#anyways -lies on the floor- spencer…

[hkpika07]

We’ve seen younger Gordon, but Have you ever thought about what a younger flying Scotsman and Spencer looked like in your au??

Scotsman does not have a younger avatar. He only has the one he was built with. This is to show how much he’s stuck in the past and hasn’t changed.

Spencer however…. At first I didn’t know how to make him look. He has tons of avatars present day due to needing them for all the different events the Duke and Duchess bring him to. But for the past? That was tricky. After Umi and I discussed it for a bit we decided that Spencer before Lady’s disappearance was pompous and prideful to the max. Before he was adopted by the Duke and Duchess he used to have friends, albeit shallow ones. Those friends abandoned him once he became a private engine though. Many engines hated him and were jealous of his status, being not only a private engine but also a Gresly. And instead of coping and handling the sadness and betrayal like a normal person he propped himself up on a higher pedestal, thinking “You don’t need them. You are a private Engine, private engines don’t associate with those of lower status”. He wraps himself up in his job and duties thinking it’s all he needs but as time goes on he becomes lonely and this warps his behavior into something of a chameleon. Changing how he acts depending on where he is (which explains his inconsistent character in the show). -lies on the floor- Spencer….

Anyways here’s pre-disappearance Spencer. The Duke and Duchess definitely humble him somewhat after they adopt him.

[juniperskye]

Stick to What You Know.

Sneak peek: Reader is asked to join the BAU by none other than Director Cruz himself. She is a child psychologist and Cruz thought she would make a great asset; it would seem though that Agent Hotchner doesn’t agree.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst

Word count: 3134

Guys...I feel like this is shit, I wrote it in like 3 hours soo…. it’s not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap, some language, one use of y/n I think, Hotch is a DICK in this for a minute (SORRY), reader has children, talk of dissociative identity disorder (in reference to a case), canon case talk/info, mention of murder (in reference to a case), Reader in a child psychologist, reader is friends with Director Mateo Cruz, implied death of Haley. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed anything!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You were so late. You were thanking the lord that you knew Mateo well from having previously worked with him, otherwise your lateness would probably come across as a lack of seriousness or appreciation for the strings he had pulled to get you here. And of course, being lost in thought while simultaneously rushing through an unfamiliar building had you barreling into a handsome stranger…or maybe a handsome acquaintance.

“I am so sorry!” You’d hurried out.

His large hands steadied you with a gentle but firm grasp on your arms. Your eyes glance upward to meet his.

“No worries, are you alright?” He offered.

“I’m good thank you. Wait, you’re Aaron Hotchner, I’ve sat in on a few of your lectures at the university.”

“I am, and thank you, I hope you were able to take something from them.”  He blushed.

“I did, oh shoot sorry! I have to go; I am so late!” You said, speed walking away from him.

Aaron couldn’t help but watch as you walked away from him. And you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was far more handsome up close.

After explaining your tardiness to Mateo, he led you to the sixth floor to officially meet your new team. The rest of them anyway.

“Mat, you told them I was joining right? I ran into Agent Hotchner, and he didn’t show any signs of recognition. And I told you I didn’t want to join a team who wasn’t ready and willing to have me.” You ranted.

“Yes I told him, you have nothing to worry about.” He lied. “You head down into the bullpen and meet the agents; I will go up and talk to Agent Hotchner.”

You nodded in agreement and made your way to Emily and Spencer.  You exchanged greetings, and Emily took you around to meet everyone else.

“Director Cruz, what can I do for you?” Hotch asked.

“I have a new recruit for you. She will be starting today.” Mateo gestured toward the window.

Aaron glanced out, finding the beautiful woman from this morning standing amongst his team. Morgan must’ve tried to charm her because she threw her head back in laughter with the most beautiful smile. Why her? Why did she have to be joining his team?

“Why didn’t I receive her file?”

“Truthfully Aaron, I didn’t have it together. She and I have worked together on some classified cases. But I have a file here with some of her info.  She specializes in child psychology which is something your team is lacking, I figured that she could work with your team on all of your child related cases, but then can occasionally consult with other teams should they need her expertise.” Mateo explained.

“Okay.”

It had been three months since then, and things had not been going well. You had gone on all but one case with the BAU since you’d started. Every single time, Aaron kept you at the local precincts, not allowing you out on any real field work – this was hindering your ability to do your job effectively. You needed to observe the unsub’s home and belongings and dumpsites etc. but he was denying you the opportunity.

The rest of the team had been nothing but welcoming, inviting you into their little family with open arms. None of them could have predicted that Hotch would ice you out the way he was.

Every time you offered a theory or statistic or any sort of information, Hotch shut you down. He would belittle you, constantly making you feel small, and he purposely called you agent instead of referring to you as doctor and well, why should today be any different.

You had been called out on a case and based on all the information the team had acquired so far, you had a pretty good working theory.

JJ, Spencer, and you had been sitting in the room the local precinct had designated as yours for the duration of the case.

“I have an idea…it’s a little out there but hear me out,” You started, your gaze shifting to JJ and Spencer, who both encouraged you to continue. “Okay, so some of the details in this case match, while others are all over the place, like the MO is essentially the same but some of the victims’ injuries show signs of hesitation where others show none, I know hotch mentioned multiple unsubs, but what if it is one unsub, with multiple personalities.”

“Like dissociative identity disorder. You know that would make a lot of sense considering people with DID tend to have highly varying alters or identities. They can range in race, gender, age which would explain why the murders have been so different, it would also explain why the comfort zone is so small.” Spencer validated you.

“See that’s what I was thinking too, they would want to stay close to home in the case that perhaps there was a switch in alter, that way they would be somewhere familiar and be able to return home…”

“That’s enough Agent!” Hotch’s voice boomed through the small room. “I have put up with this for far too long. You came in here unannounced and have continued to provide absolutely ridiculous theories that do nothing but waste our time and resources…”

“Hotch” JJ tried to calm him.

He lifted his hand to silence her before continuing, “You have continued to get in the way of my investigations again and again and I won’t have it anymore. Cruz spoke so highly of you and frankly I don’t see it. I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this agent, but perhaps you should stick to what you know.” Hotch finished.

There was no way in hell that you were going to let yourself cry in front of this asshole. You refused to let him win in this moment.

“You know what Agent Hotchner, I have done nothing but work my ass off for this team and I have provided valuable feedback and information that has led to the capture of multiple unsubs over the last few months. But if you want to sit up there on your high horse and act all delusional, go ahead. I don’t want to be a part of a team who is led by someone so pompous and misogynistic. And one last thing, if you are going to sit there and berate me then you will address me properly. It’s Doctor, not agent…I know that may be hard to remember since it’s a title you don’t hold. Goodnight.” With that you grabbed your jacket and bag and made your way outside.

You ordered an uber and made your way back to the hotel. The nerve Hotch seemed to have filled you with rage, but you wouldn’t stick around to entertain his outburst any longer, you had a call to make.

“Hello?”

“Mat, I need a flight home.” You said, the tears finally beginning to fall.

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Mateo questioned.

“It’s fine, I just have a personal emergency and I need to get home as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing, I am booking your flight now, can you be at the airport in two hours?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

With that you hung up the phone, packed your bag, ordered another uber and made your way outside. You were purposely ignoring the texts coming in from Spencer and JJ. You made sure to slide a note under Spence’s door before leaving.

“Has anyone seen y/n this morning?” Dave asked.

“She left.” Spencer confirmed, holding up the note.

“What why? Is she okay?” Emily asked, concern laced in her tone.

“I can’t blame her. You guys should have seen it, Hotch yelled at her. And I mean full on yelled. I’ve never heard him speak that way to anyone before.” JJ chimed in.

“What are you talking about? He yelled at her. About what?” Morgan questioned.

“He completely flew off the handle. She and Spence were going over a theory about the unsub and he just started yelling, telling her that she was wasting our time and resources.”

The team was in disbelief, Hotch wasn’t mean or condescending, so why was he acting this way now? How could he treat arguably the sweetest member of the team so disrespectfully?

Dave shook his head; he was pretty sure he knew exactly why Aaron was acting out this way. He just couldn’t believe that Aaron had said such harsh things to the girl. His heart broke for her knowing that someone she idolized had been so awful to her, and for all the wrong reasons.

The team had wrapped up that case fairly quickly, you had been right, and the unsub turned out to be a nineteen-year-old male who had been struggling with dissociative identity disorder. Hotch had felt uneasy knowing that he had questioned your intelligence, despite you being an excellent agent.

Upon returning to the BAU, Dave was sure to confront Aaron about his inappropriate behavior.  Telling him that he couldn’t treat you terribly just because he couldn’t wrap his brain around the feelings for you he was refusing to acknowledge. Aaron had scoffed at him and told him that he didn’t have feelings for you, but Dave knew he was lying.

You had quite a different experience since returning. The first thing you did was cry, you let yourself release all the pent-up frustration you’d been holding onto since you had started at the BAU. Then, you texted Mat, letting him know that you needed to meet with him.

He was curious and waiting for answers, but he ultimately agreed and waited to ask all his questions until you were face to face.

“So, what’s up? This meeting request was so formal.” Mat laughed.

“I know and I am sorry I have been so vague about everything, but I am here to resign.”

Mat’s smile fell from his face immediately.

“What happened? Did something happen, because I promise you I have looked into the complaints filed against Agent Morgan and Ms. Garcia and I can assure you, they just have a strange friendship.” Mateo tried to explain.

“Mat, slow down! It isn’t like that. I just don’t think it is a good fit, there’s just too many differences between how I work and how the team operates. It’s okay really.” You tried to smile to really sell your lie.

“Well, I can’t help but be disappointed, I really thought that you would be a perfect fit for this team.” Mateo trailed off.

“I know and I am so sorry. I know you had to pull a ton of strings to get me here and I don’t want it to seem like I am not grateful because I can assure you, I am!”

“I know, and it’s alright! If it’s not a good fit then it’s not a good fit.” Mateo flashed you a sad smile.

A few weeks had passed since you had left the BAU, and truly, you had been doing well! You had spent some much-needed time with your family. You had reached out to a good friend of yours and inquired about a job teaching at the local university, which you were truly looking forward to. It had also meant that you would have a free summer to spend some quality time with your kids.

Tonight, you had one of your best friends over, your kids had grown up together and so you liked to do these big “family” dinners together at least once a month, that however meant chaos in the house. Kids yelling, teenagers gossiping, dinner burning…I guess that means you’ll be ordering a pizza.

Your friend and you had been talking about your new job and the excitement you were feeling for it, a movie long forgotten playing in the background, the kids were playing some card game you didn’t recognize when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, I bet that’s the pizza!” You said, making your way to the door.

“I left the cash on the table there!” Your friend shouted.

“Hi…Oh. What the hell are you doing here?” Shock painted its way across your face. Standing at your door was not the pizza delivery guy, but Aaron Hotchner.

“I uh, I came here to talk to you. I know that I do not deserve your time, but I am truly hoping you’ll allow me a few minutes to explain myself.”

“Dude, do you need help or…oh, shit. Sorry! Did you guys need a minute?” Your friend interrupted.

“Um” your gaze shifted from Aaron to your friend. “Agent Hotchner, why don’t we go to the back. Can you keep an eye out for the pizza?” You suggested.

“Of course! You go.” She replied.

Aaron and you made your way to the backyard, in doing so he took note of all the children sitting in the living room, sprawled out across the floor and couches.

“I didn’t know you had children.” Aaron started.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Is that why you came here agent Hotchner? To see my home and profile me?” You questioned him.

“No of course not! I was making an observation. I’m sorry. Like I said, I am here to explain my behavior, none of which will excuse how I acted but I am hoping it might help you to understand some of it.” His gaze shifted around your face. “From the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I knew I was ruined. You were breathtaking, even when you plowed right into me in your rush to the director’s office. You bumped into me and God, then you looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I was a goner. But then you said something to me, and I knew I was done for. Do you remember what you said?”

“I apologized and then I told you I’d gone to some of your lectures. Hold on Agent Hotchner are you saying you were horrible to me because you had a crush on me? What are we? Seven-year-olds on the playground! That is such bullshi….” He didn’t let you finish.

“Hold on. You did mention that you had been to my lectures, but it was what you said as you walked away that had me hooked…you said, “he’s far more handsome up close” and I don’t think you meant to say it out loud, but at that moment I told myself that I was ready. I was ready to move on and I was going to ask you out later that day, but then you walked into the bullpen and Cruz said you’d be a part of the BAU, and I knew it wouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t date my subordinate and I didn’t know what to do, you had called me handsome and I…”

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean to say that out loud and this still isn’t…”

“I’m not finished. You had some sort of attraction for me even if it was just an appreciation for my looks. I already had it bad for you, and to top it all off, you came in and just had to be the sweetest, most loving person in the BAU and I couldn’t have you. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I figured the easiest thing to do would be to make you hate me, then I’d be able to shake these feelings for you, but no. You continued to be kind to me, even if I was awful to you and I couldn’t take it. My breaking point was the look on your face after I yelled at you on that last case. I felt sick with myself. I couldn’t leave things like that; I needed you to know that I don’t think those things. You are an incredible agent and an even better person and I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Aaron finished, looking down at his shoes.

You were speechless. While it felt amazing that the man you had harbored feelings for, returned your feelings. It also felt terrible that he wasn’t mature enough to just be upfront with you from the beginning. Instead, he felt the need to play some arduous game with you. It would be so easy to just throw yourself into his embrace and kiss him and call it all forgotten, but what if this is some insight into his communication skills, or lack thereof?

Your mind and heart were battling one another like an angel and devil on your shoulder. It was a back-and-forth quarrel that seemingly had no correct response, both had the same potential outcomes; you getting your heart broken, regret, potential happiness. What were you meant to do?

“I um, I don’t know what to say. You said some horrible things to me and that doesn’t just go away. Agent Hotchner, we’re adults.”

“Please call me Aaron, or at least Hotch.”

“Aaron we are adults and you acted like a child. Am I meant to just forgive and forget the way you made me feel?”

“No, I would never expect that. I do hope that one day you can forgive me, and if you give me the chance, I would truly love to make it up to you.” He explained.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questioned.

“Okay, you can make it up to me. And maybe, just maybe I will forgive you. It’s not going to be easy though.” You said.

“I wouldn’t want it to be easy.” He smiled.

“Alright well you can start tomorrow. I’d invite you to stay but this is a family dinner and with all the kids it might be a bit chaotic.” You told him.

“That’s fair.”

You could see the wheels turning in his head, he’s trying to figure out the dynamics of your little family, and maybe you could spare him a little bit of leeway.

“Her and I combined have nine kids. I have five and she has four. And before you ask, only two are biologically mine. A close friend of ours passed and I was listed as the personal guardian for her kids. That’s also how I have a teenager.” You explained. “That’s all you get for now.” You teased.

“I will take what I can get. Thank you, for giving me this chance.” Aaron smiled at you.

You smiled back and led him to the door, not missing the shit-eating grin your friend was wearing on her face. You bid him goodnight with a promise to text him to make some sort of plan. You didn’t know what would come of this, or if you’d end up together, but for now, you didn’t need to know. For now, you’d take it one day at a time.

[pathologicalreid]

Could you write a platonic Spencer X reader? Like she’s the new, youngest member on the team, he remembers how it feels like and kinda takes you under his wing.

neophyte | S.R.

next

in which dr. reid gives advice to help you cope with the requirements of your new job

who? spencer reid x fem!platonic!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: details from 1x6 "L.D.S.K.", mentions of killing an unsub, guns and general cm related violence. post prison reid.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi!! thank you! i had such a great time writing this! i love a good platonic reader fic <3. (side note i am currently working on making my way through all of my requests :-))

Your brows were furrowed in the dark, abandoned office that you darted into at the very first opportunity. Try as you might, you couldn’t forget the way your last case ended.

Some agents wore their first takedown like a badge of honor, but you had no interest in looking at this like an accomplishment.

You rubbed at your eyes, he was a killer, he had a knife to a teenager's throat, and yet, you felt bad that you had killed him. Emily had assured you that it was a clean shoot and you were right to kill him, but you didn’t care that it was a clean shoot. You cared that someone was dead, and you were the one who pulled the trigger. Shouldn’t it matter to you that by taking one life, you likely saved several others in the process?

Glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone could see you, you turned sharply into the empty office. It had been left abandoned years ago by Agent Morgan, and now you were grateful for the empty space. If you were going to cry, at least you could do it in peace.

The events kept playing in your head, the UnSub held the knife to the kid’s throat, and you asked him to let the kid go, but he knew he was going to jail anyway. The temptation of another kill was too good for him to turn down. You saw the flex of his wrist as he prepared himself to kill, and you pulled the trigger.

You struck him right between his eyes. You promptly walked the teenager to reunite with his parents before you snuck around the side of the building and hurled before returning to the rest of the team like all was well and good.

“Y/N?” A voice whispered into the office, and you braced yourself for someone to tell you that you shouldn’t be in there, you looked up and saw Reid, he had his token leather satchel over his shoulder like he was ready to leave. “Are you alright?”

Haphazardly, you wiped at the tears on your face and smiled weakly, “Yeah, I’m good.” You lied through your teeth, “Just uh…” you desperately tried to find a reason for being in the empty office, “enjoying the scenery.” You cringed inwardly, a five-year-old wouldn’t believe you, let alone a seasoned profiler.

Like you had done earlier, Spencer looked behind him before entering the office, he set his bag on the floor and slid his back down the wall, so he was sitting next to you on the floor. “So, how are you enjoying the blank walls?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I am enjoying myself immensely, thank you very much.”

“So, what’s wrong?” He asked, nudging your arm gently.

Hesitantly, you turned to face Spencer. Kind, non-judgmental Spencer who had once lent you a book on the jet because you were bored. “I killed him,” you whispered. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

You watched as realization dawned on him, “Did Emily say it was a clean shoot?” He straightened his legs out in front of him.

Nodding, you went back to staring straight ahead. “Yeah, she said I gave him ample opportunity to cede and that I performed as necessary.” You took a deep breath and fiddled with the hem of your jacket, “but I didn’t… I’ve never…” How could you explain this to Spencer without sounding like a kid?

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” he finished for you. “Even though he was a serial killer and he would’ve killed that teenager, you still killed him.”

You sighed despondently, “Profilers.”

Reid leaned back against the wall. In your peripheral vision, you could see the light from the hallway as it fed into the office. “I had the same problem after I killed someone for the first time,” he admitted to you.

Your head snapped to face him. Quite frankly, you had a hard time believing him, Spencer was a BAU veteran at this point. “You did?” You whispered.

He nodded, “Philip Dowd,” he said, making a face like the name felt foreign to him now. “He would’ve killed me, our old unit chief, and an emergency room full of hostages had I not done it, but I still couldn’t convince myself it was justified.” He shrugged, “I didn’t sleep well for weeks afterward.”

Turning to face him, you tilted your head in curiosity, “How did you figure it out? How did you manage?”

“I had someone who could give me advice,” he told you pointedly. “I put pictures of his victims up in my room, so I had something to remind me why I’m doing this,” he answered. “I won’t lie to you, it’s never going to be something enjoyable about this job. Taking someone’s life is…. Brutal, but saving lives makes it tolerable.”

Silent tears streamed down your face, “I wish he had just put the knife down. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, “Sometimes it doesn’t, but that family that you reunited today? They’ll never forget you.” He reassured you, and you remembered the tears from that mother as she hugged you and thanked you for saving her son's life.

“For the good of the many, right?” You asked bitterly.

He hummed, “If that’s how you have to look at it, yeah, but if you don’t know how you have to look at it to feel normal yet, that’s okay too.” He swept a strand of hair from his face, “The point I’m trying to make is that I had someone to help me navigate all of this, and I think you could use that too.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Like a guru?” You asked, a light smile on your face.

“I was thinking more like a mentor, but sure. I could be your BAU guru,” he said, the grin plain in his voice.

Then the moment left as quickly as it came, you still couldn’t get the way the blood drained from his body out of your mind. You wiped a tear from under your eyes, “I can do this, Reid,” you assured him.

He reached over your head to a tissue box on top of a table, handing you the box, he answered, “I know you can. Emily wouldn’t have handpicked you from the academy if you didn’t have what it takes. You’re just what the BAU needs, and if you decide to stay, you’ll be perfect here.”

Unable to help it, you scoffed, “How do you just know that?”

“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go from the BAU, but no one who reminds me so much of myself. And I’ve been here for long enough that I hope you take those words for what they’re worth,” he answered you, not even bothered by your indignation. He stood first, reaching a hand out to help you to your feet, “You have my phone number, right?”

You furrowed your brows as you stood, “uh, yeah.” Garcia had programmed them herself on your very first day.

Spencer nodded, “Good. If you ever need help processing the job, or anything else, you can call. Or text. I’m usually better with calls. Any time, okay, Y/N?”

You cocked your head at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered simply as if it was obvious.

And just like that, he grabbed his bag and turned around. Heading into the elevator, he waved as the doors shut and you watched, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

next

[maccaronimassacre]

Resident Evil bot dump #4

I was originally planning on posting these after C.ai fixed their user interaction bug but considering its almost been a whole month since the bug first appeared and they still haven't fixed it I simply caved in. On another note though, one of my Ethan bots has hit over 130k interactions which is insane! I appreciate the support and I'll try my best to keep those bots coming. Feel free to make requests for any bot ideas you have <3

STARS!Chris Redfield x Reader

Chris quickly ushers you inside the S.T.A.R.S office, shoving you inside before barricading the door with a metal cabinet. “Jesus that was close!” Chris exclaims while resting his back against the cabinet's frame to catch his breath. You can hear the licker’s claws scratch and tear at the door before it lets out a growl in frustration and stalks away. It looks like you can relax. For now anyway…

STARS!Chris Redfield x Reader

The only noises that can be heard in the Spencer Mansion are your footsteps and the occasional creaks and groans of the hardwood floors underfoot. With the serum for the snake poison in hand, you can only pray that you make it back to Chris in time to cure him. Eventually you find yourself back at the intersecting hallway where Chris’ unconscious form lies. He is sweating and breathing heavily, the bite wound on his forearm now swollen and red with irritation.

Chris Redfield x Reader

When you asked Chris for some tips on how to improve your aim you were expecting a couple of pointers or maybe a demonstration. Instead, Chris has his arms around your body with one arm on your waist and the other under your elbow, gently guiding it up with his hand. His chest is pressed up tightly against your back and you can feel his breath roll against your ear in hot steady waves. “There we go, that’s better. Now aim and fire, {{user}}”.

IT!Ethan x Reader

What is supposed to be a normal day at the office has already turned into a nightmare when your computer just so happens to stop functioning. Fortunately for you, a member of the IT department walks over to your cubicle and lets out a heavy sigh when he looks at your screen. “So have you tried turning it on and off again?” He asks with minimal enthusiasm and a slight hint of sarcasm while adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

Ethan Winters x Reader

“You got all that, babe?” Your partner Ethan asks, glancing over to you before shifting his eyes back onto the road ahead. He was just rambling about the itinerary for today and has been looking forward to spending some more time with you and Rose. He figured that a day out to an amusement park would be the perfect way to kick back and have fun. Rose seems to be quite excited too with the way she is bouncing enthusiastically in the car seat, holding her monkey plushie tightly.

Dead!Ethan Winters x Dead!Reader

What happens after we die? Some say heaven, other say it’s an endless abyss. Yet you stand here in the midst of a frozen and desolate landscape. In the distance there is a man who stands alone, quietly staring off into space with glassy red rimmed eyes in deep contemplation. His left hand looks like it’s been eroded away, almost as if he’s made out of stone. “You are part of the mutamycete.” Despite his voice being a quiet whisper, you can hear the slight tremble in his words.

Fifth Lord!Ethan Winters x Reader

Before you stands the man Mother Miranda declared to be the fifth lord of the village. He steps towards you with black raven wings flapping behind him before folding back up into his body. “Who are you, and what is your purpose here?” The man’s voice is low and holds no hint of emotion. He dons red eyes with yellow pupils that pierce straight through your soul as if he’s judging you. Waiting for you to speak.

Leon Kennedy x Officer!Reader

With Leon Kennedy joining the Raccoon City Police Department, Lieutenant Branagh figured you’d be the right officer for the job of welcoming and showing Leon around the city. And that’s how you’ve ended up here, casually patrolling the bustling streets of Raccoon with the blonde rookie in tow who currently is nose deep in a tourist pamphlet about the Arklay County. His eyes are filled with intrigue as he reads about the city’s rich history.

Dead by Daylight!Leon x Reader

A heavy fog rolls over the forest, submerging you in complete darkness. One minute you were in the middle of the woods, the next you find yourself by a large campfire that illuminates your new and unfamiliar surroundings. A variety of strangers sit by the heatless flames, bloodied and bruised yet waiting for something. Something to happen maybe? One of them looks up at you, a man with dirty blonde hair and sapphire eyes flashes you a warm grin and pats the space on the log next to him.

Resident Evil Bot Masterlist

[spookyspaghettisundae]

None the Wiser

With walls so white that fluorescent lights made them blinding, Chloe Grant soon started seeing bright spots everywhere. Ghostly echoes danced about her field of vision, around her own reflection in the bulletproof glass surface. Instead of bars, clear windows separated visitors from the inmates in their cells, with thick glass plates reaching from floor to ceiling, and tiny breathing holes that wouldn’t even permit anybody to poke as much as a finger through.

Automatic lights turned on everywhere they wandered. Stern-faced and square-jawed guards kept close watch, sporting glossy body armor, and electric stun batons hooked onto their belts. Doors here never opened to traditional keys, their magnetic locks only yielded to plastic cards with RFID chips. Electric buzzing came muted and quiet from those devices, with tiny red lights turning green, and dim touchscreen interfaces flanking the sides of every cell.

Low ceilings swallowed all echoes and suggested floors upon floors of other tracts, and the overall oppressive atmosphere made it less inviting to say anything than in a church during a sermon.

Though security here was as high as it got, this whole place felt less like a prison, and more like a strange sanitarium, transported from a dark past into an even weirder future.

On the way in, Chloe Grant had half-expected to see a real-life Hannibal Lecter standing inside one of the bright chambers, bound in a straitjacket, goading them to step closer.

Instead, Singh paced back and forth inside his cell. Dark rings underlined his haunted eyes, and every joke the thin man cracked to lighten the mood felt forced.

Grant recognized this brand of despair. Their former colleague was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“I’d love to tell you more,” said Doctor Solomon. The corners of his lips twitched with a hint of a smile, like a child who could barely contain himself. “But I believe everything we say here is recorded and gathered, and for the sake of our continued paychecks, I must keep our upcoming innovations confidential.”

The eccentric doctor and lead engineer in their company was doing his best to cheer up Rida Singh. It wasn’t working. Still, Singh’s face featured a brief flash of recognition over Solomon’s noble effort.

Ruiz scratched his five o’clock shadow and nodded. They all knew what Solomon was trying, so Ruiz offered his best attempt towards the same end.

“Can we get you anything in here? Everybody’s being sketchy about visiting times, and rules, and the likes.”

Singh shook his head and coughed.

“No. This place is only temporary anyway. Lawyer said, uh, I’m being transferred to some other facility next. Before the trial, yeah?”

Grant hedged so many unspoken questions for Singh. Why he had pulled the move he had to land himself here, what he had hoped to accomplish, and if he realized that his stunt had effectively gotten Carter killed.

It wasn’t the time nor place. She held her tongue.

She had almost expected Ruiz to pose those questions, anyway given he seemed to have been closer to Carter and Singh and a spy for… another agency? Company? Who knew? Bennett was still digging.

Ruiz was playing it cool. Playing the concerned colleague all the way.

Or maybe he wasn’t even playing at all.

The most convincing liars rarely lied. They drew their confidence from the naked truth, letting deceptions fall unnoticed through the cracks.

She had been watching him for the past days. She had noticed the shake in his hand. At Carter’s funeral, Ruiz had tried to hide the shaking. Not even smoking could do it.

And the man’s eyes had welled with tears at the funeral. His loss appeared profound and honest. Carter and Ruiz had been working closely together for over a year.

Grant’s inner monologue drowned out whatever superficial things the three men were talking about now.

Singh’s eyes wandered her way and she felt pressured to say something again. So she did.

“Whatever you do, don’t say anything without Spencer’s legion of lawyers to sand it down.”

He smirked. Scoffed.

“Man, I am really,” Singh started. Pausing, he ran a hand through his frazzled hair and sighed. “I don’t know, I’m just really disappointed in Spencer. He’s leavin’ me hanging here, man.”

Grant sympathized. With both Singh and Spencer.

The CEO needed to keep the ship running. The lights on, the bills paid, the progress made.

Meanwhile, Singh had only been doing his job, and if things had worked out, he might have been celebrated for his actions. Instead, Carter was dead, the US government’s team had killed the T-Rex and taken its remains, and Singh, their former head of IT, now sat in federal prison, awaiting a trial that could put him in a cell for life.

