Bless you for opening your requests 🙇♀️
Could I get one, maybe following on from The Valyrian Bride, where cregan and readers children get their dragons? Maybe they get eggs in their cots, or maybe they have to travel to dragonstone as one of the children bonds with a dragon that’s already grown and unbonded, and cregan is a bag on nerves having to watch them claim the dragon, but reader is the opposite, she is composed and reassures him that they are safe?
Thank you for everything you do 💖
Valyrian Bride (dragon eggs)
- Summary: Cregan was expecting a quiet day. But nothing is ever truly quiet with his dragon-blooded children.
- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark
- Note: The reader is an only daughter of Rhaenyra.
- Rating: Mild 13+
- Previous part: 3
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess
Winter had tightened its grip on Winterfell, but the great hall was alive with warmth and noise, the fire in the massive hearth burning bright and high. Cregan Stark sat at the long table with his bannermen, their voices filling the room as they discussed the usual matters—supplies for the coming winter, the training of new recruits, and the ever-present question of the safety of the northern borders.
He listened with half an ear, his thoughts drifting occasionally to his wife and children. The boy of ten and the girl of barely eight, were spirited and curious, always finding new ways to test their parents’ patience and were more trouble together than a pack of wild direwolves.
Cregan took a sip of his ale, his gaze turning toward the fire where children had spent most of the day. They had been unusually quiet, which in his experience meant they were plotting something. The problem was, with those two, ‘something’ could mean anything from sneaking a wildling pup into the kennels to hiding the cook’s ladle in the godswood.
“Lord Stark,” called Arnolf, his bannerman and old friend, pulling Cregan’s attention back to the table. “You seem distracted. More than usual, I mean.”
Cregan gave him a wry smile. “Just wondering what those two are up to. It’s too quiet.”
Arnolf laughed, shaking his head. “They’re probably just practicing their swordplay or playing a game. You worry too much, Cregan. They’re only children.”
“They’re Valyrian children,” Cregan corrected dryly. “And I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a harmless Valyrian game.”
As if in response, a high-pitched scream rang out from the far end of the hall, followed by another, then two more. Cregan’s heart leapt into his throat as he shot to his feet, his chair scraping back across the stone floor. His bannermen did the same, hands going to their swords.
“Seven hells,” Cregan muttered, his stomach twisting. The sound wasn’t one of pain, but panic still gripped him. “What now?”
The answer came quickly enough. His children’s voices echoed through the hall, but they weren’t screams of terror—they were shouting and laughing, the kind of noise that only came from sheer, unbridled excitement. His heart still pounding, Cregan took off toward the hearth, his bannermen trailing behind him, their faces a mix of confusion and alarm.
As he rounded the corner, Cregan skidded to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
His children were kneeling on the stone floor near the hearth, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Between them, nestled in a thick pile of blankets and surrounded by a glowing ring of embers, were two dragon eggs—large, oval, and gleaming with a strange inner light. And right there, amidst the warmth of the fire and the delighted shrieks of his children, the eggs were cracking.
“Look, Papa!” his daughter cried, hair falling around her face as she pointed eagerly at the first egg. “They’re hatching!”
Cregan blinked, his mind trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. He’d known they had the eggs, of course—gifts from Vaetrix’s last clutch. They’d been family heirlooms more than anything, relics of their mother’s lineage, kept cool and dormant. He had assumed they would remain that way. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the children would try to… heat them up.
“What in the name of the Old Gods are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and exasperation. He took a step forward, waving a hand at the flickering flames that danced dangerously close to the precious cargo. “You—You put them in the fire?”
His son, crouched next to his sister, looked up at him, his face flushed with excitement. “We read about it in one of Maester Kennet’s books! Dragon eggs need heat to hatch. The hottest fire we could find was here in the great hall.”
“And now they’re coming out!” his daughter added, practically bouncing in place as she watched the egg wobble and crack.
