spencer speaks.

______

Emily's phone pings as a new voicemail is transferred to her phone. She looks at her phone with surprise. It’s eight am in Paris and two am in DC. It’s much later than Spencer usually calls.

She turns her volume on and selects the voice message.

The first thing she hears is a shaky sob she’s become painfully familiar with.

“Hi, Emily. I don’t know why I’m calling,” Spencer mutters. His voice sounds completely broken and almost dead. “Actually, that’s– that’s not true. I know why I’m calling.” There’s a pause and all she can hear is the shaky sound of Spencer breathing and crying softly. “I can’t call anyone else.” He sighs. “I’m, um, I’m sitting in my living room in– in front of a needle and a vial of Dilaudid.” Emily’s stomach drops and she shoots to her feet. A broken sob plays from her phone. Panic builds rapidly in her chest and she hopes, prays, that Spencer hasn’t taken any yet. She’s pulled from her thoughts when he starts to speak again. “I don’t want to,” he whispers. “I promise I don’t want to. It’s just too much, I—” his voice breaks. “I need it, Em.” Emily raises her hand to cover her mouth as tears stream down her cheeks. This is her fault. This is all her fault. She should’ve told everyone.

“I’m so sorry, Em. I just– I really miss you. I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The playback ends and Emily immediately rushes to the toilet to vomit because that sounded horrifyingly like a suicide note. She coughs violently and spits into the toilet. She doesn’t even take the time to flush it before she clicks on Spencer’s number and her phone is ringing.

Halfway across the world, Spencer sobs as he rolls up his sleeve and wraps his belt around his upper arm. The sterile plastic crinkles as he removes the needle. He holds it and wishes he wasn’t like this. Wishes he was a better, stronger person. He reaches to grab the vial but as the tips of his fingers touch the cool class his phone rings.

He startles, almost dropping the needle. Too large a part of him is glad he didn’t drop it because that means it’s still clean and he can still use it. He slips the needle back into the plastic packaging and sets it back down on the coffee table but he doesn’t undo the belt around his arm. His hand shakes violently as he picks up his phone.

He stares at the screen for a moment, it’s a number he doesn’t recognize with a Paris area code. He doesn’t know why but he answers it.

“Spencer!” Emily’s voice gasps through his phone.

Spencer stares wide-eyed at the phone without responding. This isn’t happening, this isn’t real. She’s dead. He must be having a schizophrenic break, he’s the right age for it and he’s hearing the voice of his dead friend.

“Spencer!” the voice says again. He refuses to think of it as Emily’s voice. It’s not her voice, it can’t be because if it is that means she’s alive. That means that she and Hotch and who knows how many other members of his team have been lying to him for months. That means she heard and read all his messages. That means she heard him say that he bought Dilaudid and is about to shoot up. “Please, Spencer! Please answer me. Oh, God.”

“E-Emily?” he asks, his voice breaking. He hates that part of him believes it might actually be her.

“Yes, fuck. Yes, it’s me, Spencer, please tell me you’re okay,” she gasps. Spencer can hear her crying.

“Is–is this real? I’m not having a schizophrenic break?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean this is real!” Emily stutters. “I’m real. I’m alive. I’m so so sorry. But please, Spencer, tell me you haven’t done anything.”

Spencer doesn’t respond, just staring in disbelief at his phone. A moment later his phone beeps and a button appears at the bottom of the screen. Without thinking he presses it and immediately Emily’s face fills his screen. Her face is pale and her hair is all over the place and she looks terrified. She stares at him with wide eyes. In the bottom right corner is himself, and for the first time in sixty-one hours and twenty-three minutes, Spencer looks at himself. His face is red and blotchy and the bags under his eyes look like bruises. His hair is greasy and knotted. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, his right sleeve is rolled up, and he can see the belt cinched around his arm.