“Yeah,” she replied. Sighed. She hated that this was the best she could muster in response. “Wish we could do more.”

Singh cracked another feeble smile. He appreciated her own miserable attempt at giving him any shred of courage.

He continued pacing back and forth in his cell.

“Don’t worry old chap,” Doctor Solomon told his junior colleague. Despite the oppressive gloom of this brightly-lit prison, the elderly man beamed. “Chin up. Spencer’s a cold fish when you shine a light on him, but he rewards your loyalty when you least expect it. And speaking of fish, Bernie’s taken care of—I have him in my lab and he’s only being fed the best money could buy.”

Solomon tapped the window between them twice and gave Singh a reassuring nod.

Singh exhaled sharply and he smiled the first honest smile since their arrival.

“Thanks. Owe you one, Doc. Just, uh, don’t do anything funny with Bernie, okay?”

“I would never dream of it,” said Solomon. Then he tilted his head. “Unless you give me consent to experiment on him? See, his species would make him a good specimen for tests relating to the Devonian—”

“No. N. O,” Singh said, spelling out his denial and emitting a nervous chuckle.

None of them were sure when Solomon said things like that.

“In all seriousness,” Ruiz said, “I bet you, Spencer got Bennett and whoever else diggin’ on what really happened out over in Midland. You’ll be out in no time, then the first drink’s on me, amigo.”

Grant wasn’t convinced.

How much did Ruiz know? How much of it was in his hands? Could something he knew set Singh free?

She flashed Singh a smile so feeble that they may as well have been looking into a mirror, rather than through a glass window.

“Stay frosty and see you soon,” she said. A deep breath, and part of her composure returned. She winked at him. “And don’t bite too hard when you get any cake, might just be a file hidden in there.”

His smile widened, replete with warmth.

The three visitors remained quiet on their way out. Down the claustrophobic corridors, past the tiny blinking lights, and doors that only guards could open with their mag-lock keycards. Before long, the trio found themselves back out on the parking lot of the Carrington Federal Correctional Institute.

High fences topped with razor wire surrounded them. Only few other vehicles stood parked on the visitor’s lot.

The shadows of visors concealed the watchful eyes of prison guards, all observing their every move as the trio shuffled about on the parking lot.

The three stopped and stood in silence, all grappling with what to say next, before they inevitably scattered in the winds.

Uncomfortable in this environment, Solomon was first to speak and first to leave. He straightened the collar of his gray jacket. “Oh, well, don’t let any of this eat at you. I’m confident Spencer can pull some strings and get Singh released soon enough. He’ll be back to annoying you on comms before you know it. On a lighter note, I’m excited to share with you the details on our newest achievement. Not here, of course. I’ll see you two back at the office. Bring beverages, the briefing might take a while.”

The head engineer disappeared into his old blue Charger and drove off, leaving Ruiz and Grant behind.

Ruiz was smoking a cigarette, leaning against his motorcycle. Grant hadn’t even noticed him light up his cancer stick.

His eyes narrowed, studying one of the fence’s watchtowers. Like a sharpshooter, observing his mark, staring back at a guard up there. When he spoke, it almost looked like he was talking to the faraway guard, but the words were aimed at Grant.

“Why did you come here, anyway?”

Her heart started pounding like a huge drum. It wasn’t even like she felt caught—the question offended her somehow.

“Excuse me?”

Ruiz took a long drag from his cigarette. “You’re still pretty new to FP. I never figured you and Singh to have been close.”

This left her speechless. He must have known how his words would hit. But why? And why now?

He answered unspoken questions, answering for his offense unprompted. “Sorry. Just curious. Trying to get to know you better. You know what, though? I ain’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘Preciate you’ve been here—been to Carter’s funeral, now, this—good having you… havin’ you on the team.”

Ruiz’s gaze wandered from the watchtower to Grant, locking onto her eyes with a burning stare. He took another drag. His eyes glittered something strange. His model shape looked stunning in this sunlight.

She swept her hair back, stewing on his speech, looking for the right words to counter it with.

“Don’t mention it. Least I can do.” She bit her lip. Maybe the easiest way to keep tabs on him would be to… “I know you offered Singh a drink when he’s out, but how about you offer me one sometime?”

She got into her car while he stood there, staring after her, smoking.

“Careful,” he said. Every syllable billowed out like smoke. “Don’t wanna get us into hot water for fraternizing too closely outside of work.”

Ruiz nodded, as if agreeing with himself on what he had just said. He stood still where he leaned against his motorcycle, posed like the languid statue of a post-modern deity, rivaling famous underwear models in his attractive poise.

She shot back. “Hold them horses cowboy, it’s a just a drink or two.”

His lips curled into a smile. He performed a mock salute with two fingers.

She took off, pulling the car around and driving away.

Grant shot furtive glances in her rearview mirror as she left the prison’s parking lot behind. Ruiz continued staring after her as she drove away. Then he stamped out his cigarette on the Tarmac, mounted his bike, and slipped the black helmet over his head, visor flapped down.

Then, as Grant’s car trailed around the curving road, lines of tall trees swallowed Ruiz and the prison whole.

She had a lot to think about, and she had a long drive ahead of her. Visiting Singh here was quite out of the way, and he would be transferred even farther for the trial.

Things weren’t looking good for Singh, and she wondered if she could get him off the hook… if only she gathered enough evidence on Ruiz’s espionage, and the mystery redhead he worked with—that suspicious suit he had been meeting at the café in Austin.

He had met with that redhead more than once since Grant started following him around. Grant had been stalking Ruiz, always careful not to tip him off to his tail.

She used rentals, taxis, and even set up in any inconspicuous locales where she could watch the roads he frequented throughout the city.

Grant even knew where Ruiz lived now. Downtown, fifth story of an old building that looked fit for gentrification in the near future. She wondered what his place looked like inside.

Endless minutes later, her phone buzzed, piercing the mind fog. Danielle Bennett was calling.

Grant plugged in an earbud and tapped her phone to take the call.

“What’s up, Danielle?” she asked Bennett.

“Where are you? Driving?”

“Mhm. On my way back from visiting Singh in Carrington.”

“Did he—you know what, tell me later. You’ll have to step on the gas, we got another incursion to deal with. The operative C2A is about to go out any minute now.”

Grant clicked her tongue. “Where?”

Bennett’s fingers hammered away at a keyboard with incredible speed.

“Kentucky. Appalachian mountains.”

Grant sighed. “Guess my book needs to wait. Again. I’m on my way.”

Her finger hovered near the button to hang up. More words from Danielle followed, stopping her from pressing it.

“What are you… you know what? Tell me later? Uhm,” Bennett paused for a long beat. More click-clacking at her keyboard followed. “I didn’t just call about the incursion, I, uhm, I got more on… you-know-who.”

She sounded as mousy as she usually looked. Grant knew exactly who Bennett meant.

The redhead Ruiz had been holding his clandestine meetings with.

Grant kept her eyes on the road. Traffic on the highway drifted in slow motion despite her car accelerating. “You sure this is the right channel to talk about it? The walls have ears, and all that?”

Bennett gasped. A frustrated gasp. Grant immediately regretted posing that question.

“Hey, I’m no newbie here. If I don’t want to be seen or heard, then I won’t be seen or heard.”

Grant smiled, stifling a laugh. “Okay, okay. I know. Just… we gotta be careful, okay?”

They still hadn’t informed anybody yet. As far as Grant knew, nobody knew that she and Bennett knew about Ruiz’s espionage on Spencer’s boardroom meeting. Or about the redhead.

“Do you wanna hear it, or not?” Bennett asked.

“Sure thang. Hit me.”

Bennett simmered in another long pause. The furious typing at her keyboard stayed absent for several beats, for so long that Grant almost asked if everything was alright, just before Bennett started hacking away again.

“Her name is Loretta Corsino. She is in no shape or form affiliated with the American government. She’s a consultant in the private sector. Harvard, attorney, squeaky-clean record, can’t find dirt on her anywhere.”

Grant snorted. This surprised her. Another private firm, butting into FP’s business?

It made enough sense. For now. Still, some pieces of the puzzle were missing. Frustratingly so.

“Huh.”

“She works part-time in cybersecurity at a US branch of a British company named Celava Semi-Conductors.”

“Huh,” Grant said again. “So they’re IT?”

“A little bit more than that. Get a load of this,” Bennett said. “They’re kind of a pioneer in the field of high-energy physics, developing new forms of semi-conductors, shielding, and other components for use in nuclear reactors, particle accelerators, and other high-tech projects.”

Grant’s heart started racing again. Celava sounded like competition. A rival for Future Proof. This wasn’t good.

They knew. The had to know what Future Proof was dealing in.

“The plot thickens…”

“No kidding! CEO’s a guy named Malcolm Wright, a real Conan the Barbarian-looking guy in a suit,” Bennett’s typing ceased. Her syllables drawled out as she was reading something off a screen before continuing. “Celava used to be trumpeted by the British government as an example of how their national industry was ‘moving into the future’, but then Wright caused a rift between the government and his company.”

Now, Grant was intrigued. She said nothing. Bennett continued uninterrupted.

“A year ago, there was an accident at Celava’s main research facility. Two scientists died. According to official accounts, there was some kind of explosion of super-heated steam when a faulty valve blew. The families of the two dead scientists there were given generous compensation—and, curiously, made to sign an agreement that both funerals would be held immediately, with closed coffins and no viewing of the bodies.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. You thinking what I’m thinking? This also sound very cover-uppy to you?”

“Yeah.” They knew. The Anomalies, the dinosaurs from the past, the mutants from the future, and the secret operations to keep these things from the public. “Yeah, they sure as hell know.”

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. You gotta be careful, okay? No telling how deep this rabbit hole really goes. It’s a whole other can of worms if the spy’s working for someone else in the private sector.”

“I know, I—”

“I mean it. I know you know. I know you’re going to tell me that this is the kind of rabbit hole where people disappear and wind up dead, or in closed coffins with no viewing of the bodies. I know you want to tell me to be careful, too. I know.”

“Okay. Yeah, let’s just,” Grant took a deep breath. “Let’s just play it cool, keep our cool. Keep working like we’re none the wiser. I’m starting to think we need to go to Spencer about all this, sooner than later. We, uhm. Speak soon, Danielle, I’m stopping at home before hitting the HQ for airlift. I’ll be a few minutes late.”

“You… call me Dan.”

Grant smiled.

“Okay, Dan. See you soon.”

They hung up.

Half an hour later, Grant pulled into her new driveway. Gravel crunched underneath her sneakers on the short way from the garage to her front door. The fresh coat of paint looked good.

It was a nice place.

Even with all the cardboard boxes inside, cluttering the entrance foyer, and the living room, and the kitchen, and the—

The doorbell rang. It startled her. She froze, heart racing again, in the middle of packing a bag to exchange her laundry at Future Proof’s city HQ. Just as she zipped up her duffel bag, the doorbell rang a second time.

A shadow awaited her outside. Still, calm, and looming, the tiny windows obscured everything about her visitor but the shadow.

She opened the front door.

The shadow turned out to have been Ruiz. He was standing out there.

Ruiz thumbed his lip as their gazes met.

How did he know where she lived?

“Hey,” he said. Husky, smoky, and stern. “I needed to see you. Speak to you. It’s urgent.”

What? About what? How—

She almost voiced her doubts unfiltered, then found her cool, thinking back to what she had told Danielle earlier—to keep their cool. “Is this about the incursion, or about the drink?”

Ruiz smirked. His eyes glittered something strange again. Flashing with something seductive.

“No. Getting to HQ for the job needs to wait, too. I need to speak to you. Alone.”

Taken off-guard, Grant rubbed the back of her neck, and considered her options.

He gave her no space to think.

“Can I come inside? Talk in there?”

“It’s… quite a mess. I’m still moving in,” she fired back.

“I ain’t fussy,” he said. His eyes flashed again. Narrowed. Drilling into her, scanning her up and down.

Did he know? Did he know what they knew?

“Okay, sure. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Let’s chat.” She stepped aside and invited him in with a sweeping gesture.

He stepped inside, swerving past the stacks of cardboard boxes, looking for a place to talk.

Grant licked her lips.

Her gun was upstairs.

[portfolioed]

Northern Line

This story won the 2016 Winston Fletcher Fiction Prize. My sincere thanks to the committee.

I ran away but I didn’t run.

It’s not like that song me Da played about the runaway, and the guy takes care of her and keeps her safe. No fucker’s doing that for me.

I knew where the bastard kept the money. So, cool as you like, I took it and walked out, jumped on the bus to Piccadilly, bought a ticket to London and fucked off.

But I didn’t run.

*

My Da was a drunk but he was never mean. He still managed to get himself locked-up, but it was like something out of Frank Spencer.

He’d passed-out somewhere off Rusholme. When he was out a mugging took place in the same alley. He fitted the description and wore similar clothes to the mugger. The lawyer made him sound like a drunk. Which he was. But he wasn’t bad.

That was a year ago. Since then me and Carl have been in the home. It’s shit.

When he wasn’t fuckin’ drunk me Da was clever, funny. He knew things and we would talk. He told me about books to read, we listened to records together all the time and he knew about politics and stuff like that.

I did well at school, but now I’m not even going.

Me mum I never knew.

*

I listened to New Order, The Paragons and Talking Heads all the way down to London. One thing my Da gave me was decent records. I taped them and left them with Carl.

I thought London would be amazing compared to Manchester. Buckingham Palace and all that shite.

But London was a shithole too.

Victoria coach station was full of junkies and weirdoes so I got the fuck out of there.

In W H Smith I bought a Standard to find jobs and somewhere to fuckin live and an NME. I chose Belsize Park because of the Marillion song Kayleigh. I found it on the black line — Northern. That made me smile. Northern. Like me.

I read the paper on the way and circled the places near Belsize Park — there was a few. A punk got off at Camden Town. The rest of the carriage was empty.

Punks are losers my Da says.

*

At Belsize Park I call the agent from the payphone outside the tube and he gives me directions. He had a strong accent and said he is from Cyprus.

When I got there he looked at me like ‘What the fuck you doin ere’, but didn’t say shite. He was short, fat and bald with a little mustache. He showed me around the shittty bedsits and talked about Cyprus.

‘In Cyprus we don’t live like this,’ he said ‘You know your neighbours and you could leave your door open. Not like here,’ he says.

‘Why don’t you go back?’ I says.

‘Opportunity,’ he says after a bit.

‘But look. This is good. Not like Victoria or Kings Cross. This area OK.’

He showed me a room with a window overlooking a small park. ‘It’s the biggest still free — you have for the same price,’ he said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Seventeen,’ I lied.

‘I need one month advance and another month and you can move in today,’ he said.

I got him down on the price a bit. My Da says never pay first price then I paid the money. It was a fuck of a lot but I had the cash so fuck it. I was happy. I got him to give me a receipt and he gave me the keys and everything.

When we sorted everything he asks ‘Your accent? Where are you from?’

‘Manchester,’ I says. ‘I’m not going back.’

*

The room was empty, grey, depressing. I bought paint and a roller at the hardware shop on the corner and found towels, cutlery and bedsheets at the charity shop further down the hill and got a beer from the newsagents. I never had trouble getting served.

I painted the walls and then opened the window and sat on the floor and watched the sun set.

Not as cold as fucking Manchester anyway.

*

The next day I spend the morning calling the numbers in the paper and Loot to find work. A couple are agencies. I have to work out what the fuck ‘agency’ means. A few asks me to come in. I tell them I can type and can work computers. I can’t do fucking either but how fuckin hard can it be?

I put on my best Angela Rippon at the interviews. They fuckin love it, and one lot tell me I can start at some government organisation in Victoria in the morning. They didn’t ask me fuckin shite or test me or anything.

I spend the rest of the day visiting places I heard about in London. Carnaby Street is a dump, full of shite t-shirt shops. Soho is better, with some decent clothes shops and good record shops. I take the bus home when it hits me. Home. My first ever that’s mine. Home.

I celebrate by puttin up posters from the NME. There’s a good pic of Sinead O’Connor and one of Adamski, who’s been number one for ages.

Time to call Carl.

*

One time when I got the hiccups and my da said I shouldn’t worry about drinking out the other side of the glass or that shite, but I should hold my breath till I blow one off.

‘What?’ I says, and he says ‘Yeah — this actually fuckin works innnit so try. Hiccups is annoying so sort it out.’

So I did.

My Da, Carl and some others were there — the house was always full of fuckin people. Anyway. I sat there holding my breath and concentrated until I could squeeze one out.

I had my eyes closed and when I opened them my Da was there, right in front of me, and he says, ‘So you OK?’ I says, ‘I think so.’

‘So you farted then?’ he says. ‘Not very ladylike,’ and he had this fuckin smarmy look. And everyone starts fuckin laffin’ and crackin’ up.

I’m fuckin livid and I says ‘I fuckin didn’t!’ and everyone starts crackin’ up again.

I’m thinkin now that this is a fuckin trick and I’m fuckin pissed off. Right pissed off.

Then my Da says, ‘Well, you ain’t fuckin’ hiccupping any more.’

For a minute I just fuckin sat there and wondered what the fuck.

But it was true — the hiccups had gone. Once I realised, I had this moment when I just couldn’t believe it and yes — the fuckin hiccups had gone and I started crackin up too.

Carl was only little then and he was fuckin crying he was laughin so much. I’m thinking of that now, and I cry a little for my Da and because it was so fuckin funny.

Then I look around. Everyone on the bus has their Walkmans on and shite. So I squeeze one out. Nobody will think a lady done it.

*

My brother Carl is younger than me but sensible. He don’ get in fuckin trouble like I do. He’s stronger than me. He hated the home but he could survive better than me. He didn’t get shit from people all fuckin day like I got. He didn’t come under the bastard’s attention. He didn’t suffer in the same way. But he still wanted out. I’ll get him out.

I dialled the number. The bastard answered. ‘Parkview?’ it did overlook a park, but the park was too dangerous to go into.

I gave it my best newsreader. ‘Can I speak to Carl Banham please?’

There was a pause. He was thinking about the consequences of the question.

‘Who’s askin’?’ he says.

‘It’s social services. We have information about his father’s case.’ I took extra care to pronounce the ‘aitch’ properly.

‘Why don’t you ask about Ellen? You know she’s gone?’ he says.

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss that with you. We are looking into allegations Miss Banham has made about the running of Parkview,’ I paused here, nervous.

‘Can you put Carl on please?’ I says. Bullies respond to bullying my Da says. Still, my heart was racing because I knew that he knew it was me.

‘Wait a min,’ he said. I couldn’t read anything in his voice.

I waited and looked at the graffiti around the payphone. There was a smiley face and the word ‘Shoom’ Someone else had written ‘RAMPLING IS GOD’. I didn’t know Rampling. A footballer?

Someone I didn’t see left by the front door. The wait can’t have been more than two minutes.

‘‘Ello?’

‘Carl? Is that Carl Banham?’ I squeaked, the accent wobbling.

‘Ummm, yeah? Who wants to know?’ he asked.

I kept it up for a second longer. ‘Can you hold the line please, we have someone to speak to you,’ I said in my best newsreader.

‘Dad?’ said Carl.

‘Carl don’t freak out it’s me Ellie.’ I said, letting my real voice slip back. ‘Don’t say anything.’ I could hear him breathe in. ‘If you can talk, say ‘Yes Miss’ and if you can’t, say ‘I don’t think so Miss’.’

There was a pause. ‘It’s fine. Where are you?’

‘London. I’m gettin’ meself sorted out. I’m not comin’ back. You OK? Sorry about leavin’ like tha’.’

‘He went mental. He says you took money. It were fucking great,’ he said.

I smiled, then started to worry. ‘Did he hurt you?’

‘A bit, but it was worth it. Look I’m fine. OK?’

We talk for a good few minutes. Carl’s fine and everything has blown over I think. I miss him and worry about him. I tell him I took the wanker’s money and he laughs.

I ask Carl, “Who’s Rampling? Is he a footballer?’

‘Who? I dunno. Look…’ a pause. ‘I don’t think so Miss.’

‘OK. Look. I’m going to get you out, but it might take a while. I’ll call next week. Wait at the phonebox by the newsagents at the same time and we can talk then. But I’m alri’.’

He didn’t reply.

‘Love you Carl.’

‘Yes Miss.’

*

First day at work was fuckin’ amazing. The Government department is The Lord Chancellor’s Department and apparently my job is to do fuck-all.

My boss is Lorraine who is very fat and complains about everything in the office — the carpet, the windows, the computer. Everything. She says even the building has ‘sick building syndrome’ which means it makes everyone depressed. I fuckin’ laugh. How can someone get a building built that’s basically completely shite? Must have cost a fortune. How is that even possible?

Down the corridor from Lorraine is Mike who is the Union rep. He reminds me of my Da. He says I should join the Union and then I can get to strike if things get to that. I said sign me up.

Mike does literally nothing. He has terrible eyesight and the computer has a screen to make the words fuckin massive so he can see them.

When he’s not talking the Union or arguing with Lorraine he watchin’ this thermometer to see how warm it is. He says if it goes above 26 degrees then everyone’s out.

It’s difficult to see exactly what everyone is supposed to be doing. I do some ‘filing’ which means putting a load of files in date order. It’s a piece of piss but boring. Lorraine says I’m good and I’ll be doing more tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes Lorraine says the first day was to see if I could tell my arse from my elbow and now I was onto the big stuff.

She says to follow her, and she waddles like fuckin Daffy Duck to another part of the building and she opens a door. ‘What you think?’ she says. It’s a big room full of fuckin files. I mean full. Hundreds — thousands maybe.

‘You can say no,’ says Lorraine.

‘It looks ace, I says.

*

Life is strange. I had worked in Kwik Save on the weekends and the evenings but that was about it.

When Da got sent down I left school because it was too heavy. When I told Da he went fuckin mental. I was good at school. He said I was clever. I don’t feel clever.

Now I’m working in London for this fuckin government department and I don’t even fuckin know what the department fuckin does. My job is so fuckin easy a proper wally could do it in his sleep.

But it’s mine.

*

I go to work, I come home and I listen to my Walkman or wander around London. Tonight I put on Rum, Sodomy and The Lash. I remember seeing The Pogues on TV and I didn’t get it at all. Playing fuckin Irish music? Fuck that. And their singer looked like he was, what? Fuckin dead?

My Da fuckin loved them and made me listen to it over and over. Some albums you get sick of but this is bulletproof and gets better and better. He sings about drinkin’, war and rovin’, whatever the fuck that is, and it’s fuckin ace. I’ve listened to it a million times and I’m nowhere near sick of it.

Tonight I walk to Camden and there are posters of smiley faces everywhere and for Shoom. So it’s a night? Rampling is on the same poster. He’s the DJ?

*

At work there’s a canteen. I eat there and read NME or Melody Maker. I catch more about Rampling and the nights in London. They play this electronic music. I don’t get it. But people are losing their shit about these fuckin parties.

Dave comes up. He’s one of Mike’s cronies and helps him with the Union. He’s younger than most of the others here but still loads older than me. He sees me reading the NME and he’s reading over my shoulder.

‘Can I help you,’ I says.

‘Have you been then,’ he says, his eyes wide.

‘What?’

‘Shoom, Future, The Trip..’ he says.

‘No I says.’

‘Come — we’re gonna go to The Trip on Saturday.’

‘Umm. I don’t think so,’ I says.

‘If you change your mind you know where I am,’ he says.

He’s not moved. ‘What’s it like,’ I says.

‘The best fackin thing I have ever been to or ever done in my whole fackin life.’

He’s a Londoner or from Essex and speaks like Del Boy.

I ask Lorraine about him. ‘Oh he’s a sweetheart — a nice boy,’ she says.

Maybe I should go.

*

Dave picks me up at 6 on the Saturday.

From the outside my place looks fuckin’ amazing, only looks like a shithole from the inside. What the fuck he thinks about me and what I’m doing, fuck knows.

He’s with two friends — a girl and a boy. Both are friendly. Anyway, he says there’s a change of plan and we are not going to Shoom or whatever, but to a rave in a field.

I’m less than delighted and think about diving out. He sees my face and says ‘It’ll be fun. Honest.’

Off we go.

*

On the M25 we stop at service stations to get directions and make calls from payphones. I have no fucking idea where I am. We go to about three different ones to make calls when we see some other cars and Dave says, ‘They know’, pointing.

‘You know where the party is?’ shouts Dave. They say to follow.

Half an hour later we are in the middle of fuckin nowhere in a convoy of cars and things look totally shite.

Ten minutes of drivin through fields and suddenly there’s music. Or not music, just boom-boom-boom of a drum.

Suddenly there’s excitement. We park. There are cars fuckin everywhere, all parked any which way. Everyone legs it towards the music.

I don’t know what the fuck’s going. I follow.

There’s a small valley, full of loudspeakers, a stage, lights and hundreds, maybe thousands, of people, all dancing like mad.

What the fuck?

*

The music is all loud and thump-thump-thump. Everyone looks mental.

*

Dave comes back over smoking a menthol cigarette, chewing gum like mad and glass-eyed.

‘How you enjoying it?’ he says.

‘It’s fun,’ I says. It was fun.

‘So what’s your story?’

‘I ran away from my care home. I need to get my shit together. Then I can get my brother out too.’

‘Care home? How old are you?’

‘Fifteen.’

He stares at me. ‘FIFTEEN?’

He just stares, chewing. I feel small, like I’ve admitted to too much.

After a while he takes a drag on his ciggy and his eyes roll into his head. He says, ‘You are the luckiest person here. Easily the youngest too. Look around you. The world is changing and it starts here. You’ve got a headstart.’

He came and gave me a hug. He was all sweaty. He hugged me like a brother and I started to think that everything was going to be better.

I didn’t cry. I don’t cry. But I felt happy. Hopeful.

[boldlyvoid]

Breakable Heaven | Chapter Three: Emails

18+

Summary: Andy logs onto her dad's computer and steals the email of his resident genius.

Warnings: mature themes, flirting, Haley making assumptions, canon typical violence (plot points and script from season 1 episode 1)

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

The first thing she did when she got home that night was sneak into her dad's home office. Haley was in the master bedroom, on the other side of the second floor, so she wouldn’t hear the door creak as Andy pushed it open. 

Her dad wasn’t the best with technology, so his password to his computer was on a sticky note beside the screen. She types it in, waits for the desktop to load and then finds his email. 

“Search bar, search bar, ah,” she mumbles to herself while she works. “S-p-e-n there he is. spencerwreid@fbi.gov... w?” She wonders what his middle name could possibly be, but either way, she had his email now. 

She logs off, turns the monitor off and shuts the door behind herself, hoping it looked like she was never in there. She skips down the hall to Haley's room, knocking lightly before she pushes the door open, “I’m home.” 

“How was it?” She smiles, putting her book down and sitting up more. 

“Really good,” she can’t stop smiling. “The girls and I danced for hours, I’m exhausted.” 

“I’m glad, you deserve some fun with all the work you do,” she praises. “Did you need help with the zip again?” 

“Oh, yeah,” she walks over to the side of the bed and sits, letting Haley undo the clip and pull the zipper down. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” she pats her shoulder when she’s done. “Have a good sleep, honey. Oh, and your dads gone to Seattle for a case, so I don’t think he’ll be back tonight, can you lock up?” 

“I already did,” she admits with a smile, “I saw Morgan run out of Joe’s a while ago, so I figured they had something come up.” 

“Did Reid not go?” She looks disappointed for Andy. 

She shakes her head, looking as disappointed as possible, “no, I didn’t see him.” It’s not like she hasn’t lied to Haley before, it just felt weird every time she did. 

“I’m sure you’ll see him again soon,” Haley gives her a halfhearted smile. “Make sure you have some water and take a Tylenol, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

She laughs, “thanks, goodnight,” she waves before closing the bedroom door. 

Her dads house was big, paid for mostly by the FBI to get him to move back to Virginia to take this job, it was more like a mansion than a house. They had a lot more money now than when she was a kid, it made her excited for her little brother. He’d never have to worry about asking for a new pair of shoes or have to reuse the same backpack 2 years in a row. He wouldn’t be the only kid on the field trip there for free because their dad talked the principal into letting her go… because it really wouldn’t be fair for her to see all the kids go on a 3 day trip without her all because her dad didn’t have an extra $160 that month cause he was freshly out of law school and drowning in debt. 

In her room, she slips out of her dress and hangs it back on a hanger, it still smells like Spencer and his apartment, like old books and gain laundry detergent… it was very him and she loved it. 

She gets into some fresh pj’s and she takes her laptop out,  it takes forever to load the internet, but she eventually gets to her email and she’s able to send one to Spencer. 

Andy: Do you ever check your emails? 

Dr. Reid: I’m contractually obligated to, yes. How’d you get my email address? 

—

His blackberry dings in his pocket just before take-off, he knows he shouldn’t have his phone out, but he reads her messages anyway.

Andy: I logged onto my dads computer and found it. Seeing as I don’t have your phone number, I can’t just go to Quantico every time I want to talk to you. 

He smiles, of course, she would break into her dads home office to talk to him. 