Cregan glanced around, half expecting his wife to appear and explain that this was some sort of elaborate joke. But no, it was just him, his two children, and two dragon eggs about to hatch in the middle of Winterfell’s great hall.
The second egg shuddered, a thin crack running down its length. His son leaned in closer, eyes wide with awe, and for a moment, Cregan’s heart nearly stopped. “Careful, lad!” he barked, reaching out and pulling the boy back. “Those are dragons, not pets. They’re dangerous!”
“But they’re ours,” his daughter insisted, not taking her eyes off the eggs. “And they’ll be our dragons, won’t they, Papa? Just like Mama has Vaetrix.”
Cregan opened his mouth to argue, to tell them how dragons were wild, unpredictable, and far too dangerous to be playing around with, but before he could get the words out, the first egg cracked open completely.
A small, wet dragonling tumbled out onto the blankets, its wings flapping feebly as it let out a tiny, high-pitched screech. The creature was a deep, shimmering green, its scales flecked with gold, and its eyes—bright and curious—blinked up at them as it tried to shake itself free of the last bits of shell.
His daughter’s gasp of delight was echoed by her brother’s, and both of them immediately reached out, their hands hovering just above the hatchling as if afraid to touch.
“Look, Papa!” she whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”
Cregan stared at the tiny creature, his emotions a tangled mess of awe, terror, and something that felt suspiciously like pride. “Aye,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It is, but—”
The second egg gave a sharp crack, splitting open with a suddenness that made even Cregan jump. Another dragonling emerged, this one a dark, smoky blue, with wings that seemed almost translucent in the firelight. It stumbled forward, letting out a tiny roar that was more of a squeak, and promptly tripped over its own claws.
His son let out a whoop of joy, scooping the clumsy hatchling into his arms without a second thought. “Papa, did you see? They’re both here! We did it!”
Cregan rubbed a hand over his face, torn between laughing and banging his head against the nearest wall. “Yes, I see,” he said, his voice strained. “But do you have any idea what this means? Dragons, here, in Winterfell?”
“They’ll be safe here,” his daughter said firmly, as if she had already thought the whole thing through. “We’ll take care of them. They’re ours.”
Cregan looked at his children, each now holding a wriggling, squirming baby dragon, their faces shining with joy and excitement. He could see it in their eyes—that fierce, unyielding sense of responsibility and love that only children could have. For them, this wasn’t a mistake or a danger—it was a miracle. Their dragons had come to life, and they were ready to embrace them with open hearts.
He let out a deep, resigned sigh, shaking his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. We’ll find a way to keep them. But you two—” he pointed a finger at each of them, his voice stern despite the warmth in his eyes, “—will have to take responsibility. Feeding, training, cleaning up after them. They’re not to be toys or playthings. Dragons are dangerous.”
“We promise, Papa!” they said in unison, their voices so earnest that Cregan almost believed them.
“And no more hatching dragon eggs in the hearth, understood?” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Winterfell’s ever seen this much excitement in one day.”
His daughter giggled, stroking the tiny green dragon’s head with a gentleness that belied her usual rough-and-tumble nature. “No more hearth hatchings. We promise.”
Cregan looked at his children—his wild, wonderful, dragon-blooded children—and then at the two new lives they cradled in their arms. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he let out a low, incredulous laugh. Who would have thought? Two baby dragons, born not in the hot skies of Dragonstone, but in the icy heart of Winterfell.
“Come on, then,” he said, shaking his head as he turned back to his bemused bannermen. “Let’s see what your mother has to say about this.”
As they made their way across the hall, the dragons chirping and squeaking softly, Cregan couldn’t help but marvel at the scene. Only his children could turn a quiet day into something this… extraordinary.
And though he’d never admit it out loud, a part of him was secretly thrilled. There was never a dull moment with dragons in the family, after all.
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We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend
Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3
You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.
Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader
(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)
DISCLAIMER
This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only.
You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
WARNING
Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 9.3K
See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist.