“Spencer?” Emily asks, and her lips move on his phone as she speaks. “Did you—”

He cuts her off with a shake of the head and with a shaking hand, undoes the belt around his arm and lets it fall to the floor. “I was— I was about to,” he admits, his voice weak and wet. “I took out the needle. You called right— right as I grabbed the bottle.”

Spencer can see the panic fade from Emily’s face. “Okay, okay,” she says, her voice breathy with relief. “Thank God. Okay. Spencer, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He nods and says nothing.

“I need you to pick up the bottle and dump it.”

Spencer immediately bursts into tears. “I-I can’t, Em. I can’t!” he cries. “I want to but I can’t. You were dead. I helped carry your coffin! I can’t! It was so bad. I need it! I need to not feel!” He knows he’s not making any sense but by the look of her face, he can tell Emily understands.

“I know,” she says softly. “I know. But I need you to do this for me. Please, Spencer.”

He bows his head and sobs ugly and violent sobs.

“You’re going to be okay, Spencer. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

“But you weren’t!” he screams, the anger in his chest finally boiling over. “You weren’t here! You left! You lied! You let us believe you were dead! You let us mourn you! I hate you, Emily! I fucking hate you!”

Spencer looks up at the phone when Emily doesn’t respond and freezes when he sees the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I–I’m sorry,” he says, panicked. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you. I promise I don’t hate you! Please, Emily, please. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I— fuck!” Spencer drops his phone on the couch and pushes himself to his feet, grabbing the needle and vial of Dilaudid as he stands.

“Spencer? Spencer!” Emily cries frantically through his phone. He doesn’t respond and practically sprints into his kitchen. Quickly, before he can regret it, he breaks off the tip of the needle and stabs it into a banana to make it safe and throws it and the rest of the needle in the trash. He unscrews the cap of the vial and dumps it down the kitchen sink. He sobs as he watches the liquid flow down the drain. The vial slips from his fingertips and he sinks to the floor. He says there until he’s sure all of the drug is gone before shakily pushing himself up, rinsing out the vial with water, and throwing it in the trash with the broken needle.

He stumbles back into the living room and picks up his phone to see Emily panicking. She opens her mouth to speak but Spencer interrupts her. “I dumped it,” he says weakly.

“Oh thank, God,” Emily sighs with relief. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Who knew?” he demands.

“What?”

“Who knew you were alive?”

“Just– just Hotch and JJ. But don’t be mad at them, please. I had no choice. Hotch knows because he’s Unit Chief and JJ only knows because she was assigned to making me disappear. It was too much of a risk to tell anyone else.”

Spencer scoffs. “What? You didn’t trust us? You don’t think we can keep a secret as important as this?”

A pained look crosses Emily’s face. “No,” she insists. “No that’s not it at all. I know all of you would have kept this a secret. I trust all of you with my life. But I couldn’t risk you knowing because it would put you in danger. Doyle will do anything to get to me. I wish even JJ and Hotch didn’t know, but I didn’t get a say in that. But I did get one in protecting you. You don’t– you don’t have to forgive me, or– or even be okay with it, but please—” a small sob cuts her off. “Please, I just need you to understand.”

Spencer stares at her for a while before slowly nodding. “I understand,” he whispers. “I hate it and I’m mad and I don’t forgive you yet but I understand.”

“Thank you,” Emily sighs weakly. “That’s all I ask. I just want you to be safe, that’s why I called, even though I have been ordered not to contact any of you. I couldn’t– I couldn’t let you relapse.”

Spencer nods weakly.

“I just need you to be okay,” she sobs softly.

“I’m not okay,” he admits, another sob forces its way up his throat. “I need help, Em. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m going to call JJ, okay? And she’s going to come pick you up. I'm so proud of you.”

Spencer nods. “I love you, Emily.”

“I love you too, Spence. I’ll stay on the line until she gets here. I’m not leaving you.”

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

If anyone wants to be tagged in future fics, just let me know! Also if you have something you'd like me to write, my requests are always open!

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