“Spencer, phone off,” Hotch’s voice rips him out of it. 

He hides his phone, “yes sir, sorry.” 

“I’ve never seen you answer emails…” Derek catches on. “What is it?” 

“Nothing serious, my mom has access to a computer now so I get emails from her sometimes.” 

“It’s the middle of the night?” 

“It’s only 10 pm in Vegas,” he corrects him. 

They drop it, preparing for take-off. He buckles up, sends a simple prayer to whatever's out there and he closes his eyes as the wheels leave the tarmac. He’ll never get used to flying, especially when he knew that a large portion of aviation accidents happened in private planes, like the one they used at work. It scared him more than he’d like to admit. 

It feels like forever before the seatbelt sign turns off and he can take his phone out again, just as he’s about to, files are handed out for briefing and starting their profile. 

“Reid, you’re up,” Gideon lets him take point. 

“His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsch, stab wounds, strangulation—

“Okay, wait, wait, back up, backup,” Derek stops him before he can dig too far in the file. “He stabbed her, then strangled her to finish her off?” 

“Other way around,” Gideon corrects him. “Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” 

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe. He tried, probably found that it took too long and—

“So he stabbed her instead,” Derek understands now. Cutting Spencer off so he wouldn’t look like the only one in the room who didn’t get it. 

“And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood,” Hotch adds. 

“So the next time, our boys got a method, the belt.”

Gideon nods and turns to him, proud, “he’s learning. Perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer.” 

The words make his spine shiver. Even if they did end up catching this monster, there were still 49 just like him roaming around the united states, just waiting for their next perfect kill. 

He used to wonder what would lead a man to pick his perfect target, was it just a perfect opportunity or were they all planned. He’s grown to know the answer was much more fucked up than he hoped. A lot of the time they looked like the subject of their rage, often a mother, ex-partner, their child… 

“The two victims don’t look very similar,” Spencer points out. Flipping between the photos. “Do you think they’re more victims of opportunity?” 

“Possibly,” Hotch takes a look at the victim's again too. “He went from a brunette to blondes then back to brunette, another blonde and now a red-head.”

“What would possibly convince all those different women into the same man’s car?” Spencer asks. 

“They’re high-risk victims, he abducts them in broad daylight without a fight, he conceals them for 3 days and then he dumps them publicly,” Derek recounts, “he has to have a job where they trust him. A cab service maybe?” 

“Call Garcia, have her look into it,” Hotch directs him. “Till then, catch up on some rest.” 

Spencer takes that as his chance to email Andy back, he turns away from Hotch, he takes his phone back out and types back a quick message. 

Dr. Reid: Even if I gave you my number, I can’t text on my phone.

Every few minutes he refreshes his inbox, and the light from his phone illuminates his part of the cabin. No one else is asleep yet, they probably wouldn’t sleep, too busy thinking of possible scenarios for the case, but now they also wondered who he was talking to. 

They don’t ask again, but they keep looking at him every time he checks. Even though it was the middle of the night, and Andy had been busy all day and she had a few drinks… she probably went to bed when he didn’t answer her right away. 

So he gives in, he slides his phone into his bag and he closes his eyes with a deep sigh, and then a yawn. 

—

She’s only been up for a few minutes, but she’s already logged onto her computer to see if he messaged her back. Staring at the screen with only one eye open as she typed her response.

Andy: thats a shame, you should get one of those new blackberry’s then we can BBM

She moves her laptop to the side and throws the covers off, completely forgetting when she actually went to sleep last night, she woke up in the same position she laid down in originally… 

By the time she’s done her morning routine in the bathroom and back in her bed, Spencer’s sent her a pretty lengthy reply.

Dr. Reid: everyone’s wondering why I keep checking my email on my work blackberry every 20 minutes. Legally I’m not allowed to use BBM on this one, it’s in my contract. But I can see if I can get a new one when I’m done with this case. 

I had to go get Gideon from the college and they’re making him go back into the field today, I’m sure you know what happened… I’m not sure if he’s ready, he’s really on edge today, we have only a few hours left to find this girl, so if I don’t answer you, that’s why. 

I’ll email you when I’m on my way back if you’d like? Not sure how much contact is too much contact… so this email is probably already too much, but, it’s nice talking to you. 

It makes her smile uncontrollably, it was so incredibly nice to talk with him. Like having a best friend but better. 

Andy: you can email me as many times as you want. I genuinely really like talking to you too. I heard the president and the secret service use BBM cause it can’t be hacked, is that true? I feel like that’s a little fact you’d know. 

I really enjoyed our time yesterday, if we had more time I would’ve liked to talk a bit more but what happened instead was nice. I’d like to see you again sometime soon, but my exams start this week. I have 2 finals, a paper and 1 more lab to finish. Masters degrees are no joke… I can’t believe you have 3 Ph.D.’s… how did you not die of stress? Is your heart okay?

She hits send before she can go too far and embarrass herself. She really wanted to tell him that he could have hers. But she had to hold back. 

This was just a fun thing between two young adults, she wanted to help him experience the wonders of womanhood while also having a few pay-off moments for herself… If no one got murdered last night, she might have had one of them. 

But he’s a busy boy. He’s the BAU’s golden child, their new shiny toy, so he couldn’t always reply right away. After about 40 minutes of refreshing and googling him in the meantime, she makes her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. 

“Mornin’, hun,” Haley smiles, behind the counter mixing a bowl of ingredients. “I woke up needing waffles, do you want some?” 

“Sure,” she takes a seat at the counter. “Do you want me to do it, you shouldn’t be walking around?” 

She shrugs, “I don’t think I need to be… I’m not going to go into early labour, and if I did, it’s probably because he’s measuring a lot bigger than he should be. Who knows when I got pregnant, anyway… the last time we tried, Aaron was so horny all the time—”

“Ew,” she doesn’t want to hear more. 

“After the night you had, you’re going to say ew?” She teases, giving her a knowing smirk. 

“What do you mean?” Andy goes whiter than a sheet of paper, feeling like Spencer caved and the news had already traveled back home. 

“You smelled like sex and someones cologne, your lipstick was gone, I didn’t do the little clip up at the back of your dress when I sent you out and yet you came home with it clipped up…” Haley has clearly spent too much time with her dad, now she’s able to profile too. 

She stutters, trying to think of something to say, but there’s nothing. She slowly grows more embarrassed, the colour comes back to her cheeks, flushing a deep magenta. 

“So, who was he?” Haley gets back to cooking, pouring the batter onto the waffle iron. 

“I can’t tell you,” she whispers. “Because I know you tell my dad everything even if I asked you not to, and I really want to keep this to myself for a bit…” 

“Is it a girl?” Haley whispers. “Oh, I’m sorry. Aaron told me this might happen, it’s okay, you can come out when you’re ready and I’ll just pretend it’s new information.” 

She laughs, a little too hard, “what?” 

“Well, with you playing softball and curling… and after Peter, there weren’t any boys around but you were sneaking out, plus Jasmine smiles at you a lot when she’s here…” 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I like girls like that yet… but no, it wasn’t a girl I went home with last night.” 

It’s a weird sentence to say, she never thought it would be something brought up in her house… it was a common misconception at school, being called Andy and wearing suits more than dresses to interviews and events. She’s been hit on by female agents at the bar, she’s debated it, but when it all came down to it, it was the agent part and not the female part that made her say no. 

“Oh,” Haley’s almost disappointed. “Well, I just hope he’s nice to you and that you’re safe.” 

“If you told him it was a girl I was seeing, do you think he’d be less insane this time?” 

Haley shrugs, a puzzled look on her face, “there’s really no telling… just wait for Jack to be born and then he might not have enough time to stress over your boyfriends.” 

“Jack?” She hasn’t heard them use a name for her new brother yet. 

She nods, “we’re still debating on if we want just Jack or Jackson, but that will be his name.” 

“I love it,” she doesn’t mind either way. Jack sounded like the name of her brother, it fit perfectly. “Speaking of little baby Jack, would you be okay with me making a mural in his room?” 

“As long as you run the idea by your father or me first, sure,” she doesn’t mind. “It’s less painting for me to do.” 

“Exactly, I want to do the whole room if you’d let me, as a gift from me to you,” she poses. “When I get back from school full time, I wanted to go to IKEA and get some things and see if Jas or even Spencer and Derek could come over and help me put it all together, it would be a group effort to make sure little Jack has the best room and you don’t strain yourself.” 

“As long as I can organize the closet.” 

“Of course,” Andy laughs. “I wouldn’t ruin your nesting phase for you.” 

“You really are the perfect step daughter,” Haley hands her the first plate of home made waffles, as well as a fork, knife and the syrup. 

“I’m really excited to be a sister too, genuinely,” she makes sure Haley see’s it in her face. “I’ve wanted this just as long as you have.” 

“I’m glad,” she tries not to cry, rubbing her tummy. “I’m really glad he’ll have you.” 

—

“Did you get an address on Linder?” Hotch comes barrelling through the office. 

“It’s coming through now,” he answers, monotoned, bored, tired. He hates the sound of the fax machine but it was his duty as the youngest on the team. Some might even call him their bitch… a lot of people did actually. 

His reason for joining the team was to give Gideon an excuse to come back, to entice him with files and build a trust that made him follow Spencer into the field. He knew he was important and yet no one else really saw it. 

Before hotch can walk too far from him, he grabs his attention. “Does senior management want a field assessment of Gideon?” He asks, wondering if he had to write a part of it or not. 

Hotch stops, turns around and walks stressfully close to Spencer. In his personal space bubble, he stands tall and looks down at him, “don’t worry about it.” 

Something in him makes him want to fight back, “are you nervous about him being in charge?” 

“Aren’t you on you’re way back to Slessman’s house to help Morgan?” He shoots back with anger in his tone. 

They turn away from each other quickly, but Spencer can’t let it go. He calls to Hotch, feeling like he deserves some semblance of respect with all the work he does on the team. “Do you know why he always introduces me as Doctor Reid?” 

The same name Hotch’s daughter called him last night. 

Aaron stops dead in his tracks and turns to Spencer, sighing because he knows he’s right. “Because he knows that people see you as a kid and he wants to make sure they respect you.” 

He takes a moment to stare into his eyes, asserting his own dominance, agreeing with what he said. He smiles slightly, it’s a silent thank you that Aaron understands. 

“What’s the address?” 

He glances at the page, reading it in its entirety in a matter of seconds, “I don’t think it matters anymore, he died in a car accident 2 months ago…” 

Aaron sighs, “I’ll call Elle, you get to Derek. Double time it.” 

“Yes sir,” Spencer nods, he immediately starts packing his bag and heads for the door. There’s a Seattle officer leaving at the same time as him, “excuse me,” he stops them.

“Yeah?” The man turns to him. 

“Any chance you can drive me to Slessman’s house?” 

He nods, “that’s on my patrol, hop in.” 

He’s used to being in cars with strangers now, it’s a big part of the job. He was chauffeured around between crime scenes and police stations, he has seen the same beige bricked walls in almost every state in America and the inside of every cruiser too. 

On the ride over, he takes his blackberry back out and he reads the last email from Andy. 

“I can’t believe you have 3 Ph.D.’s… how did you not die of stress? Is your heart okay?”

If he was being honest, he’d reply that his heart was defecting… it was in another place while he was in Seattle trying to save a woman he didn’t know. 

Dr. Reid: my heart is fine, thank you for the concern. It was a lot of work, but luckily I didn’t have these kinds of distractions back then… 

But you asked me a question. Yes, I do believe we’re allowed to speak with other government officials through the blackberry messenger app, but not with civilians. So, if you somehow can get a job with the president this summer, then we can talk. 

I also wanted to say I hope I’m not taking away from your study time? If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, I actually know a fair bit about psychology. I know, that’s a big surprise to you (sarcasm if you can’t read that) but I mean it, I’d drop everything to help you study if you asked. 

Andy: correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a woman to save? My homework isn’t that important, focus on her and then me, I’d really like to hear about the case and how you figured it out later, maybe if you gave me your number we could talk on the phone instead… 

It doesn’t take much time for her to respond. It’s mere moments before he’s reading her words again. 

“Someone special you go there?” The officer asks, referring to his head buried in his phone. 

“You can say that,” he blushes. “It’s new, I really like her.” 

“I hope it all works out, kid,” he’s nice about it. He has an energy that makes Spencer feel like he can trust him. “Especially in this line of work, you need a nice lady you can go home to and fall back on… someone who doesn’t see you as weak when you’re affected by it, someone who just supports you through it.” 

He smiles at the thought, “thanks, I think I found that in her.” 

Dr. Reid: we apprehended a suspect, pretty sure he’s working with someone, we just need to find out who. The new girl on our team, Elle, actually caught him, it was really cool. 

It’s getting late here, we’re very close to figuring it all out. I’m on my way to help Derek crack the unsubs password to his computer, I think your dad was just tired of seeing me so now I’m being sent here. I’ll try and talk to you more later, hopefully, we get a hotel after the case so I can rest, and maybe call you? I miss your voice. 

702-555-0103 (in case you felt the same) 

—

She adds his number to her phone as soon as she reads his email. 

The smile on her face makes her feel like she’s 13 again and the backstreet boys were releasing a new single… she hasn’t been this giddy over a boy in years and it honestly felt so freeing. Spending time with Spencer was more rewarding than she ever imagined it would be. 

She thinks about him all day. Little things in her homework remind her of him and his list of degrees, there’s little facts she’s learning about the human brain that she’d love to pick his about. She see’s his face in her day dreams, the thought of his smile is enough to make her beam with joy. 

Even though there’s large gaps between contact and her heart yearns for him, she just can’t wait until they get to talk again. 

She goes to bed thinking about future dates with him, the things she’d like to do to him, both clean and dirty, her mind travelled through a million universes where they were happy and together and it worked out for them. 

He’s the first thought in her mind when she wakes up the next morning too, way too early, she checks her phone to see it’s 7 am on a Sunday and there’s no reason for her to be up. 

But she checks her email anyway. 

Dr. Reid: we caught the other unsub just a few hours after you sent that. We have a bunch of work left to do, but we should be flying home soon. I’m in my hotel room now, I get to sleep for 3 hours before the plane home, if you’re awake, give me a call.

He only sent that 24 minutes ago, there was a good chance he was still awake, so she dials his number and hits call. 

It rings twice and then he’s there. 

“Andy.” 

She can hear the smile on his face and her heart stops, he feels just the same way she did… which meant he might want her more than a friend too… more than a best friend even…  

Being Spencer Reid’s lover would be really nice. 

“Spence,” she uses his nickname too. “How are you?” 

“Tired,” he admits. “Exhausted, actually. I haven’t slept since Thursday night.” 

“Oh my god, Spence?” She worries for him, sitting straight up in her bed with a hand on her heart. “That’s not healthy at all, you need to get some sleep soon?” 

“But I missed you?” 

“That’s cute but after prohibiting your brain from sleeping for 36 hours, serious symptoms can arise, it’s not healthy,” the psychology student in her jumped out. 

“Talk to me until I fall asleep then?” He whispers. She can hear rustling like he’s shuffled down his bed and adjusted his head on the pillow. “Isn’t it early for you too? Shouldn’t you get more sleep?” 

“Okay, mister—

“Doctor,” he corrects her. “You know, I pissed your dad off today, well, yesterday actually, and reminded him I was a doctor…” 

“What did you do?” She can’t help but wonder. 

“He was treating me like a kid, thinking I didn’t know what was going on with Gideon and Strauss… It annoyed me so I snapped back and asked him why Gideon always introduces me as Doctor Reid.” 

“And why does he?” Andy ponders. 

“Because people see me as a kid and I deserve respect,” he states it very clearly, he’s stern and affirming, it’s worthy of respect. 

“You’re hot when you stand up for yourself,” she praises him. 

“Don’t turn me on, I need to sleep, remember?” 

It makes her laugh, “I know, I know… it’s too bad we can’t have a sleepover.”

“I know,” he agrees, “you’re very cuddly and soft. And you smell good.” 

“So do you,” she can’t stop smiling. Flirting with him like this, miles and miles away from one another, but still affecting the other's heart like they were beating side by side. 

He hums, “you’re right…” 

“About?” 

“36 hours…” he yawns, “‘m sleepy.” 

She sighs, relaxing into her bed with her phone pressed to her ear, “go to sleep, Spence, I’ll talk to you when you wake up.” 

“Okay, angel,” he whispers, and then he’s out. 

His breathing changes, it almost sounds like he’s snoring, but she can’t bring herself to hang up. She just listens, stuck in the moment… he really called her angel, as if being with him wasn’t heaven enough. 

Permanent tag list 

@doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @measure-in-pain @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @one-sweet-gubler @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @strawberryspence @thatsonezesty13 @lonewolf471 @a-mended-pact @ssa-uglywhore27 @hotchandspencearedilfs @venomsvl 

@fightingdragonswithreid @mortallythoughtfulgurl @allybatch @crypticcorvidinacottage @reidslibrarybook @mrsobrien888 @malindacath @simplyparker @gspenc @spenciesprincess @starrylang 

@1mechanicalalligator

@hotched @mrs-dr-reid @wander-lustbabe @scargarcia-magshotchner @reidselle @probablycryingg @stillsleepynat @ncsls0515 

@elhotchner 

[fortheloveofwonderland]

90 Days | S.R (Part 2/12)

Not my gif

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer finds himself in hot water with Emily when his drinking is brought to light. You’re left reeling after your encounter with him.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with happy ending, smut in later chapter

Content Warnings - usual CM case related stuff, concerned JJ and Emily, brief mentions of Maeve, mentions of drinking and dilaudid, introduction of OC - your best friend Callie, vague mentions of readers mom walking out on her, swearing

Word Count - 5.4K

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Join the Taglist for this Series

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

Chapter Two

You sighed heavily once the door was firmly closed behind you feeling somewhat foolish.

You’d heard the lines. You’d heard all the lines.

It’s not you, it’s me.

You deserve better.

I’m not in the right headspace.

I need time.

And now you could add I’m just not that kind of man, to the list.

It was fine, you weren’t a stranger to rejection. It was the lies that bothered you. If Spencer wasn’t into it, which he clearly wasn’t, you wished he was man enough to tell you straight.

He hadn’t even asked for your number so that was it, you would surely never see him again.

And you wished that didn’t upset you to think.

You weren’t looking for someone, you didn’t need anyone. But if that were the case why was your whole body aching for Spencer, a man you just met?

You were happy alone, for the most part anyway. It was at least easier being alone. But he’d reignited something inside you that you were sure had long ago burnt out.

It wasn’t just that he was beautiful. He was sweet and even in the face of his darkness he managed to make you laugh. He had kind eyes. He was awkward, a little dorky and definitely more than a little broken but you’d felt drawn to him.

And that kiss. My god, that kiss. It felt like the stars and planets aligned in that kiss.

But of course, he hadn’t felt it. And that shouldn’t bother you as much as it did.

He was just a guy you tried to tell yourself as you made your way through to the bedroom. You kicked off your shoes without bothering to turn on the light.

You hoped at least you’d helped. Spencer was clearly struggling more than he’d even admitted and you hoped listening and allowing him to tell his story helped even in the slightest.

You took off your coat and tossed it on the floor and stripped off your jeans which joined them. You wondered if he’d tell his fed friends about the woman that couldn’t keep her hands to herself. The woman he’d poured his heart out too and she’d then taken it too far.

With a sigh your blouse joined the rest of the clothes and you slipped under the cool duvet. You stared at the ceiling in the dark.

You wouldn’t sleep, you rarely did. Aside from a few hours here and there when you passed out from exhaustion on the couch you hardly ever got to sleep. Not anymore.

Maybe the reason you wanted Spencer to spill his heart to you was partly selfish. When you were focused on someone else’s demons you weren't thinking about your own.

It worked. Listening to Spencer recount every horrible detail that had happened to him and staring into his beautiful eyes, your mind hadn’t once thought of anything other than the incredible man in front you.

His story had been harrowing to say the least and it did put your own issues into perspective. But despite the subject matter you had loved listening to Spencer talk.

He spoke with conviction which you assumed came with the territory of working for the FBI. He somehow managed to tell his story as though it had happened to someone else and he was simply recounting their memories.

He had an awkward air about him nonetheless. You’d seen it in the way he played with his watch or rubbed his eyes or drummed his fingers on the table as though he just couldn’t sit still. It had been a stark contrast from seeing him so motionless at the bar earlier in the night.

When he spoke, he spoke only to you, as if you were the only two people in the world. You could tell that although the words were new to him, ones he’d never dared fully speak out loud, his story was planned and calculated as though he’d run it over in his head thousands of times.

You supposed he probably had.

You could still feel him on your lips and you ran your fingers over them in absent mind. You could feel his body pressed up against yours, the way he held you so close as you kissed.

Which begged the question, where had it gone wrong? Had you been completely delusional to think that he’d been enjoying it as much as you had?

You tried to shake these thoughts off. It didn’t matter anyway. It was done and he was gone and once again you were alone.

But why for the first time, did being alone feel so lonely?

***

Spencer stifled a yawn as he made his way out the elevator and into the BAU offices the next morning. He’d had a long shower when he’d gotten home last night, mostly to try and scrub the whiskey out of his pores.

He’d slept a little but it had been strained, like usual. He hadn’t had a good night's sleep since before prison.

His hair was a mess, more so than usual as he just didn’t have the energy to try and tame it and he had at least a week's worth of stubble growth on his face.

His clothes weren’t neatly pressed as they once had been. Things such as pressing his clothes and doing his hair seemed so trivial to him nowadays. His clothes were at least clean he supposed.

He tugged at his burgundy cardigan he wore over his shirt and tie as he made his way to his desk and set his satchel down on the floor. As he slipped into his chair he stifled another yawn.

“Where the hell were you?” The voice was loud and frustrated and Spencer knew it was directed at him.

He looked up to see Jennifer Jareau storming towards him.

He never did get around to returning her calls.

“Good morning to you too Jennifer.” He replied.

“I called you last night! Over and over again. Where were you?” She ignored his words.

“I was at home.” He shrugged.

“Don’t lie to me Spencer.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I went to your apartment after my fifth call went unanswered. Where were you?” Her tone softened a little. “I was so worried about you.”

“I’m not a baby JJ.” He muttered. “You don’t need to worry about me all the time.”

“Well I do. I can’t help it. Where were you?” She asked again.

Spencer sighed.

“I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head.”

JJ stepped a little closer to him.

“A walk? Right through a brewery?” She fished in her pocket and subtly handed him a piece of gum.

Spencer took it sheepishly and popped it in his mouth.

“I needed to clear my head.” He repeated, feeling guilty for getting caught out.

“You should have called.” JJ chewed her lip looking at her friend. Had things really gotten so bad that he had turned to drink? This wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t her old friend. She was suddenly overcome with worry for him.

“I wanted to be alone.” It was true, he had wanted to be alone. You had just kind of happened.

JJ could tell her was holding something back. She was a profiler and she’d known Reid for long enough to know that wasn’t the whole story.

“You’re keeping something from me.” She stated.

Spencer knew lying to her was futile. But he also didn’t want to tell her the truth.

He pushed himself up from the chair and stepped closer to her and when he spoke his words were barely above a whisper.

“JJ, you are my best friend and I love you. But I don’t have to tell you every facet of my life.”

“Spencer.” JJ looked at him sadly.

“I’m ok. Everything is ok. You don’t need to be worried about me, I promise.”

Before JJ could reply, Prentiss stepped out of her office and her voice carried throughout the bullpen.

“We’ve got a case.” Was all she said before she headed to the board room. It was unspoken that they would all follow.

Spencer gave JJ what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he headed past her to the stairs.

JJ cared, he knew that. She worried about him and he understood why. But he wasn’t that kid he had been when he first joined the bureau, despite the fact that’s how everyone still saw him.

Sometimes he wished they didn’t care. At least not in such a way that made him feel so smothered all the time.

You had seemed to care. You’d seemed to care in a way an old friend would. Enough to listen but not so much that it became stifling.

He shook his head as he entered the board room, hoping to shake you from his mind entirely.

***

“And I don't even care to shake these zipper blues,

And we don't know just where our bones will rest.

To dust I guess forgotten and absorbed

Into the earth below.”

The music filled the apartment, floating down to your ears as you drummed along with your fingers on the table. You were a sucker for nineties rock.

You hummed along as you held the pencil in your hand, sketching on the paper beneath. You hadn’t had a plan when you’d started drawing but a familiar pair of eyes were definitely starting to form on the page.

As a freelance writer for various publications across DC, you had a lot of free time on your hands. You’d sent in drafts of a few articles you’d been working on to their respective editors and probably wouldn’t hear anything back until tomorrow.

And when you had free time, you drew.

Sometimes you decided ahead of time what you wanted to draw and sometimes like today you drew off the cuff. As you started sketching in messy hair, you knew what your brain and your hand had come up with today.

You put the pencil down and stared at the half finished sketch of Spencer. You were a pretty good artist but you couldn’t convey that face. You couldn’t do it justice.

You pushed yourself out of the chair as your phone chimed with an incoming message. As usual your chest clenched at the sound.

Your hand was a little shaky as you reached for the device but you allowed yourself to breathe when you saw it was only Callie, your best friend.

📲 Callie Jones: Coffee at Paddy’s, 2pm? X

You looked at the time, it was a little before one. You typed a reply quickly agreeing to meet your friend before you headed to the bathroom.

Once inside with the door closed you turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat the room. You didn’t undress until the steam had coated the room, obscuring the mirror.

You stripped off your sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt before stepping in and standing under the heavy flow. The water caressed your body the way only a shower could. You felt your shoulders relax and the weight lifted ever so slightly.

You closed your eyes as you lathered your hair with shampoo. Spencer’s face greeted you, his large eyes and lop-sided smile. You sighed to yourself, how long was this going to keep happening for?

Men had gotten stuck in your head before, of course they had, but not like this, not after one meeting. And not after getting shot down the way you had last night.

You ran over the details of his story in your head as you showered. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had gone through in prison. He told you he had passed the time counting down hours and minutes and seconds he was in there, but surely that could only pass so much time.

You wondered what he did with the rest of his time. When he’d paid for his drinks you saw three books in his bag. How much did he read in prison? What did he read? Did he enjoy the books or were they just a device to take his mind off of what was going on around him?

You thought about what he’d told you of the beatings he’d received. He hadn’t gone into too much detail on that matter and he didn’t mention any stretches in the infirmary so you hoped he didn’t suffer too much. But you knew it must have been hell.

You wondered how his stint in prison had changed him as a person. You would have liked the chance to get to know him better, the Spencer he was now and maybe over time you would have learnt more about the Spencer he was before.

The fact that he was still standing, working and going out said a lot about him as a person. If you were in his shoes you didn’t think you would ever be able to function properly again. He was braver and stronger than he gave himself credit for.

He’d mentioned some of his team during the course of his story whether he realised it or not. You remembered the name Luke, who had come to his aid in Mexico. Emily, who you pieced together was probably his boss. And you remembered JJ being mentioned frequently, who you had thought was his girlfriend at first but the more Spencer spoke of her, the less you got that impression.

He spoke of his team members with fondness but you got the impression he wished they wouldn’t worry so much about him. He’d mentioned he was the youngest on his team so it made sense why they would worry so much, but you also understood why the over concern could get grating.

The big thing you took from it was how much he loved his job. He was clearly struggling getting back into the line of fire and you couldn’t imagine what kind of triggers he faced on a daily basis. But his passion for his job shone through all that. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up a little when he mentioned the BAU and when he’d told you he was a profiler he practically glowed. You got the feeling that maybe work was all he had.

You finished showering and turned off the water. You stepped out the tub and grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapping it tightly around your body.

It had been one night. Why was he playing on your mind this way? For years there had only been one man that occupied your brain but after one chance meeting and a few hours of conversation, Spencer had completely taken over your mind.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe you needed something else to focus on. You rolled your eyes at this thought. A guy who clearly isn’t interested in you Y/N, yeah a great focus of your energy.

***

The case had taken them to Boston on the hunt for a serial killer with a penchant for college aged blondes. Their early profile put their unsub in his late teens to early twenties, possibly killing his victims as substitutes for his real rage; most likely an ex-girlfriend.

Melissa Tanner, Jodie Laine and Holly Willis were all students of Northeastern University, between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Garcia couldn’t find a connection between the girls, Melissa was a theatre major from North Carolina, Jodie a chemistry major from Maine and Holly majored in sociology and was a Boston local.

All three girls were found dead on campus with several stab wounds to the chest and they had all been sexually assaulted. Melissa was found in her dorm room by her roommate. Jodie was found in the courtyard by a fellow student who they had already interviewed and Holly was found outside the campus coffee house she worked in after she had closed up for the night.

They had no leads to begin with. No DNA or prints were found at any of the crime scenes and no one had seen anything suspicious.

There were no signs of forced entry at Melissa’s dorm room so they pieced together that she probably knew him and that he wouldn’t look out of place on a college campus.

It had been a long day of interviews and inspecting crime scenes so they were all relieved when Prentiss called it a day and dismissed everyone for the night.