Not entirely, at least.
You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life.
Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent.
Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.
Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at.
Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen.
How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew.
That’s something you had to remind yourself of often.
He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details.
If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel.
It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.
The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter.
He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too.
Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over.
Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces.
“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.
“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her.
Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface.
“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.
“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking.
“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-”
“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”
When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring.
“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response.
“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically.
“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.
“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”
“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.
You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia.
“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.
Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”
She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly.
“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.
“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”
“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest.
“Okay what would you call it then?”
“I wouldn’t call it anything.”
“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”
“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”
You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive.
“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution.
“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills.
Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you.
“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off.
There’s no way.
You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way.
No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.
It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.
“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him.
A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly.
“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”
“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry.
“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self.
This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.
“So it’s a second date?”
“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”
“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve.
He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.
“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.
“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of.
In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut.
Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours.
“REID!”
Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company.
“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.
“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.”
It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can.
“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you.
Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself.
“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.”
“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat.
He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again.
The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick.
You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.
Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs.
“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.
“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him.
He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid.
You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later.
“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water.
“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”
The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again.
“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.
“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle.
“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent.
“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”
“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”
“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend.
But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”
“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction.
Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known.
“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else.
Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing.
“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him.
“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.
“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.
“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you.
His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible.
“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.
“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.
He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace.
“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”
Stop comparing him to you.
Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do.
“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.
Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.
“Did he..did he try to-”
“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought.
His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you.
It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation.
He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night.
You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.
“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”
It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.
“I-I just mean-”
“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build.
“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.
“Friend..” You nervously laugh.
The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either.
“You know…”
it’s almost not even a whisper,
“...if I wasn’t who I am…”
but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,
“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”
And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible.
“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.
The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship.
Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back.
“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done.
“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him.
Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now?
“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out.
A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away.
“You must be tired-” He starts.
You were still disrupting his space.
“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.
“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”
“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.
“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes.
“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”
Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.
“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again.
He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.
You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you.
In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back.
You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back?
When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier.
Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?
You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.
Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.
The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel.
“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”
Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in.
Shit.
You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night.
You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did.
Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before.
“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”
When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.
“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”
When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did.
There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together.
“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative.
Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world.
“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt.
“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.”
Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you.
You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.
They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.
The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads.
Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings.
“Are you hungry?”
That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care.
He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing.
“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further.
“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance.
“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him.
He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you.
“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”
You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble.
It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts.
“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”
That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you.
“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around.
“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking.
“Where are you going?!”
“Anywhere you’re not.”
He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway.
“Get back in the car.” He demands.
“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before.
“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.
“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.
“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”
“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.
“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.
“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!”
“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”
You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car.
You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast.
“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms.
“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never.
“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly.
“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant.
“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling.
“Answering a question with a question.”
This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence.
“Spencer, don’t–”
“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you.
“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration.
“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief.
“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh.
Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life.
“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”
“Some sort of joke–”
“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.
“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!
Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself?
That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?
I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.
Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating.
“That’s not fair”
His eye twitches at your response.
“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.
“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”
It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.
“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”
You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life.
Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels.
“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him.
You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away.
“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”
The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around.
“Is everything okay between you two?”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“What happened between you and Reid?”
“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”
You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist.
If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else.
Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.
Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar.
In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee.
By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends.
You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.
He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.
You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time.
You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.
“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.
Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand.
“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.
“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.
“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.
“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”
“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.
“What?”
“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.”
“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.
“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!”
You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it.
“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology.
You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life.
Spencer would always impact everything in your life.
The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.
“Yes?”
It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman.
“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down.
“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”
“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly.
“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores.
“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”
“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him.
“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.
“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”
Cold.
“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw.
“What more is there to say?”
“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him.
“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.”
He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”
With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.
The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type.
You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him.
Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.
Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.
“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.
Spoilers:
BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication.
AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.
I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.
Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls.
Thank you for reading!
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