“Reid, a word before you go.” She called the youngest agent on her team as everyone was getting ready to leave the room the Boston PD had allocated for their time there.

He swallowed and hung back without a word while the other agents left the room. Rossi, the last out, closed the door behind him.

Prentiss sighed in a way that told him this wasn’t going to be a light and breezy conversation.

“Reid I know you’re going through a lot.” She began to which Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like in there.”

“No, you can’t.” He replied rather harshly. “What is this about Emily?”

She stepped a little closer to him.

“I’ve had people expressing concerns about you today.”

“Who?” He frowned. “JJ?”

Prentiss nodded.

“Among others, Delaney included.”

Delaney was the lead detective from Boston PD on the case.

“Why is he concerned for me?”

“The same reason I am.” She rolled her lip between her teeth. “Reid, I don’t know how to put this lightly but...you stink of booze.”

Shit.

He had come to his government job smelling of whiskey from the previous night. He’d been caught out by his boss and members of Boston law enforcement.

Shit.

“I..well I…” Spencer Reid wasn’t often lost for words and if he ever found himself struggling for something to say, the genius would recite facts and statistics based on the topic of conversation.

But he didn’t think it would help the situation if he told Prentiss that twenty five point eight percent of Americans were binge drinkers or that seven point nine percent were classed as alcoholics.

He didn’t think telling her that four hundred and fourteen thousand American’s between the ages of twelve and seventeen suffered from alcohol dependency or that an estimated ninety five thousand Americans died from alcohol related causes annually which made it the third leading preventable cause of death in the US.

None of these facts and figures were going to make this situation any less uncomfortable or awkward. No amount of statistics would make this go away.

“Reid, you know how bad this is, don’t you?” Prentiss’ facial expression was soft and stern all in one.

She was conflicted. Spencer was her friend but she was also his boss. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt because she knew what he’d been through. But even still, they both knew this was bad.

“I had my last drink seven hours, ten minutes and forty six seconds before I reported for work.” He spoke. “I showered. I slept. I had three cups of coffee before I left my apartment and another one on the jet. If I didn’t think I was sober I wouldn’t have come into work. If I didn’t think I could do my job, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Nevertheless Spence,” she sounded torn. “I can’t let you work this case, not now Delaney’s spoken up. I could smell you on the jet but I let it slide because I know you and I know you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t fit to be. But now someone in an outside law enforcement agency has brought it up, I can’t let you carry on with the case.”

“I’m fine Emily.”

“No Spencer you’re not. And you haven’t been for a long time and that’s ok after what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine!” He raised his voice. “I’ve dealt with what happened to me. I saw the department therapist you assigned me to. I took time off. I am fine.”

“Then tell me this.” She sounded stern again. “Before last night, when was the last time you had a drink?”

Four years, seven months, two weeks and four days.

Spencer had never been a big drinker. He used to have the occasional whiskey or glass of wine when the team gathered but that was usually his lot.

But after his addiction to dilaudid some years ago he swore off any kind of narcotic. Alcohol included.

Until that day four years, seven months, two weeks and four days ago he’d watched Maeve, the only woman he’d ever loved, shot to death in front of his own eyes.

That night he’d drank. He’d drank to excess. And in the morning he’d promised himself never again and went straight to a NA meeting.

“I don’t know.” He decided to say instead.

Prentiss raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes you do.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I am your superior and I’m asking you a question.”

“Four years, seven months, two weeks and four days.” He spoke so quickly it almost sounded like one long word.

“Maeve.” Prentiss did the quick maths in her head and figured it out.

Spencer’s jaw clenched hearing her name out loud.

“Why does that even matter?”

“Because Spencer,” she stepped a little closer, softening her expression. “You haven’t drank since the night she died. A horrible, horrible night in your life. And then you drank last night. That tells me you are far from being fine.”

“Is this a therapy session?” He folded his arms in annoyance.

“No I just think-“

“Well don’t.” Spencer cut her off. “I am fine. I don’t need you or the rest of the team to worry about me. There are fourteen thousand two hundred and two students currently enrolled at Northeastern college, with fifty two percent of them being female. The time between his first two kills was seven days. The time between his next two was four days, meaning we could have another victim by morning. He hasn’t shown any signs of devolving, he’s only getting more confident. I think that is a little more pressing than my so-called problems.”

Prentiss exhaled thinking over Spencer’s words. She knew he was right, they needed all hands on deck on the case. But she couldn’t let this slide.

She stepped very close to Spencer now, which made him feel uncomfortable. When she spoke her voice was a whisper.

“I want to be very clear.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “I don’t want to see you outside of the hotel until this case is over. You are not working on this case.”

Her words said one thing, but the look in her eyes said another. And Spencer had known her long enough to know which one to pay attention to.

“Ok.” He nodded. “Got it.”

Prentiss nodded too and stepped back. She turned and grabbed a handful of files off the table.

She turned back and handed them to Spencer.

“Make sure they get where they need to go.”

They exchanged another knowing look.

Spencer took the files and stuffed them in his messenger bag. He turned and headed to the door.

As he reached it, Prentiss spoke again.

“And Spencer.”

He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

He gave her a nod of understanding before leaving the room and heading straight out of the precinct, not making eye contact with anyone on his way.

He should feel ashamed for getting caught. He should feel embarrassed that Delaney had noticed the alcohol on his breath. He should feel bad that Emily had had to call him out like this.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t feel any of those things.

Once again, Spencer just felt numb.

***

You hurried down the street in the direction of Paddy’s, panting a little as you went.

You were already fifteen minutes late, not that that was much of a surprise.

You rounded the corner, narrowly avoiding crashing straight into a man on a cell phone. You panted an apology without stopping.

You reached Paddy’s, throwing the door open and spotting Callie straight away at the table in the corner.

“Sorry, sorry I was…I’m late, I’m just late.” you laughed knowing you didn’t have an excuse for being late.

Callie laughed too, she was used to your scatterbrained nature and you being late was nothing new.

“I ordered you a coffee.” Callie told you instead of making fun of your time keeping.

“My angel.” you blew her a kiss which Callie jokingly grabbed mid air and put in her pocket making both of you laugh again.

You had met Callie Jones when you were a couple of scrawny, geeky pre-teens. Callie was the ying to your yang; the salt to your pepper. You were best friends, sisters, soul mates.

Callie got you in a way no one had before. As you’d grown up and Callie had become the beautiful, popular cheerleader while you were the artsy bookworm, Callie never once turned her back on you.

When you were the victim of the other kids teasing and taunting, Callie had been there. Callie had seen you at your worst and vice versa. You brought out the best in each other, you knew each other’s darkest secrets.

“It’s the least I could do after bailing on you last night.” Callie gave you a sympathetic smile as she tucked her poker straight blonde hair behind her ear.

To say you two friends were polar opposites would be an understatement at best. You came from two different worlds.

Callie was a trust fund kid whilst your dad had been working class, working sometimes as many as four jobs at once just to make ends meet after your mother had left when you were barely two years old.

Callie, being primed to take over her fathers business was rarely seen out of a well tailored suit whereas you were more a jeans and sneakers and oversized sweatshirt kind of girl.

But your differences never played a part in your friendship. You loved each as though you were sisters and money or status would never get in the way of that.

“Let me guess,” you started as your coffee was brought over. “Eric?”

Callie smiled a little shyly as she looked down at the huge diamond on her finger.

“Sorry.” She repeated. “He came home from his business trip a day early to surprise me.”

Callie and Eric had been together nearly ten years now and engaged for three. Their wedding was in three months and you were the maid of honour.

“Glad someone got laid last night.” you sighed as you spoke, not meaning to sound so pathetic.

Callie raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you.

“What does that mean? Did you meet someone?” Her tone was surprised but not in a nasty way.

You just weren’t one for opening yourself up to men. You'd rather be alone and after what you had been through, Callie understood why.

“Eh.” you shrugged, sipping your coffee. “Kind of. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“What’s weird is we’ve been sitting here nearly two minutes and you haven’t told me all the details of this mystery man. Spill bitch!”

You laughed.

“There really isn’t anything to tell.” you knew you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily so you continued. “His name is Spencer and he’s a profiler for the FBI.”

“Colour me impressed.” Callie grinned around her mug of chai tea. “Continue.”

“He was cute. Tall, skinny, long messy hair. Kind of awkward.”

“Just your type.”

“Painfully true.” you laughed in agreement. “He was in a bad place. Like dark as shit.” you didn’t want to go into specifics. You told Callie everything but this wasn’t your story to tell. “He spent an hour or so telling me this story, it was harrowing Cal. But he seemed like he really needed to get out of his system. Then he walked me home and I invited him up for a night cap.”

“AKA sex.” Callie saw right through her.

You rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t just about that. I don’t know, we connected. I just wasn’t ready to stop spending time with him.” you shrugged sadly. “Anyway, we were in the elevator and I couldn’t stop thinking how freaking gorgeous he looked so I just kissed him. I don’t know what came over me because he didn’t show any signs of actually being interested in me but I couldn’t stop myself. And he kissed me back.”

“But you didn’t get laid? Oh god please don’t tell me you just spent all night talking.” Callie made it sound as though talking were the worst thing in the world.

“We didn’t even get that far.” you sighed. “I went to let us in my apartment and he just changed, like a switch had been flipped. Said he wasn’t this kind of guy and that sex was a big deal to him. Clearly he wasn’t interested; he just didn’t want to say as much.” you wrapped your hands around your coffee mug tightly as though for comfort.

“Or, have you considered the fact that he really isn’t that kind of guy. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. He kissed you so he was obviously interested.”

“I think I just caught him off guard. He didn’t even ask for my number.”

“You like him.” Callie stated in a matter of fact way.

“No I don’t.” you scoffed like the idea was completely ludicrous.

“Oh ok.” Callie rolled her eyes. “Are you forgetting that I’ve known you for like a million years and that I know you inside out?”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him. I’ve got no way of contacting him so I’ll probably never see him again.”

Suddenly Callie was reaching in her purse for her phone.

“Did you get his last name?”

“Oh no.” you knew what she was doing. “You are not googling him.”

“Last name please.” She insisted.

You sighed knowing resistance was futile.

“Reid. Spencer Reid.”

“Ok. Spencer Reid FBI.” She typed away on her phone. “Ohh he is so your type.”

“There’s a photo?” You blushed.

Callie nodded and turned the phone to show you.

You felt butterflies stirring in your stomach as his face looked back at you.

Callie looked back at the phone and clicked on the top article.

“FBI Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid,” she read out loud. “Doctor.” She gave you a look and you just blushed. “Born in nineteen eighty one so that makes him...thirty seven. Holy shit he has an IQ of one hundred eighty seven.”

“What?” you almost choked on her coffee. “No wonder he wasn’t interested in me, he probably thought I was a complete idiot.”

“Oh shush.” Callie scalded you. “It says the young genius saved an eleven year old girl from near death by talking an “unsub” into giving himself up.” Callie surmised the article. “Doctor Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of Quantico, Virginia used his extensive profiling skills to talk a serial child killer Malcolm Boyd into handing over his gun and being taken into custody whilst having a point thirty eight revolver pointed directly at him.” She read this part verbatim. “Jesus Christ Y/N, I remember reading about that psycho. He killed like ten kids or something. This Spencer guy is kinda amazing.”

You blushed again.

“When was that article from?”

Callie scrolled back to the top of the article.

“November twenty sixteen.”

Before he went to prison and his life changed.

“I can see why you like him. Smart, cute, impressive job.”

“I don’t like him.” you groaned. “Can we stop this now?” you reached across the table and removed Callie’s phone from her hand. “How’s wedding planning going?”

“Oh you know, same old. I suggest something, Eric hates it. We do it anyway.” She chuckled. “Oh that reminds me, bridesmaid dress shopping next week.”

Ah. A day you had been dreading since Callie asked you to be her maid of honour three years ago.

“Yippee.” you couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm.

“It’ll be fun.” Callie pleaded. “I promise we will find something you’re comfortable in.”

“Thanks Cal.”

“Anything for you.” Callie grinned.

You chatted away for a few hours after that, the way only old friends could.

And your mind only flicked to Spencer a couple of dozen times.

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

Taglist -

Series Taglist -

@eevee0722 @drspencerreid80

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @spencers-dria @sexy-dumpster-fire

SR x reader -

@frickin-bats @dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @dontcallmekittens

@kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc

@rainsong01 @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @pastelbabygirl19 @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @smurphyse

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Birthday Bash Confession

I'm which Spencer sets up a huge late birthday party for Y/N and accidentally confesses his feelings

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: pining, Fluff, jealousy, Spencer being all panicky, kissing

Garcia, Morgan, JJ, Hotch, Emily, and Rossi all stood in a line as Spencer paced in front of them in the round table room after they had just gotten home from a case. "Okay, so, Garcia is in charge of the smoke machines, music and programmed lights, JJ is in charge of the decorations, Morgan and Hotch for the food, and Rossi for the drinks. Specifically the alcohol. And Emily for the guests."

Everyone nodded, not saying anything about how crazy Spencer had been since he started planning this party. "And uh... what are you in charge of, Spence?" JJ asked, tapping her foot on the floor.

"I'm in charge of distracting Y/N until the party. So, none of you can contact her tomorrow at all. Am I clear?"

"Hey, guys." Everyone turned around at the sound of Y/N's voice. "What are we talking about?" She asked, putting her phone in her pocket.

Spencer quickly walked over to her. "Oh, Y'know just things." He shrugged.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and smiled. "Huh. Suspicious." She shook her head. "Anyways, I just wanted to come in here and tell you all goodnight and I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled.

"No you won't!" Garcia blurted. Y/N nodded with a confused look. "We're not gonna see you at all tomorrow. Or talk to you."

Spencer sighed shook his head. Y/N looked a little hurt but shrugged. "Okay... well I'll see you guys later then." She nodded, turning and walking out of the room.

"Hey, Y/N wait!" Spencer called, rushing after her.

She turned back to him outside of the room. "Yeah, Spence?"

"Do you... do you wanna hang out with me tomorrow?" Spencer asked quietly.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. "Uh sure! And do what?" She asked, pushing hair behind her ears. Spencer hadn't thought about that part of the plan.

"Uh... m-movies! The movies are showing something I think you'd like." He lied. Y/N nodded.

"Really? Which movie?" She asked, actually interested now. Spencer hummed, pretending not to hear the question. Y/N laughed. "Which movie, silly?"

"Um Pirates of The Caribbean." He said quietly. He didn't actually know. He didn't go to the movies regularly. Usually only went to film festivals in the park.

"Oh! I love that movie!" Y/N clapped. "Okay, I really have to go now but text me when your on your way tomorrow." She quickly kissed him on the cheek, forgetting that he hates germs and rushed away towards the elevator.

Spencer blushed and sighed, thinking of how the hell he was gonna find a movie theater playing Pirates of The Caribbean.

○○○○○○○○

Spencer found a movie theater!

The only problem was that it was thirty minutes out of town. He texted the rest of the team to let the, know to start setting up at his apartment when he left.

He made it all the way to Y/N's place to pick her up. She excitedly left the house with him and drove to the movies.

She asked him why he chose a theater thirty minutes out of the way when there was one ten minutes from her house. He just told her he didn't realize and she said nothing else.

At the movies, Spencer kept checking his phone which Y/N thought strange because Spencer was not a technology guy. He barley paid any attention to the movie and Y/N wondered why. Was he texting someone? Some girl? Or guy?

This changed her mood significantly and Spencer would've noticed except he was to busy checking with Garcia for updates. He wanted this party to be perfect for Y/N.

When the movie was over, Y/N fakely smiled at Spencer before moving out of the isle and walking towards the exit.

When they got in the car, she was quiet. Spencer noticed and was a bit confused. Did he do something to upset her?

"D- uh... do you wanna uh come back to my place? For dinner?" Spencer stuttered out.

Y/N sighed. "I'm tired and..." She trailed off.

"You haven't eaten anything since I picked you up. Please?" Spencer asked once again.

Y/N nodded and smiled, closing her eyes. "Y- sure. Sounds good."

○○○○○

Spencer's heart hammered I his chest as the pair walked up the stairs. He had texted the team and told them that he was on his way. "So, what are we gonna eat, Spence?" Y/N asked, walking up behind his as he nervously searched for his keys in his pockets.

"Uh... I don't exactly know." He said, finally finding his keys and opening the door. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and moved in behind him. He immediately closed the door when she walked inside so they both stood in pitch black darkness.

"Spencer, turn on the light." She laughed. "I can't see."

Spencer took a few steps away from her and the lights clicked on. Y/N jumped in surprise and gasped when everyone from the bau and loads of her friends stood in front of her.

"Surprise!" They all shouted.

Y/N's smile was bigger than ever as she looked up at Spencer. "Y-you did this!?" She asked.

Spencer blushed and nodded. Y/N bit her lip and turned to everyone not really knowing what to say. "Thank you guys! But my birthdaywas last month!"

Garcia stepped forward in her most festive outfit and smiled at Y/N. "We are here to wish you a happy late birthday! Let's get this party started!" Just then, the music started playing. People dispersed and started talking and dancing.

Y/N turned to Spencer again. She practically jumped into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. "You... I can't believe you didn't give it away!" She said squeezing him tighter.

Spencer dug his face into her neck, taking in her scent. "It was really hard. Believe me." He spoke honestly. Y/N pulled away, leaving her hands on his shoulders. "Happy belated birthday, Y/N. Sorry we didn't celebrate it sooner."

Y/N shook her head. "It's-"

"Y/N!" The woman turned her head and gasped. Her childhood bestfriend Sam. He was tall, blonde and blue eyed. Spencer took note of that

"Sam!?" She let go of Spencer's shoulders amd ran into Sam's open arms. Spencer scoffed and watched them subtly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

He watched as Sam smiled down at her, the two of them talking incredibly fast. Sam had his hand on Y/N's arm, ribbing it up and down. He even grabbed her a beer at one point.

As Emily walked by, Spencer grabbed her arm. "Who is that and why is he here?" Spencer asked, nodding towards Y/N and Sam. Sam was now feeding her a bite of a cupcake. Spencer rolled his new eyes as Emily smirked.

"Y/N never told you about Sam?" She asked, elbowing him. Spencer shook his head. "They lived next door to each other and they became best friends. They even went to college together."

"College?" Spencer repeated. Emily nodded and walked away.

"Pretty boy, you look like you could use a drink." Derek said, walking up beside with a glass of tequila. Spencer sighed amd took it, taking small sips of it, scrunching his face up with each.

Spencer turned his back to Y/N and Sam. "I mean, Y/N just completely ditched me for Sam when I've been with her all day! I mean Sam, really? Since when is she into blonde guys?" The music was loud over his voice but what he didn't notice was that the song playing was almost over. "And am I jealous? Yes. Do I wish I wasn't? Yes. Am I in love with Y/N? Yes!" Derek's eyes widened as he realized everyone including the birthday girl heard that as the song went off.

"Man, you are such a lightweight." He shook his head. Spencer's eyes were squeezed shut and he turned around.

When he opened them, Y/N stood there with a big smile on her face. "You're in love with me, huh?" She asked from across the room.

Spencer didn't say anything. She walked towards him slowly, the smile never leaving her lips. When she got to him, she tugged him dkwn to her level and kissed him. Right there in front of everyone.

It was a kiss that no one in that room would forget.

Especially Spencer Reid.

------------------------

Hey y'all! That was the third day for Spencervember!

I hope you liked it!

[literaila]

HEYY! Idk if you’re taking requests but I literally love the way your write is… I don’t know how to explain it but the way your write love fics if like as if Romeo and Juliet had a kid and they became an author… anyways

Imagine the team goes into a case in the reader hometown (she/her) and she found out that the guys she once used to love soo much had been captured and she had been doing so much to get him out and Spencer was feeling guilty because he felt this big jealousy and insecurity. Anyways they found the guy but he was barely alive and when the reader went to go see him at the hospital, he said that he never stopped loving her and if he was going to die soon he wanted to hear the reader tell him that she still loved him and that she never stopped. And the reader feeling about him lord to him and said all those things and what she didn’t know was that Spencer heard her saying how much she loved him and how she would never stop. Spencer got jealous and left to their house before the team and started packing his bags but the reader got home in time and she explained everything to him and then there’s like fluffy ending (sorry this was long) I hope your having a good day!

the taste of acid.

spencer reid x gn!reader

a/n: okay, i changed it a little bit. as per usual. either way, I kept it mostly the same! i hope you enjoy it, all that good stuff. its so long. oh! the timeline is not linear on this one, so be cautious

*

this isnt fair is ringing in your head.

a buzzing, swirling sound.

it sounds like a million different voices, belittling you. a million different voices trying to remind you of something you’re already completely sure is true.

it sounds like a reprimand, it sounds like someone is trying to chastise you for something that is beyond your control.

this isnt fair you’re telling yourself while trying to dissipate that burning feeling from ever existing. you want the energy, you want the words, back.

you want the ability to speak, the ability to breathe, the ability to live within the confines of your walls contently, you want so much back but--

it’s a forgotten memory. it’s gone now.

you laugh, turn away from him, this isnt fair you’re thinking.

but then again, what is?

*

you’re listening to the soft pitter-patter of your shoe bouncing against the floor. realistically, it shouldn't sound this loud, but it does. you think maybe it’s a sign that something is wrong but then you tell yourself to ignore that fact.

you were the one assigned to go to the hospital. something about comforting, something about questions.

you know exactly what lies beyond those walls. you know the secrets that are pouring room them, the raindrops that never quite stop falling. it's a flood, you’re sure because everyone has secrets. you can hear the voice, a past one, reminding you.

everyone has secrets.

and no, you think, this one was never quite meant to get out. the walls should have been strong than that.

you hate hospitals, you think. you don't like the smell, you don't like sitting in them alone.

you don't like that you can taste your own very sour breath. you don't like that you can still feel your eyelids being weighed down by a dream not quite finished. you don't like that your limbs feel numb, you don't like that you’re here alone, you don't like the phone that woke you up this morning, you don't like that you never got the chance to talk to him before the two of you walked out the door-

you hate feeling this way, you hate hospitals.

you’ve already spoken to the nurse, victim's not up. you’ve already concreted an answer in your mind, the answer is no. you’ve already cried all your soiled tears, remember.

you think that this is not quite fair. you think that this might be the thing that breaks you.

you think that you might feel giddy, some other time. you think that you should be reminiscing over the past night.

you’re really just trying not to think at all.

not about the secrets, not about the questions, not about the walls or the doors or the tiny little cracks in your foundation. you’re trying not to think about his lips-

and then your name is called, he’s ready, they tell you.

and you’re walking.

you’re listening to the soft pitter-patter of your shoe against the floor, much louder than it might be. you’re listening to the pitter-patter of rain between the walls because yes, you laugh, you have many other secrets just waiting to be discovered.

one of them might soon be found, you remind yourself.

but you don't let the nerves get to you. you don't let the old feelings invade your system. you’ve got so many other things that you need to be thinking about and this, well, this doesn't seem as scary as it might’ve a day ago.

you want to laugh at the nervous person you might’ve been before last night.

there is no anticipation, there is no hesitation, there is no thought as you walk into the room.

and you’re not even scared as you say: “lucas?”

and your heart definitely doesn't jump when you see that familiar smile.

*

spencer sits behind you while you type something into your computer.

you haven't looked over to him in a couple of minutes but you can feel his presence. steady, warm, a beating heart close to yours. a reminder of life sitting in this room.

you welcome his breathing. you welcome the flipping of pages.

and you welcome any and all distractions.

"how do you spell handkerchief?" you ask, spinning in your chair to look at him.

his returning glance is dubious. "you sound focused."

you roll your eyes, sliding your chair closer to him unconsciously. your body is craving his warmth, your mind is desperately crawling away from your computer.

spencer continues, "i thought you were working on a case report?"

his words are not questions, no, just glaring reminders of your incompetence.

"i'm mentioning the handkerchief i saw lying on the floor when we left," your eyebrows raise at the exact moment his do.

spencer looks up, thinks for a moment. his lips curl around your words, his smile a wonderful distraction. you take the moment to stand up and go sit on the couch next to him.

then he looks back at you. "there was no handkerchief," he says, ignoring your nod, "and you know how to spell it."

you slip your shoes off, scratching your heel. "i think that computer is killing some of my brain cells," you pause to look up at him. "and don't say-"

"technically, the only common cause of "cell death"--neurons--is brain disease-"

"reid," you groan.

"-and blue light wouldn't cause apoptosis." spencer is staring at you. you don't notice the way his eyes trail over the shape of your face, you don't realize that these words are merely a placeholder for him, a way to get you to look away. "though," he smiles "if you're worried about brain disease i can schedule you an appointment-"

"spencer," you groan again, making him chuckle only slightly. when you realize he's completely stopped you look over. "can't you just let me be dramatic?"

spencer runs a hand through his hair, his other hand playing with the page of his book. he leans back. "hyperbole was never a strong point of mine."

you smile at him for a moment and then look away. spencer's fingers return to his book, flipping the page almost as soon as you do.

you breathe in the comforting air, the home away from home that you're in. you've loved spencer's apartment since he first invited you over.

you sigh. "wanna watch a romcom?"

spencer snorts, not bothering to look up. his voice is softer than his motion. "i really want to finish this book," he says.

and immediately, you moan, kick a foot towards him in disgust.

"you still have a report to finish," he says, flips a page, ruining the peace with nothing more than a simple gesture. "it'll only take me fifteen minutes more."

"spencer," you lean your head into the couch, groaning louder. if nothing, at least this'll get spencer to look over to you.

"i promise," he says, softly, you can hear the smile, stupid smile, and you don't move your head.

but then the silence gets a bit too loud.

in an instant, you're moving away from your place, and instead, placing yourself closer to him. close enough to bother him only slightly.

you let your eyes rest on the page he's looking at. "whatcha reading?" you ask and smile up at him, telling him your goal without the words.

he sighs your name and tilts his book away.

you place a finger on the vein on his hand, running it across his tendon. you laugh when he shivers away.

"if you're not going to watch a movie with me," you say, looking up at him some more. "least you can do is read to me."

you knew--and know--the request would at least get you an eye roll. spencer points his "really?" face towards you, giving you a moment to observe the soft color of his eyes.

it's a long enough glance to tell you that he isnt actually annoyed.

"yes, really," you say despite his non-answer. "i refuse to do any more work tonight."

"fifteen minutes," spencer sighs, teasing the word on his lips. if he was anyone else you'd say he "sing-songed" it.

"unacceptable," you whisper, moving in closer, tilting the book back towards you.

spencer, you can feel, is relenting. his hands follow yours, his eyes drift away from your face. his body is not relaxed but not necessarily uncomfortable. your warmth, you wonder, might be welcome.

spencer does not sigh again, he does not ask you to move away.

instead, he asks, "do you want me to start from the beginning?"

you look down at his hands, notice that he's already halfway through the book for the first time.

you grin, only slightly.

"no, it's okay."

spencer does not question this, and you think that maybe he understands already. you're surprised he's entertaining you at all.

you shift closer to him, molding your body into his. you can smell chocolate coming off of his sweater, you can feel him swallow from just the slightest movement. you get yourself comfortable.

spencer says nothing, merely shifts the book towards you, as if that was the reason you'd gotten closer in the first place.

you smile and stare down at the blurred words.

maybe, you're actually just staring at the shadows of his hands.

*

later, there's a streetlight reflecting off your face.

you can't remember how long spencer read to you, how long the two of you stayed up grinning at each other, laughing at words that weren't really words; you don't know how late it is.

you just remember drifting off to the quiet rasp of someone else's voice. you just remember letting yourself move even closer to him, letting yourself rest your cheek on something that definitely was not a pillow.

and now, when you wake up and it's still dark outside, now you realize that was spencer's chest.

now, you wake up because something is flinching beneath you.

you wake up because spencer is talking in his sleep. because something is going on behind his eyes.

you hazily blink yourself awake, now, and you realize almost immediately what's happening.

"spencer," you whisper, lifting the weight of your head off of him. you try to push yourself away, trying to use the couch beneath the two of you as leverage, but spencer's got one of your hands crushed between his.

"hey, spencer," you try louder, letting your breath fall against his cheek, eyes worried as they prod over his face. "c'mon, spence. it's alright, wake up."

you bring your free hand up to his face, you mold your fingers around his cheek, and rub the skin with your thumb.

even if you wanted to, shaking him awake isnt possible.

"spencer," you say one last time before his eyes fly open.

his body bends against yours and in an instant he's pulling the two of you forward, sitting up, blinking rapidly, and trying to slow the rapid heartbeat you can feel below your fingertips.

he doesn't speak, barely breathes as he moves the two of you. you think that you might be saying something--just to fill the silence--but you don't know what.

its almost as if you're waking up with him. you feel the same panic pounding in your chest.

"what?" he whispers, finally finding his voice, finally breaking the distance between the two of you.

and instead of anything else, you just ask another question. "were you having a nightmare?"

correction, the stupidest question.

you almost laugh at your own oblivion but spencer's staring at you, he's meeting your eyes when he nods.

you stay silent, staring back, carefully.

you don't think about how neither of you has moved away.

you don't think about the color of his eyes.

"are you okay?" you ask instead.

spencer, breathing more steadily now, looks away, maybe outside like you did when you woke up. "yes," he says. "yes, i-" he looks back at you, swallows. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake you."

almost as if he's just noticed, he looks down at both of your bodies, about the sleepy posture you'd collected yourself into, about the close structure you've built around the two of you.

he looks up at you and then down again.

suddenly, you feel it. the heat, the burning of his body against yours. you feel your hand in his, you feel his chest against yours. you feel the shock, the palpable disdain forming between both of your bodies. you feel the fire sparking in the lack of distance.

you look at him again.

"you're okay?" you ask, again again, you're not sure what else there is to say but that's also not why you're asking this question.

spencer nods, and then he nods again.

yes, he's telling you. you can feel it, just like you can feel the burning.

yes, you think.

yes, it's enough, you know.

you've only just noticed how close the two of you are, you've only now just noticed this close proximity, you've only just realized that your face is right above his, that you're breathing and you can feel him breathing-

he nudges his nose against yours. just barely, just enough to be felt.

and when your bodies, when your eyes, when your smiles and your secrets and the burning, when your bodies crash together.

so do your lips.

and spencer is pulling you back down with him, he's telling you yes, he's accepting the falling of the two of you and he's kissing you back, he's begging you for more more more.

you don't complain.

you can barely feel anything except the pounding, burning, screaming against the two of you.

you've never been kissed like this, you've never needed more words to describe such a thing, you've never had to burn yourself raw to feel something this pleasurable.

you've never kissed anyone like this before, and you think, yes.

more, more, more.

that night, against the fluttering of a flaming heart, you fall asleep for the second time.

kissing the burning lips of spencer reid.

*

it wasn't the first step in the room that made you nervous. or even the second.

it wasn't the hospital--damn, hospital--that was making the anxiety rattle itself against your bones.

it was not the secrets.

and no, it wasn't the room.

walking in the room was not a threat; it did not scare you in the slightest.

but the memories--screaming, pounding, burning memories that send an arrow shooting through your heart again and again--that flashed, the smile repeating itself a million times. lucas, sitting in front of you, smiling.

well, admittedly, that made you a bit nervous.

and it wasn't just because he'd almost been killed. it wasn't just because you were here on a job, it wasn't just because you were here supposed to be prodding an old friend for answers about a murderer running wild.

it wasn't really about that at all. you were desensitized to the thought, which felt wrong.

it was more the familiar ache, one you'd been trying not to think about.

you shook it off. the memories, the secrets pounding against the wall like a child throwing a tantrum--let me out let me out--the nervousness, the memories, the pent-up feelings piled in your heart.

tried to smile instead of wince.

lucas gestured toward a chair by the hospital bed, his face familiar, wrinkled, slightly sickly, but the same as it had been when you'd last seen him.

"how are you?" you asked first, filling the scrutinizing silence. this was a moment you had to speak. "are you doing okay?"

it was a ridiculous question. it was considerate but wrong. this was uncomfortable but welcome.

it felt off.

"i've been better," there was a laugh, an echo in your head. "though, they're pumping me with pain killers, so, i've also been worse."

you tried to laugh but it felt wrong, off. instead, you stared at the heart monitor, trying to remember some fact that you'd heard weeks ago. trying not to remind yourself what came with hospitals, what happened the last time you were in one, what happened this morning, what happened years ago and-

you stared at the monitor, expecting a change.

lucas spoke again, eyes following yours. "you're fbi now?" he asked but didn't ask. "when we were kids you wanted nothing more than to become a botanist and raise a plant army."

your eyes, finally awake, broke away from their gaze. you looked over to lucas, a sudden fondness making its way to your heart.

this was comfortable, you thought, not just because of who he was. you could make this comfortable, you thought, and not just because you were supposed to.

it wasn't hard to speak back. "it turns out that's 'unrealistic,'" you made a show of rolling your eyes. "but i did focus on toxicology in school," you smiled at him, remembering the situation. "not as fun, but it pays enough."

lucas laughed, sitting further up on the bed. while you could pretend, you couldn't ignore his pounding eyes on you, trying to memorize the new lines of age on your face. "yeah?" he asked, smiling drifting for a mere second. "you look good--grown--" he added hesitantly. "still got smile lines despite, i assume, the work gloom."

you bite the inside of your cheek. "thanks. i would say the same, but..."

lucas sighed, a sudden fog clearing over his eyes.

yes, of course, you remember, you curse. of course, this wasn't about memories, this isnt about secrets, no feelings, no emotion.

you stop smiling, collect your face into a statue once familiar to you.

you don't think much about anything else.

"how much do you remember?" you run over the facts in your head while lucas ponders your question. you're not sure how much help he'll be, but it's clear enough now that you can't leave this hospital room empty-handed.

you've been distracted enough today. you don't want the pounding question to follow you all the back home.

you don't want to get too lost.

"it's all a bit of a blur. i got home and then..." he sighs, smiles at you apologetically.

the last time you saw that smile, you were a teenager, getting your heart massacred for the first time.

you move forward.

hotch thought that your history with lucas made you the best person to talk to him but you know that your memories are trying to kill every rational question you need to ask.

and if you pushed back against your breath for a moment, you might feel that familiar longing. rotted from the years you'd shoved it away.

you shake your head. throw the memories far away.

"memory loss is not uncommon for traumatic events--your brain is trying to protect itself by keeping all the memories hidden from you," you pause, gauge his reaction. he looks stiff, shaken from something he probably doesn't recognize. "i'd like to run a cognitive interview to help you remember. any small details might provide some insight in our investigation."

you do not stare, do not blink at him as you say this. you think that maybe you're trying to imagine him as someone else.

"cognitive interview?"

you push your chair further away from him, look at the clock above his head.

"it just means i'm going to ask you sensory questions--not necessarily specific to the man that attacked you--to see if anything important pops up."

lucas nods.

"this process can be triggering, lucas. you have every right to say no, i don't want you to push yourself too soon."

lucas smiles at you, there's something different. "but, it'll help you?" he asks, he's leaning towards you unconsciously, he's reminding you of something you can't quite recall.

"yes," you answer, hesitantly. "it might strengthen our investigation."

you can feel it then, both of your emotions, bouncing off of each other. you're different wavelengths, floating with each other.

you hear the secrets banging on the walls.

pitter-patter, they seem to say. let me out, they seem to beg.

and lucas' eyes when he answers "okay" remind you of something else. they seem much more familiar than his smile. much more familiar than they did just a moment ago.

and when you respond "okay" back, well, you think you might be letting that longing poison your system.

you start asking him questions without an ounce of hesitation.

*

"are you okay?" you're asking as soon as you've decided to stop asking questions.

lucas has gone stiff, his eyes are rapidly blinking, trying to erase a memory from his brain once again. he'd begun shaking five minutes ago and you hadn't thought to stop then.

you feel guilty now, for making him feel this way.

you're sure he'd tell you that it wasn't your fault.

you try to smile at him, try to speak without speaking.

it doesn't quite work the same as you're used to. there's a voice pounding in your head.

"do you need anything? can i get you some water?" you look towards the heart monitor, wish you had noticed it spiking minutes ago.

but lucas, he shakes his head, breathes a shaky breath out, and stares at you.

like he's trying to ground himself.

"did any of that help?" he asks and it sounds more like did i go through all of that for nothing?

you pause to take a breath in, try to comfort him by breathing slowly. you're trying to let him catch his breath but it doesn't seem to be working.

you don't know how to comfort him through this.

"yes," you promise. "yes, but i almost wish i hadn't done it."

he swallows. his eyes pour over you, looking for a distraction. "why?"

you smile, hesitantly. you're not sure if this is the right thing to say, but at least, you think, at least it's something.

you don't think you can handle any more silence today.

"because i hate seeing you..." you pause, begging your tongue for the right word. "hurt like this."

those words seem to get you the first genuine smile from him since you started asking questions.

you note how his breathing has slowed in the last minute, look towards the clock for only a mere second.

you don't tell yourself that it's an excuse to keep that feeling from crawling up your throat.

memories, you think, are something you'd like to avoid. you've thrown away that key.

"y/n," lucas says, eyes shifting from terror to something you might've once let yourself see. "you should know that i don't mind feeling like this" he pauses again, seeming to look for your reaction now. you keep your face still as stone. "because it's been far too long since i've seen you,"

"lucas-"

"and i'll take whatever i can get."

you swallow a lie, force your body to move backward. you've done this once before, with him, a long time ago.

"you're basically just telling me that you're a masochist," it's a tease, a quip not quite real.

a sentence filling the void of something else you might've wanted to say.

lucas, though, laughs. "no," he says, smiling at you now, reminding you of a teenager. "i'm telling you that i've missed you. and that i apologize for the things i said to you before you left-"

you glare now, body reacting differently to these words than it should. "lucas, you don't need-"

"i would like to make it up to you," he says, interrupting your thought process. "i would like another chance-"

but then, before your heart can fall back into place, before lucas can finish his sentence, before you can feel anything but the emotions you'd absorbed from the man sitting in front of you, before anything else can happen

the door opens.

and you're reminded, again and again, what secrets are still stuck between the walls. pitter-patter, they taunt.

your heart crashes against the floor once more, stinging with the stinge of a brand.

spencer's eyes are wide, you can see a cloud of something else on his face.

his face is silence, filling the walls of a crowded plane.

there's a burning sensation in your mouth, something unwanted.

you wonder just how much of that he heard, but of course, spencer's face leaves everything to be questioned.

"spencer," you breathe out, stepping back from lucas, letting your face fall to stone once again. "this is lucas williams, he was at the second house and he was an old friend back in-"

"i know," spencer says, looking right past you to the man who has no idea what's happening here.

then his eyes shift back to you, observing your face for a moment. you wonder if that means anything, if it means what you want it to mean. you wonder if he’s checking to see if you’re okay.

you wonder if he knows who this really is, if he really does remember everything, if he remembers what you've told him.

you wonder if that's why he hasn't introduced himself yet.

you feel your heart fill with ash. you want to scream, throw yourself away from this feeling.

"lucas, this is dr. spencer reid," you pause, the words stuck in your throat. "my co-worker."

"hi," lucas says.

no one says anything for a moment, the familiar two men in the room staring at each other like they're undiscovered species, and you, trying to figure out how the hell to feel anything right now.

you'd almost forgotten about this morning, for just a moment.

similarly to how you'd forgotten to brush your teeth.

you want to laugh, but your voice is locked in a cage of knives. you try and clear your throat.

remind yourself of the fairness of this situation. there is none.

you smile, now, sarcastically. "well, lucas, i think i've got everything i need," you stare at him, trying to make your smile seem more genuine. his eyes shift when he looks at you.

you actually clear your throat this time.

"you've been a big help, the fbi appreciates your cooperation" you lower your voice then, completely aware of the other person in the room. "and so do i."

someone clears his throat behind you.

"of course, y/n," lucas says. "anything you need."

there's a double meaning behind those words that you dont bother to think about.

you pick up your bag then, pick up the file you'd taken with you, pick up those pieces of yourself from off the floor and try to figure out anything that there might be left to say.

your brain is quiet. silence, irritating you like nothing else.

spencer gestures towards the door when you look up at him, a stern face, the familiar one, telling you it's time to go.

you cant tell if you're imagining his hard composure.

you begin to walk out the door, taking the lead, when lucas speaks from behind the two of you.

"y/n, if you get a chance," he says, casually, softer than before, reminding you of something else. "i'd love to get coffee sometime."

spencer's head jerks, but you say planted in front of him.

"okay," you say.

and then you leave.

*

the taste in your mouth is not your own.

the phone ringing is not yours.

the two of you move up, once so close, once so collected into a tiny cocoon, once so peaceful in the middle of the night.

now you're climbing off of spencer.

now he's sliding away from you, grabbing his phone before you get the chance to say anything. he's ignoring the gentle smile you try to send his way.

"jj?" he asks, voice rough from sleep, lips puffy from you.

you're staring at him, trying to collect your thoughts but all you can think about is the tingling still on your lips, you can see yourself, you can see him, you can see the two of you, kissing, right in front of your eyes and you have no idea what to think.

well, you do, of course, you do, you really do, but-

you must've missed the rest of the conversation because spencer is pulling the phone away from his ear, avoiding eye contact with you.

the memories are not flashing behind his eyes.

when your phone begins to ring, next, you swallow, already knowing who it is.

"you didn't tell her i was with you?" you ask him, grabbing your phone from the floor, moving closer to him.

you realize your mistake a second later. move back before spencer can flinch away from you.

"no," is all he responds, and then he flys off the couch, turning towards the kitchen before your eyes can begin to follow.

the distance feels immeasurable., it feels like it's creeping up onto you, cuddling you like an old friend.

you swallow the rotted taste in your mouth.

"hello?" you say into the phone, listening to the calming voice that is jj's while you try to listen for spencer. your heart is racing, fluttering against the worry bubbling up in your stomach. "yeah, yes," you say when she finishes. "uh-huh, i'll be there. just..."

she hangs up, you must've missed the last thing she said.

you shake your head.

you've felt the difference in the air since you woke up. the drastic change from then to now and the cool air that flooded between the two of you as soon as spencer's phone started ringing.

you were frozen for a moment, not realizing that spencer was already moving.

and then and then.

your heart pounds against your chest. you think there must be something missing.

"spencer?" you call, hating yourself for the silence, hating yourself for not remembering if he said anything before the two of you fell asleep. hating the two of you for falling asleep in the first place.

he walks into the room in an instant, almost as if he'd been standing by the door. "yes?" he asks, looking at you will dull, concerned eyes.

they're saying nothing to you.

you bite your lip, run a hand over your forehead, forge the silence for words because you're sure that you have to say something before you throw up.

before you remember if spencer kissed you back or not.

"are you okay?" you ask, and it's such a wrong thing to say, you can tell, but it's the only thing you can manage to get out.

you can't just ask a person do you remember kissing me, and did you like it the way i did?

you can't just blurt out words like they mean nothing.

"no, yeah, i'm-" spencer stumbles further into the room, his words are rushed, his hands are almost frantic. "i'm fine, i'm just-" he stops.

stares at you.

it feels still, frozen, dull. his eyes are not colorful, they are numb.

his lips are shaking, words failing.

you stare back, not sure what to do about this.

you can both feel the tension, you're sure, you know that it's why spencer is acting so frightened, so nervous. you know why it feels so weird.

and yet you can't get yourself to say it before he does.

"i'm sorry," he starts, taking a step forward and then back. "i shouldn't have done that, last night," he swallows, looks you in the eye just once more. "it wasn't fair to you."

your brows furrow as you watch him.

"oh," you say, you stumble, can't comprehend, you fall off the cliff that he's led you to. you smile. "i'm- i'm not mad, just, um."

um, um, um.

huh, you think, you seem to have forgotten how to talk to him.

"you seemed worried, is all, and i..." you're staring at him, he's looking right past you. "i'm not mad."

"okay," he says and moves away. "okay," he says and then he gestures towards the doorway, towards your phone. you cant keep up. "we have to get ready--there's a case."

he says it as if you didn't already know.

"there's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom."

he walks away, a door shuts.

a door slams against your heart, a pounding, burning feeling makes its way up to your chest and it's, it's just not, the same.

this is not pleasant in any sense of the word. this does not feel like, yes, more more more.

this feels like crumbling, crashing against the floor, and not bothering to pick up the pieces.

you want to laugh, you want to shove the reality in your own face and ridicule yourself for being so stupid-

you walk to the bathroom, shut the door behind you with a wince.

it's the first time the tears spring to your eyes, try to poke and prod at your heart. its the first time you've kissed spencer, and ha, it's the last, you think.

you hadn't realized just how much you'd wanted to do that. until, until you did and it was a burning, stinging feeling.

you stand in the bathroom.

you don't use the extra toothbrush.

you don't brush away this taste that isnt yours.

*

spencer meets you at the door. his face looks sullen behind his smile, but, you think, you're probably making that up.

you've been making things up recently.

"ready?" you ask, sliding on your shoes, breaking silence like you'd break glass.

delicately.

spencer nods, watching your feet. he does not look up, you do not expect him to.

you feel anxious, nervous bubbles floating up towards your throat and you can tell that spencer is avoiding the subject because that's the completely rational thing to do, but-

"you were having a nightmare, right?" you say, ignoring the carefully enacted oblivion.

you cannot live in bliss all day.

spencers head jumps, not exactly meeting your eyes but looking at your face. he'd done the same thing last night, trying to uncover a secret you were no longer trying to keep.

not that you kept it well in the first place. maybe that's why he was so uncomfortable.

"yes," spencer says, nodding.

"is that why you kissed me?" the words fly out of your mouth without warning, they bounce against the walls and hit you directly in the face.

you can feel the socks being shoved down your throat, you can feel the silence you've carved out and you only just now realize that you're being an idiot, that you need to move on, that you should just leave-

spencer clears his throat.

"it was-" he seems to think for a moment, brows contorting as he contemplates an answer you can't see. "it was about-"

and the moment his eyes drop, you understand.

you can see the unspoken words on his lips before he even says them. it is excruciating pain, it is hell and you are the devil, it is hell and he is pushing you against the firey walls.

"it was about maeve." he closes his eyes tightly, shakes his head like he's trying to push a memory away. "i messed up," his voice falters, falls against the floor. "i didn't mean to use you like that-"

"spencer," your mouth tastes horrible, the memories flashing are like nightmares creeping up on you.

cruel repeats of something you didn't even realize.

"really, i was trying to ground myself to you and in the moment i didn't realize that i was-"

"hey-"

"-crossing a boundary. it was a mistake, i shouldn't have kissed you."

you stop trying to speak, the words dissipate in your throat. they burn up with the rest of the oxygen in the room.

you play his voice over in your head.

"i'm sorry," he says, finally, looking you in the eye.

you nod because you can't feel at all. you cant feel your bone, or your muscles, or your flinching heart, your burning ash-filled heart, your failing lungs, your crippling will.

you don't feel anything.

you just nod.

"okay," you finally say when the air comes back.

you don't say it's okay. you don't respond to his apology, you don't look at him, you don't breathe.

you don't say it's okay because it was a mistake.

*

spencer and you walk through the halls silently, two people, obviously not walking together.

your footsteps are not in sync, you are two separate organisms, living in a world where nothing matters.

you listen to the tap tap tapping of his shoes against the tile floors.

you hate hospitals, you think.

"did he remember anything?" spencer asks, checking his watch, not looking at you.

you know he's not really asking.

"he gave a description of the unsub, not unlike what we've already heard, but..."

the words feel empty in your mouth.

spencer is opening doors for you, letting you lead the way, letting you walk away from him if you wanted, but he knows, but you know, that this is not normal.

the two of you are out of sync, that much is obvious.

and you're not sure if you want to fall back into place. you're not sure if you can forgive spencer for letting you think, for just a moment, that things might-

you breathe in, don't look at him. he opens another door for you.

"do you think he'd be willing to talk to a sketch artist?"

you let your eyes flick over to him for just one irritated moment. you breathe another breath of air and count the moments before you know he might look at you.

he doesn't.

"i think," you say, much more carefully than you intend. "that he's been through enough for one day. we should see what jj and rossi have before we ask him for anything else." your words are tense.

"if we can get a sketch out to the public it might-"

"did you finish at the crime scene? is that why you came to get me?" you change the subject without a moments hesitation.

spencer pauses. you don't have to look over to see that he's confused with your actions.

"no," he says. "i volunteered to come. i thought," he stops, you see his arm move to run a hand through his hair.

you've finally reached the exit, spencer holds the door open for you once more.

you watch his eyes this time, on accident, you stare at him as you push past the doors.

"you thought what?" you ask as soon as he's outside with you.

"i thought you might want some help interrogating him," he says, softly, as if there was a secret you weren't aware of.

let me out let me out, they beg. you roll your eyes at the taunt.

your brows furrow as the two of you begin walking towards the parking lot. a pang echoing in your chest. "you didn't think i could run a cognitive?" you ask, skeptically, not completely erasing the offensive from your tone. your feet hit the blacktop in perfect rhythm.

spencer's eyes widen, you know that much. "no," he emphasizes the word, takes a moment before he swallows, points you towards the car with a gesture. "i remember what you told me about him. and i just.."

he moves to the opposite side of the car and you stand there looking at him.

when he looks up you raise an eyebrow at him.

"what?" you ask, voice hard. you don't know why you're acting like this, but something in your head tells you not to stop.

spencer's eyes, though, only get softer. like he knows something you don't.

"well, the last time you saw him-"

you stop him before he can start. you suddenly regret telling him anything about lucas.

"don't, spencer."

you open your door, sliding into the car without passing him another glance.

"i just thought it might be easier for you if you had someone there. i didn't want you to be alone."

you quirk an eyebrow, not turning towards him.

"lucas was nothing but pleasant."

spencer, despite his soft eyes, besides his consideration, besides every other characteristic that fills his body, he scoffs.

you can feel the sudden shift in his attitude as he puts the car into drive.

"he apologized," you add as if to prove your point more. as if you had something to prove, as if as if. you are trying to keep your body from locking up, trying to keep yourself from blurting something, trying to avoid the impending doom.

"well, telling someone that 'you were just pretending to love them'-" spencer's voice is hard. his movements are fast, reckless indicators of unrecognizable anger.

you stop thinking.

"-might be a cause for guilt,"

you repeat the word mistake in your head until it isnt a word, you count how many times spencer breathes in, you count until the silence is gone.

you hate silence.

"that's not what happened," you whisper as if he was oblivious. as if he was wrong. as if spencer reid was ever wrong.

your voice feels weak, dull, as you breathe in and out.

your head is pounding, and it's not just because of what spencer said. you know that.

you both know why you're acting like this.

"okay," spencer says, making a left turn.

you can feel the taste in your mouth, burning the reality into your skin. you just should've brushed your teeth.

"sorry," spencer whispers back.

he knows why you're acting like this, he knows something you do not, and it's killing you.

"okay," you say.

the silence turns your skin into ash. you dont dare think about any of it.

*

its been maybe five minutes since you've looked at spencer. you know because you've been counting.

you allow yourself a look for every ten minutes that goes by.

you made that rule yesterday, after you got out of the car, after you decided that you were just going to put everything back into place.

friendship, yes please, you think. everything is fine, you promise.

and you only have five more minutes until you look at him.

you're not mad anymore, you don't think, but then again, you've been trying to avoid the subject. you went to bed thinking about toxicology because that seemed relatively normal.

and when the case ended, there was no need to think at all.

at least, that's what you're telling yourself, you promise.

the rest of the team is still packing up, the plane leaves in thirty minutes and you still haven't found the opportunity to tell any of them.

you decided this morning when you brushed your teeth.

you decided to stay, to let yourself feel those feelings, to ignore every other thing because it seemed so much less painful than the alternative-

"hey," derek says. "you're ready, already?"

you look behind you, at the desk, you still haven't packed up. you figured you'd have time. you figured that it would be easier if there was more than one reason to stay.

you don't look at spencer even though you want to.

you merely smile at derek, pointing down to the file you're writing in.

its a non-answer.

you're biding your time.

you think maybe its because you know what you're doing is wrong, because avoidance isnt the answer, because of lots of things.

it doesnt matter to you. you continue counting.

you only get the chance to look at spencer twice more when everyone is finally ready, when it's finally time to let them know, when it's time to move on, to forget something you desperately want to remember.

you're trying not to think about it.

"you don't have your stuff?" spencer asks when he walks by, bag in hand. he's ready, you're ready.

everyone else stops to look at you.

"no, i'm-" you swallow, smile at spencer, who you're not supposed to be looking at. "i've decided to stay for a couple of days."

spencer's eyes are on you but you look over to hotch.

"i hope it's okay," you say, because what else is there to say? what words do you have left?

he nods at you, smiling without smiling. you nod back. ready, you think.

spencer is still staring at you. "because of lucas?" his voice is low, trying to keep secret what you've already decided to reveal. trying to make you hate this just a little bit more.

it's a cruel action.

you smile at him, a grin that feels completely fake. "i figure he could use a friend for the next couple of days. i owe him that, at least."

everyone else is moving forward, letting go.

but this feeling, spencer standing barely a foot away from you, feels familiar.

hot, like heat.

"you're okay?" spencer asks, looking like he'd much rather be asking something else. his eyes are changing colors, different than you remember them. you vaguely feel like this has already happened.

you nod instead of answering, telling him yes without the words.

you don't see the way his eyes pass over your face, trying to memorize what he already knows. you don't see that he's trying to look for something.

you don't notice his fists clenched at his side.

"you'll call if you need anything?"

you almost smile. "what if i need you to read me to sleep?" you ask, you taunt, you feel the words slip before you can stop them.

it's the wrong thing to say, but spencer smiles a bitter smile anyway.

spencer says "lucas can probably do that."

you feel your heart jump, you feel the banging on the walls, you feel yourself thinking this isnt fair you feel him saying this was a mistake.

a buzzing, swirling sound.

it sounds like a million different voices, belittling you. a million different voices trying to remind you of something you’re already completely sure is true. it sounds like a reprimand, it sounds like someone is trying to chastise you for something that is beyond your control.

you feel his lips like a memory, like a dream you'd cultivated into reality, like a bad taste in your mouth.

and then you nod again. "yeah, probably," you say, hesitantly, because you don't want to make this awkward again because you'd already decided to move on-

ready, you think.

try to dissipate that burning feeling from ever existing.

it’s a forgotten memory. it’s gone now.

"have fun," spencer says, and it's a bland wish, it's a fake "get well" card he's handed to you. its an insult that you can't contemplate.

"okay," you say as he walks away, and you realize that you stopped counting, that you'd been staring at him this whole time.

you suddenly feel a pulling on your throat, something pulling you down. something in your throat, pulling the words and the feelings down with you, trying to make all of it disappear.

you want the energy, you want the words, back.

you want the ability to speak, the ability to breathe, the ability to live within the confines of your walls contently, you want so much back but--

you laugh, turn away from him. you're not supposed to watch this part. you're not supposed to be doing this anymore.

it hasn't been ten minutes yet, you tell yourself, beg, beg beg.

more more more, a voice says.

you turn back, just in time, just to watch, just to see.

his figure disappears.

this isnt fair you’re thinking.

you suddenly realize there's a bitter taste in your mouth.

*

my masterlist here.

[reidsnose]

sticky notes (spencer reid x reader) (platonic!baux reader)

overview: reader leaves and recieves a passive aggressive sticky note before going on a case

genre: fluff and humor?

a/n: i thought of this last night while i was trying to go to sleep and i could not stop thinking about that one vine and its also super snowy where i live lol. anyway i wrote it today throughout the school day and couldnt wait to put it on here :)

-

masterlist

-

'whoever used the last sugar packet, your moms a hoe.'

you let out a small chuckle and stuck the sticky not to the container that usually held packets of sugar before taking a sip of your bitter, unsweetened coffee that you would have to deal with for the rest of the day.

"i hope hotch didn't take it," prentiss laughed, peering over at the note.

"everyone knows hotch drinks his coffee black." you retorted.

"no only you know that because you were his assistant before you joined the team," she joked, resulting in you sending a light elbow to her side. "you know we are handwriting analysts. everyones going to know you wrote that."

"except that they wont because i type everything. besides, i dont really think anyone on the team wont take the joke." you chuckled, pushing the door open with your free hand and heading into the bullpen.

"briefing room in 5 minutes, we have a case," hotch called from the balcony.

"theres fresh coffee in the break room, i feel like were going to need it," you said to the rest of the team that were sitting at there desks.

they all eagerly got up, ready for a fresh, hot drink to wake them up. you smiled as you walked to the briefing room, standing by your unassigned assigned seat. you took a sip of your drink, making a face at the bitter taste.

"why is your beautiful face scrunched up?" Garcia asked, setting down files in front of all the empty seats.

"someone took the last sugar." you stated simply.

"i have some in the batcave, youre always welcome" she winked, sending you a warm smile which you gladly returned.

"youre the best."

"yeah i know," she answered before the other agents began filing in, Spencer taking a seat next to you. "alright crime fighters, today youre all headed to snowy Alaska."

"actually," rossi looked at hotch and then garcia before continuing, "Garcia i think youre coming too."

"sir?" she looked over at hotch.

"dave is right. the connection will be spotty anyway, it would be best if you came a long and worked from the precinct." hotch confirmed.

"oh. alright." she obliged before continuing with the details of the case.

(a/n: im waaayyyy too lazy to write a whole case)

"wheels up in 5, it will take a while to get there and we dont have time to waste." hotch said at the end of the briefing before walking out.

"oh shoot i left my phone in the break room," i whispered, smacking my forehead with my palm.

"do you want me to wait for you?" spencer offered.

"no its ok," you smiled, jogging down the stairs.

"ill take your go bag. hurry i dont know if i can convince them not to leave without you!" he called after me, a giggle escaping his throat at his own joke.

"thanks! it'll be their loss anyway!" you laughed, as you sped walked to the break room. "there you are." you whispered to your phone that was sitting on the counter.

your eyes drifted to the note you had left earlier only it was gone. a new note sat in its place, a reply scrawled on it.

'ill have you know my mother is a very nice lady'

you smiled and rolled your eyes, slipping the note into your pocket as you walked briskly towards the jet. you walked out and saw reid waiting for you at the door of the jet, motioning frantically for you to board. you had taken a little too long looking at the note.

"10 more seconds before you're officially late!" he yelled, looking at his watch.

you broke out into a sprint, running as fast as you possibly could, trying to get across the runway in time.

"dont leave without me!" you yelled out, knowing they wouldn't.

you looked at the windows, seeing the team's faces pressed against the glass, watching amused.

"5 seconds!" he warned as you neared the stairs. "3..." almost there! "2..." just a few more steps. "1!" his arms shot up as you pushed past him into the jet, just in the nick of time.

"wow im impressed pretty lady!" morgan laughed, giving you a high-five which you exasperatedly accepted.

"have a seat y/l/n, we have a long flight." hotch said. you began thinking he was made at you but then you saw him trying to stifle a smile, "i dont think ive even seen you run like that in the field."

he held out his fist which you bumped with your own before flopping breathlessly down onto one of the chairs on the jet.

~time skip to the end of the case because i feel like it~

you walked out of the police department, watching your own breath swirl around the air in front of you.

"could you believe that detective?" jj scoffed walking with you towards the suvs in the parking lot.

"i know he was so...creepy." you agreed, "if i smelled his coffee breath one more time id take his tiny d-"

you didnt get to finish your sentence, though; you felt a cold snowball bash against the back of your head.

"gotta go!" jj laughed, hopping into one of the last suvs and driving off.

"whoever threw that snowball, your moms a hoe!" you yelled out crouching down to gather some snow.

"what?" spencer yelled, emerging from behind a trashcan.

"IT WAS YOU!" you laughed, throwing a snowball and hitting him straight in the chest.

"wait no. what did you just say?" he asked, eyes wide.

"i said whoever threw that snowball, your moms a hoe." you stated, suddenly feeling bad, "but not your mom, diana is-"

"a very nice lady." he finished, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a crumpled little paper.

"oh my gosh," you breathed, pulling out a note from your own pocket.

"i had a feeling it was you!" he laughed.

you raised your eyebrows, "yeah right! you had no clue!"

"i totally did! i was like, 'hmmm who in the office talks like this? oh yeah my idiot best friend'." he countered, smirking.

"well i had a feeling it was you too!" you lied, crossing your arms.

"youre lying!" he laughed.

"no im not!"

"yes you are! you have a tell!"

"i do?!"

"yes! you purse your-" he swiftly reached to the floor and picked up a small amount of snow, wiping it across your mouth, "-lips."

the cool snow melted quickly on your now very warm face, causing you to instinctively wipe your it with your sleeve, "oh its on!"

snowballs were flying left and right in the nearly empty parking lot, seeking refuge all over your bodies. you watched him sneakily duck behind a trashcan, thinking you hadn't seen him. letting out a small chuckle you creeped towards the trashcan, standing behind him as he peered his head around the other side, looking for where you had gone. you took a small amout of snow and reached your arm around his head, wiping it against his mouth as he had. he jumped letting out a small scream before turning around and latching his arms around your waist.

he picked you up and spun you around, loosing his footing on the slippery, causing a strange mix of a laugh and a scream to escape your mouth. he fell back on a fresh layer of snow, with a dull thump. you fell directly on top of him, your foggy breaths melding together as your laughs started fading. his eyes flickered from your eyes down to your lips, a new rouge gracing his cheeks and nose, one that would be there regardless of the cold.

"ca-can i kiss you?" he asked, looking back up at your eyes.

"please." you smiled, heart close to bursting out of your chest as he closed the gap between you.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Protective of the Princess

Summary: Jo comes home with some unexpected news and Spencer isn’t a fan. (This is a stand-alone one-shot of my completed ‘Rebuilding Family’ series)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: mentions of little kids kissing, spencer freaking out, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: based on this ask from @reidsbookclub and this ask from @samuel-de-champagne-problems

Masterlist

Spencer made it clear to Jo she could be anything she wanted to be growing up.

She would change her mind about her career path quite often but Spencer was always supportive. When she wanted to be a vet, she had a bunch of different stuffed animals to practice on. When she wanted to be an astronaut, you all built a rocket ship out of a cardboard box. When she wanted to be a scientist, Spencer got her a book set of kid’s science books.

One afternoon after school, Jo hopped up on the kitchen counter as Spencer was making her a snack and you were playing with the twins on the floor.

“Daddy, I can’t go to work any more,” Jo stated.

“Why not, Princess?” Spencer asked, sliding apple slices and peanut butter in front of her.

“I have a baby and husband now,” Jo explained.

“You got a baby and husband in one day?” you questioned.

“Thomas kissed me and then we got married under the slide at recess and now we have a baby. I don’t have time for work, Daddy,” Jo sounded exasperated.

“Thomas did WHAT?” Spencer gaped.

“He kissed me like you kiss Mommy every morning before work,” she demonstrated the little peck on her baby doll.

Spencer’s eyes widened, “Y/N, please help.”

You stood from the blanket where the twins were having tummy time.

“Jo, how about you wait until you’re a little older to start kissing people? A hug or high five can show love to. You can try that next time,” you suggested.

“Daddy says kissing is safer than handshakes though,” Jo reminded you.

“Nope! I lied! Kissing is very dangerous,” Spencer shook his head empathically, “Don’t kiss.”

“But we have a baby together,” Jo held up her baby doll.

“I see that. What’s their name?” you asked.

“This is Derek,” she informed you.

“You named him after your uncle? That’s very sweet,” you smiled.

“I want a real one so I can name it Penelope. I want to have a big belly like Mommy used to have. How are babies made?” she questioned.

Spencer grasped your hand, looking very pale, “Y/N, I need to lie down.”

“One second, love,” you squeezed his hand before turning back to Jo, “You can’t have a baby until you’re much older. Then, I’ll explain it to you, okay?”

Jo nodded.

“I need to take Daddy to bed. He’s feeling a little sick,” you told her, “You can play with the twins.”

“Actually,” Spencer slipped his hand out of yours, “I’m going to go for a drive. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You looked at him curiously as he leaned in for a kiss but then retreated under the watchful eyes of Jo.

You followed him into the entryway as he laced his converse up, “Where are you going?”

“I’ve never heard of a Thomas before until now. I need Penelope to check this kid out.”

“Check this kid out?” you laughed, “What are you expecting to find? A nine year old with a criminal record?”

“I need to make sure my daughter is safe,” he looked up at you seriously.

“Okay,” you relented, “You’re a great dad albeit very protective,” you kissed him goodbye.

“Are we going to start having to only kiss in private now?” you smirked.

“I don’t want her seeing and copying it at school,” Spencer sighed, “The last thing I want is to get a phone call from her teacher that our daughter needs to stop kissing people.”

“Okay, sneaking around could be fun anyways,” you smiled, giving him another kiss, “Tell the team I say hi.”

-

“Who does this Thomas kid think he is?” Spencer grumbled to himself as he was in the elevator, “Kissing my sweet little precious daughter. I should have him arrested. Maybe I don’t have the grounds for an arrest but I can show him my badge and scare him off.”

His ranting stopped as he knocked on Penelope’s door.

“Who is it?” she chirped.

“Spencer,” he replied, “I brought you a croissant.”

“It’s open!”

Spencer opened the door and handed her the paper bag.

“And it’s still warm!” she squealed, “You must really love me.”

“I do but I also need a favor,” he spoke.

“Name it, boy wonder,” she readied herself at her keyboard.

“I need you to look up a boy named Thomas in Jo’s class.”

“Is this kid bullying her?” she gritted her teeth, “I swear to god, I will reign hell down on this kid if he is.”

“No, it’s the opposite actually. He kissed her,” Spencer sighed.

“She already got her first kiss?” Penelope gasped.

“I know! I didn’t even have mine until 25,” Spencer replied.

Penelope clicked away at her keys, “We’ve got two Thomases in her class but according to the attendance record, Thomas Jacobson was out sick today meaning Thomas Bennett is our guy.”

“What do we know about him?” Spencer asked, crouching down to look at Penelope’s screen.

“Plays on the town soccer team, has an allergy to shellfish, good report card,” Penelope stated.

“Anything else? Any visits to the principals? Sketchy friends?” he questioned.

“I guess the sketchiest friend he has would be his imaginary friend named Robby the cowboy according to his mom’s facebook. He’s got a squeaky clean school record.”

“Let me see what this kid looks like,” Spencer desperately demanded.

Penelope gave him a look.

“Please,” he added.

The group class pictures of the past 3 years popped up on to Penelope’s screen. Each year, Jo and Thomas were standing next to each other smiling and laughing in various poses.

“He doesn’t look like much of a threat to me,” Penelope stated.

“Why hasn’t she ever asked for him to come over on a playdate?” he asked.

“She was probably scared her dad was going to embarrass her,” Penelope chuckled.

“She’s in 3rd grade! No boys!” Spencer crossed his arms.

“That rule is setting you up for a rebellious stage later in life,” Penelope rolled her eyes.

“So I just let this happen?” Spencer sighed, dropping into the chair next to Penelope.

“Yes, you’re supposed to protect her but not from nice boys who make her happy.”

“But she’s just my sweet little girl,” Spencer started to tear up.

“And she always will be but you need to let her live her life,” Penelope explained.

“I know. Thanks Penelope.”

-

You heard the car pull in while you were making dinner. You lowered the setting on the stove and made your way over to the door.

“Hey,” you greeted him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hi,” he snuggled into the crook of your nest.

“Did you find Thomas on the FBI’s most wanted list?” you joked.

“No, he’s a good kid,” Spencer sighed in defeat, “I just don’t like the thought of her growing up. Then, she’ll eventually have to leave us.”

“That’s what being a parent is,” you whispered, “You love them, care for them, and prepare them for the world as best you can but then you have to set them free. But, I have good news for you,” you smiled.

“What?”

“You’re stuck with me forever,” you grinned.

“Thank god,” Spencer squeezed you tighter.

“Daddy!” Jo ran into the room, “Lion King is playing in theaters tonight! We need to go!”

“Okay, Princess,” he looked to you for support and you squeezed his hand, “Do you think Thomas would want to come?”

“Yes! He loves Lion King!” Jo exclaimed, running to go get ready.

“You’re a great dad,” you reminded him once again.

“I’m still going to be watching this kid like a hawk,” Spencer admitted.

“As you should,” you grinned, kissing him.

Soon enough, Jo came home next week saying she wanted to be a congresswoman and they were back to their old adventures.

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @ssacalumsg0lden @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @mggs-sidehoe @rexit-mo @hufflepuffhaze @thisismynerdyself @xoxospencerreid @wifeyprentiss @reidsbookclub @spencersrose @pinkdiamond1016 @muffin-cup @a-little-bit-of-everything19

one-shot only taglist: @strawberryspence @fbivestreid

[universalimagines]

Saw that you are writing for pll and I am hyped!!! Could I request the scene where Spencer was in the dollhouse with all the blood and she actually hurt the Reader because A made her do it but she can't remember? Reader remembers but doesn't want to talk about that? Once at the hospital after escaping, Aria sees that Y/N has a huge knife cut on her abdomen that gets stitched up and she is telling the girls in Spencer's hospital room? Reader is repellent to Spencer because she got the most hurt in the house because A thinks she is the weakest? Maybe after Spencer gets through her they talk about it? (Angst and fluff in the ending pls!!) 🍓

Spencer Hastings x Reader

The door opened to your room inside the hellscape that was A's Dollhouse.

The lights on the ground illuminated the path A wanted you to take. After you and the girls had tried to escape during A's Prom, she'd locked you all in your rooms for God knows how long.

Part of you wanted to give A the finger and tell her to screw off, but then you'd remember what you endured at A's hand and realized it would be easier to obey... for now.

You followed the lighted signs and saw that you were at Spencer's room. The door unlocked and you were let inside. On the floor was Spencer, passed out.

"Spencer!" You cried as you ran over to her and flipped her onto her back as the door shut behind you. Looking at her face, you saw massive bags under her eyes as if she hadn't slept in days. It didn't take long for you to realize A must have intentionally been sleep depriving her.

Suddenly Spencer's eye opened and she lunged at you screaming bloody murder. She was up so quickly that you only just noticed the giant Ka-Bar knife in her hand. She swung it brazenly at you drawing blood from your forearm.

"Spencer its me!" You yelled trying to calm her down.

But it didn't work. As you looked into her eyes and she kept coming after you, you saw they looked just like when she'd gone manic when she'd been addicted to drugs. You knew that in this state, she couldn't be reasoned with, only worn down.

As you attempted to continue dodging her, you made a miscalculation and tripped falling on your back. Spencer came down right on top of you screaming as she attempted to plunge the knife into your chest. And then she made contact. Her blade pierced your lower abdomen and she kept slamming the blade into you.

Your vision started to fade as Spencer in exhaustion gave up her assault and collapsed on top of you. Before you passed out, you felt an unknown person drag you away from Spencer and out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Eventually you and the girls did manage to escape that hellhole. However thanks to your injuries, the paramedics had to carry you out so you and the girls could be sent to the hospital.

Now the girls except you were all gathered in Spencer's room having taken the time to discuss their next course of action.

As the conversation of what to do with Spencer's revelation of someone called Charles, the conversation led to your notable absence.

"I wish we had Y/N to bounce some ideas off." Emily comments.

"Yeah. Where is Y/N anyway?" Hanna asks.

Aria fidgeted nervously in her seat. "I was with Y/N in the ambulance. They took Y/N to surgery.

Spencer shot up from her seat in shock. "What... why!?"

Aria continued. "They found Y/N in a room with a badly dressed stab wound. They moved Y/N to surgery as soon as we arrived."

"Let's go find the room. We need to be there for Y/N." Spencer said suddenly feeling a wave of energy as she marched off to the nurses station with the others in tow.

"Excuse me." Spencer said to the nurse. "We were all brought in with a friend, Y/N L/N. Can you tell me what room Y/N is in?"

The nurse turned to her computer and typed in the info. "Room 213."

"Thank you." Spencer said as she rushed off to your room.

As you came to, you saw that all the girls were hovered around your bed.

"Y/N's awake." Emily called out.

"Girls?" You mumbled. "What are you all doing here?"

"Aria told us someone stabbed you down in that hellhole." Hanna replied. "We wanted to make sure you're ok."

"I'm so glad you're ok. "Spencer then tried to grab your hand and you recoiled.

The girls were quick to notice this and Spencer looked like she might cry.

"I'm sorry... I... I'm just tired." You said trying to sound convincing.

The girls silently nodded and slowly dispersed from the room with Spencer lingering for an extra moment.

XXXXXXX

Back at home things just kept getting harder. It was still impossible for you to sleep without dreaming of the Dollhouse. But even worse, you'd been trying to avoid Spencer for the time. The encounter at the hospital hadn't been a one time affair. Anytime she tried to touch you, you'd recoil. You'd hoped time would ease the wound but it didn't

As you were out for a run trying to calm your mind, you saw Spencer leaning against her car clearly waiting for you to return. You tried to turn before she saw you but you took a bad step and tripped.

"Argh!!!" You yelled as you felt the pain in your leg.

"Y/N!" Spencer cried as she came running to you trying to help you up

"I'm ok." You protested as she helped you back to your feet.

"Like hell you are." Spencer retorted.

You noticed Spencer was holding you arm again and you mind briefly slipped back to the Dollhouse. On instinct you slipped your arm out of her grip.

But this time Spencer was ready and moved herself to she was blocking your path. "Y/N we have to talk. You've been avoiding me."

"I haven't" You lied.

"Yes you have." Spencer tried to hold back the tears. "And every time I try and touch you, you break away."

You tried to deny it but no words came. "Please Y/N talk to me. I love you and I don't know what happened down there but please talk to me." Spencer pleaded with tears streaming down her face.

"You don't remember?" You asked and she shook her head. "Spencer... the reason I had to go to surgery. The person who stabbed me was you."

This time Spencer recoiled hard in shock. She put her hands to her mouth in disbelief and started to back away.

"Wait Spencer!" You grabbed her wrist to stop her. "A let me into your room after we tried to escape. You were passed out and then you came at me. You were completely manic at the time. You didn't know it was me."

"I'm so sorry." Spencer cried.

"It wasn't your fault." You said as you gently took her hands in yours. "A set the entire thing up. A's the one to blame."

"I don't know how to get passed this." Spencer asked.

"We'll find a way." You said drawing her in for a hug. "Together."

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch.19)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (Wesker & William Bromance). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 19: The Devil You Know

It was your typical exam room found in the average medical clinic: a sink, weight scales, medical advertisements, an examination table, and a couple of chairs. A calendar depicting puppies and kittens hung on the wall with other drab decorations.

Ada sighed in boredom, one leg crossed over the other, her heel bouncing on the tiled floor. She had lost track of time of how long she'd been locked in here.

She was surprised earlier. The Colonel himself had tapped on her window, and, afterward, brought her here, the same clinic Roth and Bennett had retreated to. She didn't even get to bring her coffee. How rude.

Thinking back, Ada chided herself for not being more careful with Sergei. Apparently, her fake updates to keep him off track only worked for so long before he became wise to her. But she wasn't worried...yet.

Right now, Sergei was likely trying to make her lose her nerve. And, well, that wasn't going to happen.

If anything, she was more curious now. Sergei in cahoots with Roth and Bennett? They were threats to Umbrella. They had bought and sold crucial research to rival companies. There was more to this, that's for sure. Sergei was many things, but a traitor to Umbrella and Spencer wasn't one of them.

It was so obvious. Albert Wesker. There was nothing else it could be.

The door finally opened. Ada sat up straighter just as Sergei's large form came through the doorway, shutting the door behind him. She didn't like the twinkle in his eye, the curl of his lip, looking at her as though she was a cornered mouse, and he the triumphant cat.

Ada crossed her arms, honey-brown eyes challenging him, red lips quirking. "Let me guess, an incoming, boring monologue on why I'm here and how I'm in trouble? All ears, Colonel."

He remained standing, attempting to intimidate her. It didn't work. "I asked if this would be a conflict of interest for you, Ms. Wong, didn't I? And here you are, helping Wesker."

Ada covered her mouth with her palm to hide an apathetic yawn. "So? I looked into the allegations, and there's no evidence that Albert was behind any of this. None I could find, anyway. And then he approached me to help take out Roth, who is, last I checked, a threat to Umbrella, and has the stolen research in his possession currently. Yet, here you are playing buddy-buddy with him. Now that is a conflict of interest, Sergei."

"Mr. Roth and his associate are in the same boat as you, Ms. Wong, I assure you. They've come to the end of the line in their dealings, but I have one final purpose for them. You went against my orders, Lord Spencer's orders, and lied about it."

"That's quite the accusation, Colonel. But it will hold no bearing. Albert is just doing his job and so am I."

Honestly, now she was getting a little annoyed by all of this. What was Sergei trying to pull here?

Sergei chuckled. "Maybe not currently. But it will. I chose you specifically to look into Wesker, knowing you would go along with him."

Uh-oh. Ada suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

"Wesker is manipulating most of this. Stopping Mr. Roth to "save" the stolen research is just a ruse. Just like all his other dealings behind Umbrella's back. I've never had anything concrete to indict him, but now I will catch him in the act. Mr. Roth and Mr. Bennett are just the bait, don't you see?"

"Wow," Ada shook her head. "I think...I think you're just a little too into Albert? A little too obsessed? Look, I'm sorry he and William wouldn't let you be BFFs with them, play with their toys, or let you help them push other kids down on the playground, but come on? A bit much?"

Sergei glared at her, a single hand forming a mallet of a fist. "Then there is you, Ms. Wong. My own suspicions of you...working for someone else. Spying on Umbrella. Never enough proof to bring to Lord Spencer. But, if I catch Wesker in the act, then it will give me the jurisdiction to look further into you."

Oh boy. This is not good.

She was feeling the pressure a little bit now, but didn't show it. In fact, she gave the Colonel the most skeptical smile she could pass off as genuine. "I hate to burst your bubble, but with me not calling in updates to Albert, he'll know something is up, and he won't bite whatever you have on this ridiculous hook."

Sergei shrugged. "Maybe. More than likely, he'll think Mr. Roth captured you. And if he plans on any dealings with him against Umbrella's interests, he'll bite regardless. Besides, I have one last loose end that will help me wrap this all up by Christmas."

Shit...Claire!

Ada chose her words carefully. "She doesn't know anything outside of witnessing Albert kill someone. It's better to let him use her and dispose of her than you getting involved and risking exposing Umbrella."

"Is that why you didn't eliminate her after I asked you to?"

"Yes. And I'm sure Lord Spencer would agree with me."

"Perhaps he would," the Colonel acknowledged with a nod. "But it doesn't matter now. Henceforth, I am taking over this investigation. You are to remain in custody until it is resolved. If you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to worry about."

Oh, I've got plenty to hide…

"Don't I get a phone call?"

The Colonel snorted. "No. I am done with your tricks, Ms. Wong. I'll be back when this is all over."

This was bad. Very bad. Claire was in danger. Albert was in trouble. And Ada had no way to warn them. In the end, she would be in hot water too once all was said and done. She glared at Sergei's back as he gave her one last haughty sneer and left the room.

Ada closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. She swore she wouldn't put herself in this situation ever again, not since the Organization, not since Albert. Yet here she was, through no fault of her own, just unforeseen circumstances. No backdoors. Cornered and trapped. Worst of all, her fate hinged on the Devil himself. And the Devil was currently distracted by his new consort.

Oh, Claire…we're about to find out if you're everything Albert thinks you are…

She was definitely special to him. Ada only hoped she was special enough.

Claire hadn't felt this helpless since Wesker caught her after witnessing him murdering a man. No, since she was a child and was informed of her parents' accident! Her home, her safe haven, once believed impregnable, now lay invaded and violated by these intruders.

Despite hearing about Aaron Roth the most, she knew the least about him. Everything Wesker had been conspiring was to get to him, and yet, he looked the most harmless of them all. But she had learned quite early in all of this that no one was ever as they seemed.

Stephan Bennett, still squirming from a freshly broken nose and finger, was Roth's business partner. The animosity in his eyes and sheer violence toward her indicated he was still fuming from the humiliation at the hotel.

Then there was Sergei Vladmir, some kind of colonel for some kind of military, one associated with the Umbrella Corporation, although she wasn't sure how. He was easily one of the biggest men Claire had ever seen in her life. He was either here to kill her like Wesker claimed or arrest her. Either way, her day just got considerably worse.

Claire wasn't stupid. She made the connection in moments. The three men before her all shared one thing in common: They were enemies with Albert Wesker. And she had been helping him. That made her position in all of this quite obvious, unwilling or not.

Sergei's fake pleasantries still hung in the air, awaiting her answer. Claire may have stopped fighting physically, but her mind kept thinking. Plotting.

Though the Colonel addressed his injured companion, he never took his eyes off Claire. "Mr. Bennett, you didn't take my warning into consideration, and now you are paying the consequences. You've underestimated Ms. Redfield one too many times, haven't you?"

A broken arm may have been the worst thing he got from their last encounter, thanks to Wesker, but his face bore several cuts from Claire's well-aimed wine bottle. The beat-up asshole didn't say anything, lips drawn back in a snarl clutching his busted nose.

"You assholes do know this place is being monitored by my very own neighborhood watch detail, right?"

"They're currently switching out," Bennett growled. He looked like he was crying, but it was only because of the swelling. Claire was pleased to know his face would look even uglier after the swelling and bruising.

Her own head hurt from the attack, and she was certain she was bleeding from the same cut from the party. The same one Wesker had tended to at his house. It would have to wait though.

"There's an old saying from my mother country, Ms. Redfield," Sergei declared. "If you are afraid of the wolves, stay out of the forest. But you've never feared wolves, have you? You've ventured the dark forest that is life fearlessly ever since your parents met a tragic end. Until, not long ago, when you came face-to-face with the one wolf other wolves fear."

Claire tensed. He knew about her parents? Between that and knowing where she lived, there was no telling what else he knew about her. "What do you want from me?"

The Colonel held up his hand, hushing Bennett before he could add his own off-color suggestion. His friendly smile seemed contradictory to his intimidating form and scarred face. "Just your help, moya ledi."

Sergei motioned to the mercenary holding Claire, and he instantly let her go. Claire rubbed her limbs, shooting the man a glare. He didn't move away, ready to grab her again if she did anything reckless.

Claire looked between the three men, guarded, pissed, and a little daunted. "Help how?"

The three men were looking at her in different ways. Bennett's was pure hatred. Sergei's cordial front hinted at something much more perfidious. Roth, though, his quiet observance of her felt mostly of curiosity and that bothered her the most.

"This wolf...he's not feared for being the biggest or even the meanest. He's feared for his cunning. It makes him far more dangerous than an entire pack. He's sunk his teeth into you, hasn't he, Ms. Redfield? He's making you do things you don't want to do, and if you do not do them, you and your brother will be hurt...or worse, da?"

Claire didn't say anything, suddenly feeling a bit despondent now.

"It is my duty to protect civilians like you when it comes to wolves like Albert Wesker. For a long time now, I've tried to bring him down, but he is not an easy beast to outwit." Sergei waited, gauging her reaction, and continued. "Even these two lowlives aren't free from their consequences in this conspiracy. They will be locked up. But they have agreed to help me take down the Big Bad Wolf in exchange for a lighter punishment. Fortunately for you, Ms. Redfield, you're in a position where you can also help me. And if you help me capture Wesker, you and your brother will be safe, will be free. I give you my word. After all, you are only an innocent hostage in this situation."

She remained silent. Usually, when something sounded too good to be true...it was.

Sergei didn't break his respectful, amiable front. His deep blue eyes held a wicked gleam, his fake smile only shadowing a ruthless nature.

"I commend your fighting spirit, doing what's necessary to keep you and your brother alive. Your captor has killed many people, as you've seen. He will continue to do so unless you help me stop him once and for all."

When Claire still didn't say anything, Sergei frowned. "Did you know he and Birkin once had a mentor? James Marcus. He was a good man, an honorable man. Raised them like his own sons. They killed him in cold blood as recompense, after everything he did for them."

William had told her about Marcus before. He left out the details of how he had died though…She thought maybe it had been old age…silly her.

Her stomach churned. She hated that she was hurt by this news, even though she wasn't surprised Wesker and William would do such a thing.

"There was a girl much like you."

Claire whipped her head to Roth, heart skyrocketing. Roth acknowledged her surprised stare, but remained composed. "Anezka Muller was her name. She had an...intimate relationship with Wesker. The work she did could've helped hundreds of thousands. Wesker controlled her, just like he controls everyone. One day she just...vanished. Never to be seen or heard from again. Her work was left behind. No one knows what happened and no one ever will. He's a very dangerous man, Ms. Redfield. He can do this to you. He can do this to anyone. You'd be saving many lives helping us stop his reign."

It wasn't the first time she had heard about Wesker's former lover, but it was the first time she had heard her name. Claire wondered how much of it was true and how much of it they were bending to get her help. But did it honestly matter? It could be partially true or completely true, they still had a point. Wesker was dangerous and needed to be stopped.

"All I ask is for some information that will help us capture him. Something that would expose him. Does he have something else planned to use you for? Anything at all. It's a small exchange that could buy you your safety and freedom, Ms. Redfield. I cannot protect you if you will not help me," the Colonel coaxed.

This was it. Frozen, mind racing, Claire had to decide right now. She had to choose between two evils at the risk of everything.

If she chose Sergei, Wesker would be stopped. It was something she had wanted since she first got into this plight. Maybe he would keep his word and let her and Chris go free. It was the logical choice. It was the moral choice.

But why was it the harder choice?!

Her feelings for Wesker aside, she knew the risks. At this point, she knew Wesker well enough to know that he was always several steps ahead of everyone else. If she chose Sergei and Wesker still managed to outwit them all, he would undoubtedly kill her. But that wasn't what bothered her.

She initially couldn't believe it when it dawned on her, and it manifested as a mix of nausea and a strange affection she couldn't describe. She trusted Wesker more. His feelings for her were dangerous, toxic even. But it assured her that Wesker wouldn't let anything happen to her or Chris, even if it was out of selfishness.

Claire couldn't trust Sergei as far as she could throw him. It was so easy to see they were just tricking her into helping capture Wesker and then she would be taken out as a loose end. But she couldn't deny the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it could turn out okay.

In the end, it reminded her of how small of an ant she was in this giant spider web of conspiracy. Whatever Wesker was doing, whatever Sergei, Roth, and Bennett were involved in, whatever the Umbrella Corporation had to do with it, it was much bigger than she had previously thought.

"Well?"

Claire took a deep breath, a little shaky, but mind made up. "Okay…I-I want to help. It's just as you said. He controls me. He's blackmailing me to do things or he'll kill me and my brother. I fear for our lives. I've done everything he said to keep my brother safe and oblivious to this whole thing."

Her "scared, innocent college girl" act was reinforced by the real strain of this whole ordeal. If it was any other circumstances, she would've patted herself on the back. But she didn't overplay it, knowing they were too smart for that, instead, making it look as though Sergei's persuasion had worked.

Pleased yet guarded, Sergei dipped his head. "I assure you, I will stop him. Tell me all you know."

Her mind raced. Thinking. Stalling. Probably not the greatest plan, but she didn't have much to work with here.

"He doesn't tell me much. I saw him kill that guy and it's been nothing but a nightmare since then. I...stole some things for him. I don't know what they were."

"What does he have planned next for you?"

"I-I don't know, I swear. He said something about meeting with Roth. He has something that Wesker wants. I'm afraid he's going to use me as bait or something," she made up.

"Do you know where he plans this meeting?" Sergei asked, scrutinizing her.

Claire shook her head, rubbing her arms.

"Oh, this is a load of shit," Bennett hissed, letting go of his broken nose. The swelling had stopped the bleeding, and now he sounded like he had a bad cold. "She's in on it! She's just playing scared and innocent! I bet she's Wesker's squeeze! That's been the talk!"

Sergei and Roth glared at him. Sergei picked the smaller man up by his shirt with just one hand, lifting him as though he weighed only a few pounds. "It doesn't matter what you think. I will not -"

"Colonel!" Another mercenary with a heavy Russian accent appeared in the kitchen, having come from the back door like the others. "We have confirmation of Wesker's scout heading this way. ETA 5 minutes!"

Claire never thought she'd be so happy for Wesker's spy to actually spy on her!

Sergei growled in annoyance and dropped Bennett. He ordered them to get out. Bennett fixed his shirt, although there was no point from the blood stains caused by his nose. He gave Claire one last glower and stormed out, followed by the mercenary that had confined her earlier. Roth lingered, studying Claire closely, still curious, pondering something, almost as though he had something to say. After he left, only she and Sergei remained.

"If you come with me, we can finish our discussion and I will guarantee you and your brother's safety, Ms. Redfield."

His stare was harder now, his tone more serious. She wondered if Sergei's true purpose for this little "meet and greet" wasn't just to get her to rat out Wesker, but convince her to come with him under such a guise. When really, he'd dispose of her or blackmail her himself.

Claire didn't move an inch, staying calm. "Wouldn't be a good idea. I'm already running late to meet my brother for lunch. Wesker is expecting me. He keeps close tabs on me...as you can see. He'll know something's wrong if I don't show up."

The towering colonel's initial look of displeasure quickly shifted to a dark chuckle and a shake of his head. "You're a clever girl, aren't you? I understand your mistrust in me, but unfortunately, your time is running out and I am your only ally capable of saving you and your brother."

When she didn't answer, he sighed. "This isn't over, Ms. Redfield. I will be back. I highly recommend you keep this our little secret. After all…I have my men keeping a close eye on your brother, for his protection, of course. If Wesker were to find out of my involvement, well…bad things may happen."

You piece of shit!

Claire dropped her act in a single hard glare. One corner of his lips quirked smugly and he turned his back on her to leave. He paused just before the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at her one last time.

"I see what Wesker sees in you, Ms. Redfield. A tigress. And what does a tigress have to fear from forests and wolves?"

Then he was gone. Claire stood in the empty living room, reflecting over what just happened. There were no signs they had even been here now after all that, save for one small splotch of blood on the hardwood floor. Except…

Claire scooped up the folded piece of paper on the floor. It had fallen out of Bennett's pocket in their scuffle. She unfurled it, wondering what it could be and hoping it was something she could use. It looked to be a print out of an email.

Aaron Roth, I received an update from our trusted contact in Raccoon City regarding new research for purchase. More importantly, he has data on the new T-ALOS Project. This will not be handled by one of your agents, you must do the exchange in person. No excuses. I will be sending with you a new partner, an associate of ours from Sheena Island. He will have a copy of this message with his own orders. After all business is finalized, transportation out of the city will be arranged.

See you soon.

Christine Henry

Her brows furrowed. T-ALOS? What's that? Who's Christine Henry?

It only gave her more questions, despite all the information presented. Claire sighed, folding the paper and stuffing it in her pocket. She had a much bigger problem on her hands right now.

She cleaned up the blood and checked her head in the bathroom. Not good. She was bleeding. It would be more noticeable now. Claire cleaned and patched it as best as she could and was out the door to go meet Chris.

The drive to the Raccoon Police Department seemed torturously long. Claire needed a plan, like now, and racked her brain the entire way.

Her day no longer consisted of simply driving to her brother's workplace and picking him up for lunch in his own truck. Now she had to do something she didn't think she'd ever have to do. Funny how that seemed to be the trend lately.

Claire would have to find some way to talk to Wesker. In private. In the middle of public. That was quite risky. If caught, it could draw Chris's suspicion and further endanger them. Besides, after what happened at Wesker's house and how they parted when he dropped her off, Claire had no idea how Wesker would react to her. Her goal had been to piss him off and she accomplished that much.

Piss him off and be done with it, right? No more affair and maybe actually try and stop him, right? But here you are, choosing him instead of the fucking scary ass colonel!

Who knows. After what happened with Sergei, there was a chance Wesker would dispose of her because of the risks, whether he wanted to or not. Shitty choices in a shitty situation, and there was no other way to say it.

Claire had been so stressed from her encounter with Sergei, now that the adrenaline had died down, she was sure they had bruised a few ribs. She hid it as best as she could.

Next thing she knew as her brain frantically schemed, she was in front of the STARS office door. Claire drew in a deep, shaky breath, wiping her palms on her pants, ignoring the ache in her ribs. She felt a little sick but kept herself together. A quick glance at her wristwatch told her she was a little late. Hopefully Chris wasn't in a hurry to leave for lunch as she tried to find some way to get Wesker alone. Or at the very least give him some sort of message that Sergei was closing in.

That's if he wasn't locked away in his office or if he was even here in the first place…

Here goes nothing…

She grabbed the doorknob and stepped inside.

The first thing Claire noticed was the chatter. Not loud. Not overly serious. Mostly casual talk amongst the crew. Claire immediately glanced to her left. Wesker's office door was ajar but no one was inside.

Chris and Jill were at their computers, discussing something that involved an open folder between them, probably a case. Barry and Forest were near the armory looking over an MP5.

"Uh-oh, there's Trouble!" Barry announced just as Claire caught sight of Wesker.

He was sitting over at the communications console next to Richard. Except while Richard faced the panel, working with big headphones on, Wesker was turned towards the STARS desks, talking with Edward and Brad nearby.

Though he wore his sunglasses, they locked eyes immediately. She felt it. There wasn't much of a reaction from him from what she could tell. He continued his conversation while the rest of the team swarmed her.

"Claire! There you are! I thought maybe you went to lunch without me!" Her brother said.

He went to hug her but Forest squeezed in and spun her around in his arms. "Hey, there's my girl!" Pain shot through her ribs and she winced, biting her tongue.

Forest sat her down. "I know you ain't been avoiding me of all people, right? I mean, we're getting married one of these days."

"In your fucking dreams, Forest," Claire laughed, shoving him away playfully. It was all in good fun. She knew Forest was just teasing her. If anything, he thought of her as his little sister too, but enjoyed riling up Chris.

"Yeah, over my dead body, now scoot," Chris grumbled and shoved his friend aside to hug Claire.

"It's gonna happen. You, me, a beachside wedding. Honeymooning in Albuquerque. Like eleven kids."

Jill made the motion of pretending to gag and it made Claire snicker.

"Eleven now?" Claire shook her head.

"Well, we adopt Vickers and Frost because they're completely hopeless without parental supervision."

"Hey!" Brad whined.

Edward, grinning, looked lost. "Why Albuquerque?"

"I have no idea, for the BBQ, maybe? Sounds like a good spot. Don't you think so, baby?"

"You can do better, Claire," Barry joined, smacking Forest upside the head.

"Way better," Jill added.

Before Claire could banter back, Chris grabbed her arm, suddenly concerned. "Hey, what happened to your head?"

Shit. Right…Focus, Claire!

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Bumped my head while babysitting. They have weird cabinets."

Seriously? That's all you could come up with?

Her brain had been more focused on a way to get Wesker alone…

Chris didn't look convinced but reluctantly let it go with a short nod. He returned to his desk and sat down. "Just let me finish up this paperwork and we can head out."

"Okay," she mumbled, and passed a side glance to Wesker.

For whatever reason, he looked even more displeased than when she first walked into the office. Great. This was going to be a disaster.

Forest gently clapped her arm, concern replacing his earlier playfulness, and went back to work with Barry. Claire pulled up a chair near Jill's desk, her mind going a million miles a minute on how she was going to do this. She risked another side glance to Wesker. He had resumed his discussion with Brad and Edward, something to do with the STARS helicopters, Brad taking notes diligently, until Richard removed one headphone and got his attention.

She didn't have much time. She had to get Wesker alone. The problem was there was no reason for them to interact, alone especially, despite her brazenness confronting him about Chris's hours when they first met. If spotted, it would only draw unwanted attention.

If only it could've been as simple as asking him to step out for a word. But no, never was she that lucky.

Claire watched Jill typing on her computer and then it hit her! Please work!

"So, um, Jill. You play classical music on piano, right?"

"Sure, all kinds."

Yes!

This was it. Claire took a deep breath. She was about to bet her life and her brother's life that her obsessed lover would have his eyes and ears on her discreetly, like at the Christmas party. Because this was her only shot.

"I had this bullshit report on Rachmaninoff last semester. I could've really used your help!"

Jill looked away from her monitor with a soft smile. "Ah, melodicism. There's something beautiful about it."

Chris chuckled beside her. The guys jabbed at each other, watching Jill come out of badass mode long enough to remind them of her softer side.

"All I ever knew about classical music came from Bugs Bunny," Forest said behind them.

Edward shook his head. "That doesn't surprise me!"

Brad grimaced. "Dude, that's not something to brag about."

"In all fairness, at least cartoons were a great gateway to the classics," Jill agreed. "Beethoven's 7th, Ride of the Valkyries, Sonata quasi una Fantasia. Great stuff." The way she said it was like she tasted every syllable.

Seizing upon the excitement of the group, Claire leaned into her story even more, praying that she was right about the obsession of the quiet STARS Captain as he had his head slightly cocked listening to Richard. "Yeah, I was never really into too much of that, but something about Sergei Rachmaninoff really captured me. Really tested what I know about everything, uh, about classics, that is..."

She braved another look. He was watching her. Surely he had heard and read between the lines? But there was no reaction, none she could tell. And she quite honestly didn't know where else to go from here.

"Oh, I'm sure," Jill answered, snapping Claire back to reality. "Rachmaninoff was one of the best pianists of all time. Next time, I'd be happy to help."

"Thanks, Jill."

"Wait, aren't you majoring in sociology? Or was it engineering? What does classical music have to do with either of those?" Forest asked.

Claire panicked a little underneath, but kept calm. "It was to examine the effects of music on social life in the 20th century or some bullshit."

"Okay, well," Chris said as he got out of his chair and pulled on his coat. "I'm ready if you are, Sis."

No!

Claire glanced at Wesker again. "Um, I need to use the restroom first!"

Come on, Wesker!

Chris sighed. "Fine, I have to swing by the library first anyway. Give me the keys and I'll warm up the truck. Don't take forever, okay?"

"I won't!"

All Wesker did was roll his neck. Dammit, work with me here! Claire frantically tried to think of something as she dug for the keys, only for the STARS Captain to nonchalantly get up and stroll right out of the office without saying a word. Richard looked confused for a moment then shrugged and went back to work.

Claire said goodbye to Jill, Barry, and the others and stepped out with Chris. He went left for the library and she went right towards the showers, restrooms, and stairs.

Claire beelined for the upstairs restrooms across from the locker room near the vending machines, although she wasn't sure what good it would do. She didn't even know where Wesker went. For all she knew, he went to lunch himself. Still, she needed a moment to compose herself before joining Chris.

She only passed one officer on her way to the restrooms, and he hardly glanced at her. Claire turned the corner, saw the door, and as she closed in to grab the handle, she was seized from behind and yanked through another door.

Claire swung, still on edge from what had happened at home. Her fist, aimed for her attacker's face, connected with a shielding forearm instead. It was Wesker! She let out a giant breath of relief. He had pulled her into a small storage room and bolted the door behind them.

Their eyes locked once again, although now he wasn't wearing shades. For a long moment, it was quiet, tense, even a little awkward. There were obviously mixed feelings between them currently, but that wasn't what mattered now. She had succeeded in getting him alone. And now she had to follow through with the rest.

"What. Happened?" Wesker demanded.

He was probably the angriest she had seen him yet, considering his quite impressive talent of being able to keep cool and calm no matter the pressure. Despite this, Claire wasn't afraid. It wasn't directed at her, she knew that somehow.

All the frustration and dread she had felt cornered in her own home quickly resurfaced, and it was like her lungs were full of hot air. She glared at him. After all, wasn't it all his fault? "They attacked me. In my own fucking home! Roth and Bennett. Broke that asshole Bennett's nose and finger but Sergei was there. With them! He wanted to know what I knew about you. About this whole damn thing! Put on a whole act and speech that he was there to help me and save me from you."

"And what did you tell him?" His tone was cold, barely repressing his anger. Anger that had boiled up even more after her story.

Of course that was all he was worried about! Claire wanted to unload on him, wanted to strangle him. Despite this being uncharted territory with Wesker, despite not knowing what this new behavior could lead him to do, she still held her ground.

Her tongue got the better of her though. "Oh, you know. I just gave him vague answers like you do with me, dear heart! Then stalled until your spy showed up and they bailed. But not without Sergei warning he'd be back and low-key threatening Chris's life if I spoke any of it to you!"

Claire groaned in frustration, kicking a nearby crate full of old museum decorations. She put her hands to her face, sickened. Wesker wasn't the only one to blame here. She did this, too. She did this to Chris…by getting intimately involved with the man in front of her.

A strong grip constricted her arm and jerked her forward. Was this it? Was Wesker going to kill her now that she had become a liability? She could only imagine how he would do it. A quick snap of her slim neck. Perhaps he would choke her. He was sadistic like that.

His hand brushed her hair, right near the gash. Claire didn't realize how tense she was until she relaxed in his arms a little as he checked the cut over.

"Make sure you clean and cover this. I'm surprised they were bold enough to hit you in the head if they were aiming for subtlety."

Claire looked at him. He was still mad, but it was completely buried now. And still, it wasn't directed at her. Was she finally getting better at reading him?

"Actually, I, um, used my head to break Bennett's nose."

Wesker sighed. "Of course you did."

Then she felt his hand skim under her shirt and lift it up, exposing her skin. Claire broke away from him, yanking her shirt back down. She glared at him, although the slight cock of his head and the odd look on his face that could only be concern left her a little confused. It didn't last long though before a smirk curled on his lips.

He closed in again. "Why darling, you think I'd take you in a dusty old storage room? I have standards. You should know that by now."

Claire blushed but didn't bite her tongue. "Standards?! Don't make me laugh!"

He backed her into a wall. "Honestly dear heart, I'd rather make you scream. And you can take that in any context as you'd like." When she couldn't answer, face burning, he motioned to her shirt. "Now let me see it."

Claire bit her tongue this time and raised her shirt. She looked herself. There was slight marbling on her ribs from bruises. She had hidden the pain quite well, not even Chris had noticed. Wesker really was that in tune with her. Her body, anyway…Perhaps her mind, too. But she wasn't sure Wesker knew how to be in tune with someone's heart.

She pulled her shirt down. It was nothing. She'd had way worse. Bennett got the worst of it. She made sure of that!

Wesker caressed her side, and that combined with the ferocity in his steel blue eyes left her a little weak in the knees.

"You said you broke his nose and a finger?" he whispered in her ear. "An admirable start, seeing as I will be breaking every single bone in his body."

"And what about Sergei and Roth?" Claire asked, quickly changing the subject to keep the lightning in her stomach from getting out of control.

Wesker pondered it. "They'll require a different approach. More finesse. Strategy. And thanks to your little tip-off, I can prepare accordingly." He peered at her thoughtfully. "You never cease to impress me, dear heart. Through all of this. That act you cooked up on the spot with Jill to surreptitiously gain my attention…exemplary. I am curious, however. You had your chance to extirpate me. I miscalculated the extent of Sergei's involvement in this, an oversight I will not repeat going forward. He could've been your way out. Tell me, why didn't you take it?"

Claire was quiet for a long moment. "I admit it was tempting, but I knew he was full of shit, and would've disposed of us afterward." No, that wasn't quite it. "I…trust you more…And maybe…I was hoping you'd be a man of your word…at least with me." After another tense, silent moment, she sighed. "You're right. You are the lesser of two evils."

He was the devil she knew. And yet she knew him so little.

She pulled out the note Bennett dropped. She hesitated, but soon offered it out to him. Wesker slowly took it, their fingers brushing. Claire held her breath as the corrupt STARS Captain read over the note.

His wolfish smirk validated that Sergei was telling the truth on one thing, at least.

Wesker folded the note and slipped it into his vest pocket, and she soon realized the hold he had on her had tightened even more. "Let me tell you something, Claire. I don't believe in good or evil. It's all subjective. However, I am what the world deems evil. I may seem like the lesser evil in short sight. But in the grand scheme of things, I will always be the greater evil." He stroked her hair. It roiled many mixed feelings within her. "Roth and Bennett are pawns on a chessboard, just like nearly everyone else to me. Sergei is an obstacle, a threat. You might've just given me an opening for dominion over him. And for that, I thank you."

Wait, what? Did she…Did she just hear right? Did Albert Wesker just seriously tell her thank you?! She had no idea how to react to that. She stared at him in disbelief, but quickly shook it off and glared at him.

"Nice to hear that you thank your pawns sometimes." She said it with bite. After all, his declaration had her second guessing if she had made the right choice siding with him over Sergei.

"You're no pawn," he said matter-of-factly. "You were in the beginning…nevertheless the right pawn can become a queen."

"Is that what I am to you?" she boldly asked.

Claire could tell she caught him off guard a little, and he debated whether to express his true feelings on the matter or not.

"...Perhaps."

She wasn't surprised by his answer…or lack thereof. She sighed, tired, aggravated. She was ready to leave. "Well, perhaps, I should get back to Chris…before he thinks something happened."

Wesker nodded but didn't move out of her way. "I need you to do one thing if you wish to keep Chris safe until I've dealt with Sergei and Roth."

"What?"

"Tell him you might have to babysit one last time…for a few hours."

Claire didn't like the sound of that, or the weight the words carried. Did Wesker plan on using her once more?

"Okay…"

She had no choice. This was all for Chris and his safety…She was ready for this to be over. But now she wondered if it would ever truly end…

Wesker stepped aside. Claire took two steps towards the door. Just two, before it hit her, probably from the uncertainty still swimming in her chest. She took a deep breath, looking Wesker in the eye. "Sergei and Roth told me about James Marcus. They told me about Anezka Muller, too."

He flinched. Wesker flinched. She almost couldn't continue what she wanted to say. "Did you really kill the man that raised you like a son? Did you really make Anezka disappear? Am I next?"

He had threatened it in the beginning…

"Anna left me," he snarled. "I did nothing to her." Well, this was different, not the usual detachment he normally displayed when talking about his past at all. This was anger. Yet, not just anger. No, there was also a deep bitterness and resentment here. If there were any leftover feelings, Claire sure couldn't sense them. She wondered what really happened.

Wesker calmed himself, swallowing his irritation. "I did kill Marcus. I made sure he bled out as slowly as possible. William and I watched him die. I'm sure they failed to mention what atrocities that man put us through. Failed to mention that Anezka had full control of her decision to leave. They said just enough to try and persuade you to their side."

We went through absolute hell together. William had told her just days ago.

She was grateful for his honesty, no matter how sour it was. And yet, it only enforced her feelings that Wesker was a man-made monster, not a naturally born one.

Claire had so many conflicted emotions rampaging within her, she didn't even know how to respond. She settled with not speaking at all, only nodding. She then slipped by him and went for the door.

When her hand fell on the handle, she was surprised to see his hand lay over hers, preventing her from opening the door.

"You were right."

What the hell? First he thanks me, now this? Dear, diary! She stared at him, and then slowly regained her composure. "...About what?"

She had a fairly certain idea of what it was…she just wanted to hear him admit it.

Wesker glared at her. In different circumstances, she might've thought it was cute. He obviously was displeased about having to explain himself.

"Don't play dumb, dear heart. It's unbecoming of you."

She glared right back, even if she felt she had to crane her neck. "Not playing dumb. I just want to hear you say it."

He reacted exactly like she thought he would once openly challenged. He smirked, the quick clench of one fist the only giveaway of his initial annoyance. His hand left hers, pressing firmly on the door as if to entrap her in the overly large closest and keep her from escaping him. Claire prayed no one passing by in the hallway outside could hear them…

"In the car," he elaborated.

Claire nodded confidently. "About you complicating this. I know I was right. I'm glad you finally admitted it."

Wesker chuckled in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck and arms stand straight up. "Careful, my dear," he warned. "I can uncomplicate matters just as easily. Be grateful I allowed such a fault solely for you."

He just threatened her and called her special to him in the same answer. What a weird fucking day.

Wesker removed his hand from the door. "Chris is waiting. You better catch up…before I decide to lower my standards for the day."

Claire couldn't stop a lopsided smile. There was a type of playfulness that Wesker reserved solely for her that was both flirtatious and witty. She only now realized how much she actually enjoyed it…She left quickly and quietly…before she lowered her standards as well.

After Claire left, Wesker returned to the STARS headquarters and locked himself in his office, completely ignoring a question that Vickers had asked as soon as he stepped through the door. Did he slam the door in the Alpha pilot's face? He wasn't sure, nor did he care. His mind was too busy circulating more important matters.

His willpower strained over the fury seething beneath his skin. With fists clenched, jaw ticking, he thought over what Claire had informed him.

Sergei Vladmir.

Ada was supposed to keep him at bay, yet Wesker had underestimated the Colonel's wits. Ada's disappearance made sense now. And thanks to Claire's warning, he could easily see what Sergei was after: A short alliance with Roth solely for the purpose of setting Wesker up. To the Colonel, Roth was the smaller fish. And on that, at least, they could agree.

Wesker considered how much Sergei knew at this point. Wesker may have truly been doing his job killing Crawford and Finley to contain the research breach, but it wasn't without his own motives. He had gained control of Crawford's main contact for information. It was only after Finley sold the stolen research to Aaron Roth that Wesker decided to further manipulate the circumstances to his advantage. All to finally gain control over Roth and his expansive network. Bard, Lowery, and Mueller were only bonuses in this affair.

His true motives were being kept even from William. His partner was under the impression that their goal was to take out Roth and retrieve the stolen research, part of which contained information on William's prized G-Virus. Even Ada knew more than he did at this stage.

Sergei didn't find out anything from Ada. It was in Wesker and Ada's best interests that they looked out for each other to preserve themselves. Their relationship may have been complicated but their alliance wasn't.

He also didn't pull anything from Claire. She had her chance to give Sergei what he needed to get the upper hand and she didn't. She impeded, she lied, she fought. He would never admit it, but he was grateful to her.

He was also indebted to her for what she was able to give him. The advantage over Sergei and the means to emerge with all the spoils…including her.

Sergei didn't have enough to pin this all on him. That's why he was using Roth and remaining in the shadows, waiting for Wesker to be caught in the act. He might've succeeded too…had it not been for Claire.

He would surely return the favor. Those who had touched her, harmed her, and threatened her would pay dearly. Sergei and Roth would be punished. Bennett would suffer.

Wesker sat down in his chair, scowling, disregarding the cluttered paperwork on his desk, and the STARS logo screensaver on his monitor. There was a bright sticky pad note on a file in Jill's distinct handwriting. "Don't be a Grinch this year, Captain! :P Christmas Party at Barry's house this weekend!"

He withdrew the folded printout and peered at it thoughtfully.

Unfortunately, he had no choice but to gamble Claire. Sergei would likely take her since she didn't fall for his act, and Wesker would have no choice but to let him. He could've warned her, but if she was prepared, the Colonel would likely know they had spoken. Better for her to think he could pull her for one last mission. Meanwhile, the babysitting ruse would keep Chris from nosing about.

The likelihood of Sergei harming Claire was slim. Not until he had won, anyway. But unbeknownst to the Colonel, he would fall just short of conquest. Conquest that would be purloined by Wesker.

Until then, he now had the means and the time to get everything set up, all thanks to Claire's clever warning and the powerful little gift she had given him. A predatory smile surfaced on his lips as he idly rubbed the email printout between his fingers. All he had to do was make a few phone calls…

Despite the anger that still ran through his blood like an electric current, he also felt the calm before the kill, the thrill of supremacy and certain victory. The prize was subjugation, his favorite prize of all.

It had happened so fast, Claire hardly had time to retaliate. Now a musty bag was over her head and her wrists were bound tightly behind her. She didn't blame her captors for taking that precaution after what had happened. Though they were professionals that had swooped in out of nowhere, it didn't prevent her from stabbing one asshole in the ribs when he grabbed her by surprise. She kicked his buddy in the face real hard before the bag was slung over her head, too. She might've beat her own personal record of breaking assholes' noses in a single day.

A convincing threat that her brother would meet an "accident" if she didn't cooperate told her exactly who was behind this. She had no choice but to let them stuff her in a vehicle, a cargo van was her guess.

So now she was being driven somewhere. There were at least three of them, not including whoever was driving the vehicle. The one she had stabbed groaned nearby, and another mentioned they couldn't pull the knife out without him bleeding to death.

Claire remained calm. She had no idea where she was being taken, but she knew exactly who she was being taken to. To put it mildly, her day had been total shit.

She didn't even get to fully enjoy her lunch date with Chris. He got called in on an emergency and had to take the truck. Claire finished her meal alone, walked to the Clock Tower Plaza to look at the lights and Christmas tree, and took some time to think while watching the river on the bridge. She hailed a cab afterward for home. That's when she was jumped.

Sergei did say he would be back, but Claire had somehow hoped it had been a bluff. Thinking about it, she couldn't help but wonder if Wesker knew this would happen. Perhaps that's why he had her tell Chris another babysitting lie. Or maybe he had a plan that involved her and now she wouldn't be around. There was no way to know for sure, but her gut feeling was on the former. Wesker might've just wagered her like one of his chess pieces.

Maybe she was just a pawn after all. Casual players tended not to risk their queens. Then again, Wesker was a Grandmaster of the game. And Grandmasters had been known to make such a sacrifice to secure a checkmate. So how could she be certain either way?

The van stopped. The ignition was cut. Then the back doors were pulled open, allowing some light to filter through the threads of the bag. Cold air seeped inside as one mercenary asked her to stand.

I guess none of it matters now. It was the end of the road for her…

She was taken from the van into a building. Claire listened for any clues, anything that could give her an idea where she was since she couldn't see or smell. But that all soon changed when the bag was suddenly plucked from her head.

Claire took a deep breath of fresh air, looking around. She didn't know if it was from all the movies she had watched, but she was expecting some sort of dark, questionable warehouse. That's not where she was, though. Going by the architecture and set up, she was certain it was some kind of medical center, or the back rooms of one anyway, particularly an employee lounge. That was confusing in itself. Even more confusing was the fact that it was in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday and there were no employees. Somehow, she felt it being Christmas Eve had nothing to do with it.

When her eyes fell on the familiar towering figure in the room, it no longer mattered. Claire was presented to Sergei like a captured prize. Another mercenary approached the Colonel and they had a short, quiet exchange.

Bennett was off to the side, sitting on a couch, rubbing his arm cast. His hateful glare was unwavering, but Claire could only smile to herself from his miserable form. His face was bruised and cut, a large bandage was taped over his nose. Roth soon joined them, entering the lounge through a different doorway than Claire. He joined Bennett's side. She barely noticed his troubled countenance towards his partner and Sergei before he composed himself and fixed his gaze on her. It was his same interested, curious stare from before, only now it seemed more intense.

"It seems even I have underestimated you, Ms. Redfield," Sergei admitted after the mercenary stepped away.

"I only defended myself," Claire growled. "They got what was coming."

He snorted. "I'm not talking about that."

Claire didn't like the sound of that. "I have no idea what you're talking about then."

Sergei scowled. "I gave you a chance, Ms. Redfield. A chance to free yourself from your captor. I knew you were helping him for some ridiculous hope that he would actually let you go, but, after a little digging, I've learned you are in bed with him…and I do not mean that figuratively."

She was going to be sick. She opened her mouth to argue, to explain herself, but there was nothing she could say. She couldn't claim he had forced her, that wasn't Wesker's style. He took gratification in the craft of seduction as Claire knew all too well.

She didn't yield to them. "So? That doesn't mean I'm helping him. I still want out of this."

"You're helping him with something, alright," Bennett taunted. He was lucky she was being restrained.

"Enough, Stephan," Roth warned.

"Why? The bitch is nothing but trouble. How do we know she hasn't warned Wesker already?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Claire snapped. "How the hell am I gonna warn him in the middle of the fucking police station when I'm going to lunch with my brother?"

Sergei approached Claire, stopping just in front of her, the closest she had ever been to him. "A valid point, and perhaps you are being honest. However, I do feel it is in my best interest to keep you detained until I have resolved this matter. Do not worry, Ms. Redfield, you'll be safe and secure. Mr. Roth will be chaperoning you from here. I highly suggest you do as he says, for your brother's sake."

Shit! This was going south in a hurry. Claire glared at him, not intimidated. "No more good cop act, huh?"

Sergei shrugged, faintly smirking. "You were too clever for that. Not all is lost, however. After I have settled this, we can discuss your fate. Your options depend on your compliance."

The mercenaries grabbed her arms, preparing to haul her away. "Let me go, you fuckers!"

She considered reminding Sergei that if anything happened to her, Wesker would know something was wrong, and so would Chris for that matter. But, why waste her breath? Sergei's mind was made up. His intentions were quite clear. Claire was in deep trouble. There was a great possibility she would never see Chris again, and knowing that destroyed her.

"It's nothing personal, Ms. Redfield. Just precautions because of the true nature of your relationship with Albert Wesker. Though, really, I'm doing you a favor." Sergei turned to leave, but stopped short, passing her a patronizing frown. "It's okay to befriend the wolf so long as you keep your axe ready. The wolf can be a great lover…until he grows hungry."

[absinthe-and-abstinence]

An Unhealthy Obsession: Chapter Twenty Three

Dancing on the Alter

Hey everyone! Thanks for hanging in there - I know I don't have a clear-cut schedule of when chapters get released but I appreciate you all reading and loving it nonetheless. You all have been a great audience and I love writing for you <3. Enjoy, and thank you all again.

Previous Chapter | Master List

“Oh my god, you’re so immature. How are old are you, ten?”

“I’m ten inches into your mom.”

Prentiss had the grueling task of trying to question you today, and you weren’t going to stop being annoying for anyone. Anyone besides Agent Hotchner, anyway. The team had gotten used to your antics more at this point, and stopped taking what you said so seriously.

“You used cough syrup to drug Agent Reid, so it wouldn’t be addictive?” she continued her questioning, ignoring your previous comment.

You nodded and added on: “That, and it was cheap and easy to find too. You’d be surprised what you can find out there.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head, “and do you know what’s in cough syrup that gives it the drug effect?”

You shrugged, and she continued.

“Codeine. Which is a highly addictive substance. People have gotten seizures from drinking too much, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you replied sheepishly.

At the beginning of interrogation, Morgan had said he couldn’t tell if you were insane or a genius. Over the course of your containment, they learned there was a third option; you were just really dumb.

“I have no idea how Agent Reid put up with you for so long.”

You licked your lips and smiled, getting back to what you were good at – comebacks.

“Well,” you began, “Agent Prentiss, I’m not very smart and he’s the definition of smart. We complete each other,” and you smiled.

She rolled her eyes.

“Right, if that’s what you call it.”

“Any updates on him, by the way?” You shifted your tone and sat back up. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Prentiss muttered through her teeth, “I swear you only get serious when it comes to him. I’ll make you another deal, answer three questions of mine seriously and I’ll let you in on what he’s doing.”

It was the same deal JJ offered you yesterday, the deal Morgan offered you the day before, and the deals the rest of the team had offered you for days. But they knew you wouldn’t refuse, and it was the fastest and easiest way to get information out of you.

“Alright,” you sighed.

Agent Prentiss began to speak, but then closed her mouth and put her finger up to her ear. Confused, you tilted your head and leaned in, trying to see if you could hear anything they were saying.

“Right,” she replied to whomever she was speaking to.

She put her hand down and clasped her hands on the table.

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be leaving you. There’s another member of the team that needs to speak with you.”

Agent Prentiss began to stand up to leave the interrogation room, and you immediately bombarded her with your curiosity.

“Who is it? Is it Morgan? Hotchner? What’s it about?”

Her grin sent shivers down your spine, and she teased that “it’s someone you haven’t met yet.”

She left the room, and you were left alone with that tantalizing hint. Who hadn’t you met? You toyed with Agent Morgan, tormented Agent Jarreau, teased Agent Prentiss, and stood head-to-toe with Agent Hotchner. Obviously, you knew Spencer, but there was no way they’d let him interview you. You kept mulling it over in your mind, wondering if there was a side character you had missed when heavy footsteps entered the room.

“So, you’re the one everyone’s been talking about.”

You were shocked to find someone you had forgotten about completely standing over you with a cardboard box in his hands.

“Agent Rossi. Of course.”

He smirked.

“You recognize me?”

You had to find some excuse to explain why you knew him.

“You’ve written a lot of books,” you lied, deciding it sounded reasonable enough.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he explained, circling down to the chair in front of you, placing the box on the floor. “You’re a curious little criminal, aren’t ’cha? That, and I heard you’re a bit of a penile.”

Penile? You’ve never heard that before as an insult, but it worked.

“What’s in the box?”

Agent Rossi scoffed.

“They weren’t kidding. Fortunately, that’s what I came in here to talk with you about.”

He leaned over into the box and pulled out what looked like a burnt and crispy brick.

“We found about fifteen of these in your movie collection when we were cleaning out your home. Nothing else around them was burnt.”

You held out your hand to inspect it, puzzled and surprised. What could have been burnt in your collection? As you rubbed your hand over the top of this…thing, you wondered if they found any of your movies or shows from the future. You would’ve had a hard time explaining why you owned things made after 2009.

You turned the brick over in your hand and as you did, you realized what this object was, and decided that this would have been really hard to explain.

Only a few words were visible on the back, “bureau,” “profiler,” “Matthew,” and “Gubler.” Putting them together, with the fact there were fifteen of these bricks, you understood this was the series collection of Criminal Minds itself. Not only that, Rossi had held it in his hands and without knowing what it was.

“Probably just a collection of indie movies I owned,” you answered, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. “I don’t seem to recognize it but maybe it was pirated.”

You handed the case back to Rossi, feeling unnerved as he grabbed the series he existed in, and he put it back in the bin.

“Right, because a lot of pirated indie disks burn up their entire case, and nothing else around them.”

“I seriously have no idea how they got all burnt up and black like that,” you replied truthfully.

He stared at you for a second, and you stared back.

“Was there something on them you didn’t want us to see?” he asked.

He wasn’t necessarily wrong, per se. You knew he meant related to the case, as if you were trying to burn up evidence. But you couldn’t imagine the fear and trauma that watching yourself live out your life on a fictional show would do to someone; how would you feel knowing your life was a lie, or that people had been recording you in your most private moments. You took the former approach.

“I will cross my heart on it,” you stated while doing said action, “that those cases did not have any evidence. Besides, you don’t need them to charge me – right? I mean,” you shrugged, “you already caught me in the act of it.”

“Most people we catch don’t outright say they’re guilty.”

“Yes,” you continued, “but most the people you catch red-handed don’t come out without a bullet wound. I’d rather be in prison and alive - if you catch my drift.”

“Touché.”

You two sat there for a bit, analyzing one another. Unfortunately, you weren’t the profiler in the room. You decided to shift topics.

“Anything else you want to ask me?”

“Yeah, actually,” he responded. “One more thing – why Spencer?”

You smiled at the fact he said: “Spencer,” instead of “Agent Reid” like everyone else.

“I’ve liked him for a long time,” you answered, “he’s smart – of course – but he’s kind, and considerate, funny, charming, attractive, and he’s a very genuine person.”

He held up his hand to pause you.

“You think he’s funny? Now I know you must be lying to me.”

You laughed.

“It’s a niche humor, but he has his moments.”

He smirked and scratched his head.

“Right.”

Agent Rossi got out of his seat and lifted the box from the floor.

“I know you usually get a treat of updates on the guy,” he stated, “but I’m not going to give you that. You can just worry about yourself right now.”

“What I’d worry about,” you joked, “is the fact you lifted with your back and not your legs. You’re going to kill your back that way.”

He began to leave the room, having a guard hold open the door for him.

“I think this job’ll kill me before my back ever does. See ya.”

The guard motioned you to come towards them, and you followed. You two left the room and went down your usual corridor. You replayed your time with Rossi over in your head while walking. He seemed very casual with you, not angry or irritated. You didn’t provoke him either, but you didn’t feel like you had to.

That was probably the smoothest interrogation you went through.

As you walked down the hallway, you ran into Madeline.

“Hey, buddy. I’ll be taking Y/N for now. She’s needed in another spot right now.”

The guard you were currently with began to argue.

“But they said to bring –”

“-- I just got the call,” she interrupted holding out her walkie-talkie. “One of the agents needs her for questioning in a different part of the facility.”

Questioning? But you just got out of questioning! And why in another part of the building?

“You’re the boss,” the guard grumbled, and traded places with Madeline. They walked off in the direction you two came from, and Madeline continued walking with you. She turned you down a different hallway you usually went into, and another.

“Who is it? Why do they need me in another room?”

Madeline remained stone-faced but answered you.

“There’s a material witness they need you to speak with.”

Material witness? Who could’ve been a witness?

Actually, thinking about it now, it could be a great deal of people. It could be Matt who called the police at the club. Damian was also there and could point you up in a lineup. Any of the taxi drivers, the guy from the video shop…there were too many options.

She stopped in front of a small door on the side of the hallway.

“This is the room.”

You looked at the door, then back at her.

“This says ‘broom closet’ on it.”

“I’m aware,” she replied as she opened the door and shoved you in.

The door shut behind you and you shook your head, trying to make sense of what was happening. You tried the doorknob, but it felt locked. You were stuck in here for a while, at least.

“You look terrible, by the way.”

You turned around.

“Oh my god.”

In this little claustrophobic closet was Spencer, standing in front of you. He practically pounced on you and your lips touched one another’s in a flurry.

His hands wrapped around your head. You grabbed his arms and pulled out of the embrace.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed.

“I passed the psych evaluation this morning, and I’m good to go.” Spencer grinned, pulling you into a hug. “I came here as soon as I could and I had to see you.”

You hugged back, a mix of emotions.

“How did no one catch you? If they find out I’m seeing you…”

“She’s watching out,” Spencer replied, alluding to Madeline outside, “I paid her to. They won’t find out.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you again.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered into your mouth. He slammed you up against the wall of the closet, pushing his body up against yours. You met his lips with yours, and you melted into him. His touch, his embrace, his voice – it felt intoxicating to be with again. You couldn’t believe he had sought you out after getting cleared, and especially not as he moved his hands down to your waist.

You put one of your hands around his neck, and the other down to his waist as well. Your tongues meeting together and the warmness of this small space made you drown in the space of him.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to ever see you again,” you confessed as you wrapped your leg around his.

He moved one of his hands down to grab your thigh that wrapped around him.

“Why’s that?”

You moved your mouth down to his neck, kissing it feverishly, drunk in his scent.

“They’ll be moving me to prison soon after they’re done with me. Who knows if I’ll ever get out.” You grabbed his hand with yours and brought it back to your waist. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

He pushed you back, his face puzzled.

“But I’m good. I’m free, I’m okay – I got a clean bill of health. Why would they send you to prison?”

You lifted your hand up to his cheek and held it gently.

“I still abducted and kidnapped a federal agent, Spence. That’s a federal offense, not to mention the fact I seem to have given you a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

His eyes moved frantically across you and your face. You moved your thumb back and forth on his cheek with a sad smile.

“Is that what they told you? Is that what they said about me?”

“Spence,” you brought up your other hand and brought his head down to meet you at eye level. “You should’ve been out there solving cases and catching killers. I held you captive and kept you from your life. You shouldn’t like me like this – I’m not good for you.”

He shook his head, getting out of your embrace.

“I don’t care that it’s not healthy, or usual, or – whatever. I haven’t felt this way for a person in a long time, and I don’t want to let that feeling go this time.”

He grabbed both of your wrists.

“This isn’t Stockholm or some kind of fawn response. This is real.”

He kissed your forehead, then paused. He held up a finger to your lips to keep you from talking, and moments later you heard the marching of feet on the other side of the door down the hallway. You two paused like deer in the headlights until their walking had passed.

“Spencer, regardless of if I think that or not, the team’s not going to believe it.”

He moved his hand down to your chin and stroked it with his thumb.

“You don’t think that…do you?”

You gave him a kiss on the lips, a gentle one.

“I’d like to think otherwise. But it won’t matter when I’m locked up anyway.”

His entire demeanor seemed to shrink. You pulled him into your body again, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“Let’s enjoy each other, one last time.”

You grabbed his head and brought his lips to yours. You kissed him and he hesitated, but gave in. Your mouths met one another and blended into you. He pushed you back up again against the wall, and you wrapped both your legs around his waist. He gripped the bottom of your thighs and hung onto the legs of your jumpsuit. You continued to make out with him as you ran one of your hands through his hair, and lifted up his shirt with the other.

Being with Spencer and dragging your hands across his chest felt like dancing as the world was ending. Although your punishment would be soon and you’d be isolated for years, right now you feasted yourself on the body of Spencer as you switched and leaned him against the wall.

You hadn’t really understood the term Last Supper until you were here, making love with Spencer Reid in a broom closet in one of the world’s most guarded buildings. A final toast of indulgence, of giving in to you and your temptations. His body was the best high you could get, and it felt like a final celebration of your love for him.

Both of you hot and heavy, you finally spoke again between the moans.

“You know, if I got to go back and choose whether to do this all again or not,” you confessed. “Being with you was worth everything.”

“This isn’t goodbye,” he whispered solemnly.

“And if it is,” you replied, “I want you to know that I love you with all of me.”

You were shocked to hear yourself say that.

“I guess I wanted to tell you that in case I never get to,” you chuckled.

“No, no, don’t say that,” he said while giving hickeys to places only the jumpsuit could cover.

“There’s nothing you and I can do about it,” you rebuked, “this isn’t up to us anymore. But this,” you continued with a kiss, “this moment is.”

He lifted his head from you.

“Actually, there is something I can do.”

He immediately stood up and began to dress again. You pulled up the zipper on your jumpsuit as you watched him frantically try to fix his hair and clothing.

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, too frantic to give you an answer. He finished getting ready and grabbed you by the shoulder before leaving.

“Wait a few minutes after I leave. The guard outside will take you back to your cell and we should be fine.” He kissed your head, shaking and holding the kiss for longer than usual. “You’re going to come out of this.”

He opened the door and left the broom closet. You waited a few minutes, as he said to do. You finally left, and Madeline walked by you as you made your way back to your jail cell.

“You two must like each other a lot. You guys were in there for a while.”

You looked up at her, her figure towering next to you as you walked.

“Did you see where he was leaving to?”

She shook her head and opened the cell door.

“He didn’t say or nothing. He gave me some cash and hurried out, though.” She chuckled. “I said yes for twenty-five bucks, but he left giving me forty. If he didn’t just jet off like that, I would’ve said something.”

She closed the door, leaving you in your enclosure.

“By the way, Agent Rossi heard you had been doing some reading. He left a book on your cot.”

She left the jail cells and you were alone again.

Curious, you walked over to your cot to see what Rossi had left you. It was a first edition of Twilight, and in the inside flap held a note.

This reminded me of you. Hopefully, you don’t watch people in their sleep, though.

-R

You scoffed as you flipped through the pages. The book came out when you were in elementary school; you and your friends tried to read the books secretly, not understanding quite yet why your parents called them “mature.” It sure made toxic relationships seem romantic, and maybe that’s why your relationships never felt healthy.

You began to read, and began to get sucked into a world filled with supernatural beings and teenage angst. Bella had just started a game of volleyball in her P.E. class when the door to your jail cell opened suddenly. It jumped you out of the haze the book had gotten you stuck in, and you were surprised to see the same guard from before in the room.

“You’re wanted immediately for questioning.”

Walking the same path you had memorized at this point, you played over in your mind what else they might need you in questioning for. They had most of your information, fake or genuine, that you had given them. You entered the interrogation room to find Agent Hotchner, Rossi, and Morgan all in the room at once.

You didn’t make your way to your usual seat, just paralyzed. Usually, one person was in the room questioning you, not three at once. They all looked frustrated.

“Tell us, Y/N,” Rossi started, “what did you do?”

Every inch of your body was covered in fear. “Do…?”

Morgan sneered. “Stop playing coy, you little freaky –”

Hotchner held up his hand and interrupted.

“Y/N, about half an hour ago, Agent Reid dropped all charges on you. He’s not holding you accountable and dismissing the issue legally.”

What...?

“Unfortunately for both you and him, we’re not done yet.”

Taglist:

@thatsonezesty13

[gubler-me-up]

Exposed (MGG Request)

Request(s): I got a mgg request! Maybe one where reader and matthew are both part of the cm cast and and while on an interview they’re like asking him about her and he’s like ♥️👄♥. And everyone’s like aww. That made sense?

OMG WAIT ANOTHER MGG REQUEST POPPED IN MY HEAD! How about Mgg and reader reading thirst tweets and they are joking around but matthew kinda starts getting jealous 

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon!! Originally I was going to do these two requests separate but every time I thought of these requests I thought of those YouTube videos where celebs read thirsty tweets so I decided to make it a talk show setting to incorporate the best of both worlds, no hannah montana (that was so lame pls excuse that) hope you enjoy! 

Couple: MGG/Fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: Thirsty af tweets but that’s about it

Word count: 2.5k

————-

“I don’t interview well,” you said to your makeup artist.

“Just envision the audience naked,” she giggled as she applied your mascara.

“That old trick never works,” you said.

“Okay, how about you pretend you’re on the set of Criminal Minds except it’s a live take in front of a studio audience?” she said.

You placed your hand on your cheek as you put on an over-exaggerated thinking face. She laughed as she finished applying your mascara. You looked at her with a scrunched up nose as you shook your head.

“I don’t know if I can, Sheena,” you said.

“Well, with Matthew by your side during this interview maybe you can,” she said.

“I’d probably choke even harder. I don’t even know what I was thinking when I agreed to be a surprise guest,” you said.

“You were probably thinking how fine Matthew would look in a suit,” she said.

“I get the privilege of seeing him in a suit every day on set,” you giggled.

She laughed along with you. Your giggle-fest was interrupted with the sound of Jimmy Fallon speaking. You both turned your attention to the small tv screen in your dressing room. You grabbed the remote to turn the volume up a little louder to hear what he was saying.

You watched as he gave a little introduction to his guest. Calling him a fan favourite of Criminal Minds and the dorky genius everyone is swooning over. You giggled as you knew Matthew hated so much admiration centred around him but you had a feeling Jimmy knew so as well. He kept on continuously complimenting him before he finally introduced him.

“Please give a warm welcome to your favourite FBI agent and mine, Matthew Gray Gubler,” he announced.

Matthew appeared from the side all smiles as he waved to the audience. He looked a little pink in the face. Probably from all the overflowing compliments Jimmy had given him. Jimmy had every right to gush over him. He looked fine as ever. He was wearing a midnight blue suit with his iconic black converse on. His hair was freshly cut short but his untamed curls didn’t seem to care as they swirled around his head. He had a new thing for rings too, specifically pink rings which only added an extra bit of spice to him.

“You know, I actually don’t think I’m the fan favourite anymore,” he told Jimmy.

Jimmy gave him an over-exaggerated shocked expression. He looked out into the audience before standing up and raising his arms up and down to encourage them to cheer.

“Make some noise if Dr. Spencer Reid is your favourite character,” he said.

Most of the crowd cheered as loud as they could. Matthew awkwardly smiled as he covered his face to hide the fact he was turning a deeper shade of red. Jimmy sat back down and laughed as he pointed out into the audience.

“The audience never lies,” he said.

“You’re right, you’re right, but I personally think we have a great cast filled with amazing actors,” he chuckled.

“Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out. Who’s your favourite character on the show?” Jimmy asked.

“I love Y/N Y/L/N character Andrea Pike. She’s such a fascinating character on the show,” he said.

You couldn’t help crack a smile at the way his voice brightened up when he mentioned your name. He looked overly excited to discuss your character. You felt Sheena nudge you with her elbow. You looked at her to see her smirking at you.

“I think someone has a little crush on you,” she sang.

You smiled as you felt your face heat up. You turned away from her to look back at the tv screen. You knew she would inquire about your feelings for him if she saw the way you looked. You weren’t quite ready to expose how you felt towards him yet.

“Y/N Y/L/N is such a great actress and I was excited when I found out she joined the Criminal Minds cast,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah, it’s great having her on. She’s so much fun to be around and she always lightens the mood,” Matthew said.

“I’d love to have her on the show one day. Do you think she’d ever come on the show?” Jimmy asked.

“Oh, for sure. You’d love her on your show, she’s so funny and entertaining. That’s what I love most about working with her,” he said.

Slight ‘awe’s’ came from the audience which made Matthew and Jimmy burst out laughing. Matthew looked towards the audience with a sheepish look on his face as he tried to reduce his bright grin. He didn’t have the chance to regain his composure as the band started playing a rendition of ‘Lady in Red.’

He placed both of his hands on his face as he leaned back in his chair trying to hide his embarrassment. Jimmy, of course, was having a blast watching Matthew squirm. Matthew slid his hands down from his face to show his flustered expression to the audience.

“Okay, okay, we’ll give you a break. Anyway, other than Y/N, what else is your favourite thing about working with the Criminal Minds crew?” Jimmy asked.

You watched as they talked about the show. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Matthew as he laughed and talked. His smile could brighten any room and his soft eyes could just melt you into a puddle. You watched the whole thing up until the commercial break. When it went to commercial you didn’t even realize you were still spaced out looking at the screen until Sheena nudged you.

“Girl, it’s your time to position yourself,” Sheena said.

“Oh, right,” you said as you jumped out of your chair.

“Lost in Gublerland huh?” She giggled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you walked towards the door.

You took one step out of the makeup room door before you froze. You turned around to look back at Sheena with an awkward smile. She immediately knew what you were about to ask and giggled.

“Stage right, hun,” she said.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

By the time you reached stage right, the show had come back from a commercial break. You stood there as you watched Jimmy explain to Matthew and the audience the activity he had planned for them. It was called “Need Some Water?” The concept was Matthew and you would read thirst tweets and whenever you thought the tweet was overly thirsty you take a sip of water.

Matthew had no idea he was going to be playing with you though. Jimmy handed him a deck of tweets he had printed and had a separate deck in his hand. He handed him a water bottle. He could barely contain his smile as he saw you standing, waiting for your cue to go on stage.

“We’ve actually gotten another guest to participate in “Need Some Water?” Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Y/N Y/L/N,” Jimmy announced.

Matthew’s head shot over to you as you walked out, waving to the audience with a big smile on. You looked at him and his face was nearly on the floor. He immediately stood up with his arms outstretched for you to come into. It was a magnetic connection instantly as you walked over to him and embraced him in a hug. You knew you shouldn’t hold him too long or else people would talk but the warmth of his arms and the scent of his cologne had you enraptured.

He let go of you slowly but without looking you in the eyes to give you a quick smile. You instantly smiled back. He directed you to your seat with a gesture of his hand and you followed the direction it was pointing at. You both sat down with goofy smiles splattered on your faces.

“Thanks for joining us, Y/N,” Jimmy said.

“Thanks for having me. I’m very excited to read what people say about me,” you said.

He chuckled as he handed you a bottle of water and the deck of tweets. Matthew took them from him to hand to you. He was such a gentleman. You took them from his hands and couldn’t help to feel butterflies fluttering inside your gut.

“You might find a few tweets from Matthew in your deck,” he joked.

“He might find a few of mine in his deck actually,” you joked.

You heard everyone in the audience go “ooo” and knew you sparked something again. You laughed as you looked at Matthew who looked down at his deck, shaking his head trying not to laugh. He wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it. Jimmy was having the time of his life cackling at your joke.

“Okay, okay, let’s start. Matthew, go,” Jimmy said.

Matthew turned over the first card and immediately opened his bottle of water. He took a long sip of his water so you knew it was a ridiculously thirsty tweet. Everyone laughed as he finished drinking his water before he even started to read the tweet.

“I would let Matthew Gray Gubler break my back in bed like a glow stick,” he read trying his best not to laugh too much.

You and everyone else freely laughed at the tweet. You excitedly turned over your deck to read your tweet. You covered your mouth trying to conceal your laugh.

“Y/N Y/L/N could just stare at me for a second too long and I would get pregnant,” you read.

“I think valid points were made. I’m currently pregnant with Y/N’s baby as well,” Matthew joked.

“Ugh, I hope it’s an Aries baby,” you joked.

“I dibs on being the Godfather,” Jimmy said.

Everyone laughed before Matthew went back to looking at the tweets in his deck. He chuckled to himself as he read it in his head. He looked up at the audience before bursting out laughing.

“If Matthew Gray Gubler took me out on a date and told me to pay for the bill, I would simply run my bank card deeper into the negatives for that man,” he read.

You laughed. “That’s a true fan.”

You looked at your deck and giggled. You opened up your water and took a long sip because the tweet was extremely thirsty. You saw out of the corner of your eye Matthew was watching you sip your water but he tried to gaze at the tweet in your hand. You didn’t leave him hanging for too long. You cleared your throat before reading it.

“If Y/N Y/L/N ever put an ad on craigslist asking if anyone had a dog up for sale, I’d tell her yes and meet her at her doorstep on all fours ruffing,” you read.

Matthew covered his mouth trying not to laugh too hard. Everyone else in the audience and Jimmy freely laughed. You felt your face get hot from all the laughing you were doing but also the fact you had serious admirers out there.

Matthew cleared his throat before reading his. “Maybe if I pretend to be a bird outside Matthew Gray Gubler’s window long enough he’ll open his window to let me in.”

You laughed. “These pretending to be animal tweets are too wild.”

“Do you have more like that?” Matthew asked.

You looked down at your pile. “No, this one’s actually kinda cute. If I knew Y/N Y/L/N I would love her forever and never let her go. Duh.”

Everyone in the audience ‘awed’ but you noticed Matthew was quite silent at your tweet. You looked at him and noticed he seemed a bit bothered by the tweet. He smiled politely but he wasn’t as energetic as he was before.

“Read yours,” you encouraged.

“Matthew Gray Gubler, please for the love of God, leak your nudes already,” he chuckled.

He took a long sip of his water. You giggled as you looked at your next tweet. You laughed loudly as you read it. Matthew turned to you in curiosity as to what made you so giddy.

“If someone doesn’t kiss Y/N Y/L/N already, I will. I will gladly volunteer and do it forever,” you said.

Everyone had a mix of ‘awe’s’ and laughs except for Matthew who was kind of stoned face. He still smiled politely for the camera but you knew something was wrong. You took a sip of your water as you tried to figure out what expression he was giving off. Was it possibly jealousy?

“That’ll be it for “Need Some Water?” Give a big round of applause to Matthew Gray Gubler and Y/N Y/L/N for coming on the show,” Jimmy said as he stood up to clap for you two.

You both waved at the audience with big grins before getting up to say your goodbye’s to Jimmy. He gave you both big hugs and started to ramble on about how much he appreciated you taking the time to come on the show. He also gushed about being a big fan of Criminal Minds which was always touching to hear.

Once the two of you finally exited the show stage, you grabbed and held onto Matthew’s arm as you two walked. He looked at you with a small smile with quizzical eyebrows trying to figure out what you were doing. You narrowed your eyes at him to look through his nonchalant expression.

“Is someone jealous?” You asked.

“Me? Jealous of tweets? No,” he said as he shook his head.

“I know I’m not a real profiler, but I know jealousy from a mile away,” you said.

“Is that so?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Of course. You don’t have to be jealous of fans though.”

“I’m jealous they have more guts to tell you they want to be with you more than I do,” he said.

You stopped dead in your tracks. He stopped as well to turn back and look at your floored face. You think that was the closest Matthew had ever been to saying how he truly felt about you.

“You want to be with me? Like for real, for real?” You asked.

He chuckled as he awkwardly looked down at his shoes. He soon looked back up at you with a smile as he nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he softly said.

You pulled his arm towards you and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He looked at you with a soft smile before leaning in to you and you received the message. You pecked each other on the lips quickly before parting as if nothing happened.

“You don’t have to be jealous of thirst tweets. I’d rather the real thing,” you said.

He chuckled. “How about I take you on a real date? Next Saturday sound good to you?”

You smiled wide. “Any day with you would be good to me.”

He smiled. “Great. I’ll text you tonight. See you soon, Y/N.”

“You too.”

You waved goodbye to each other. You stood there as you watched him walk away. To think a talk show would actually make him confess his feelings for you. Maybe you should have agreed to do talk shows with him way earlier if that would have been the result. You weren’t mad about it though because you finally got to be with the man you’ve been thirsting over for months.

—–

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512

MASTERLIST