#moreid hurt/comfort

[logolepzy]

Through the Storm, Into Your Arms ⋆.˚

genre : hurt/comfort

pairing : spencer reid / derek morgan

word count : 2809

warnings / tags : hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, argument, communication

note : critique always welcome! i also post my fics on AO3 :3 dividers by : cafekitsune

Soft, gentle rays of sun glow on Derek Morgan’s face. Spencer lies beside him, resting his chin on his hand, mesmerized by his features, admiring him just like the first morning they spent together. He chuckles at the fact Derek’s mouth is hanging open.

Derek sharply inhales, slowly opening his eyes to squint at Spencer, who is still intently staring into his partner’s eyes.

“Jeez, stalker.” His voice was harsh, but he managed to let out a chuckle. “How long have you been watching me for?”

“I have nothing better to do. Why not just look at you?” Spencer joked, putting on his awkward, straight smile.

“Of course you’d go with that. Just look at this face.” Derek smiles as he rolls over to sit up on his side of the bed, locking his fingers together to stretch above his head.

“Do you know what today is?” Spencer giddily inquired.

“Why wouldn’t I know, Spence?”

“I just wanted to remind you.” Spencer grinned, dropping his head to stare at his busy hands. Although they were dating, his little nervous fidgeting never disappeared. It was almost as if they weren’t dating, and he was still constantly crushing on him, feeling that loving flutter in his heart whenever they had a conversation.

Derek pushes himself off the bed and shuffles to Spencer’s closet to pick out some of the work clothing he brought over the night before.

“I was thinking we could do something nice for our 6-month anniversary.” Spencer blurted. He couldn’t contain his excitement for this day and had to discuss his plans thoroughly. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I’m okay with whatever.” He pulls up his dark blue jeans and starts picking out a V-neck shirt from his limited selection hanging up on the right side of Spencer’s closet. “Did you have anything specific in mind? As long as you enjoy it, it will be a good day.”

“I thought I could try to cook for you.” Spencer wasn’t usually the type to cook. He saved his skill for special occasions, for special people. “I already know you like Chinese food, but I’m unfamiliar with cooking that. Is there something I’ve made before that you also like?”

“You do make amazing ravioli.”

“I can do that, but we are out of pasta sauce, so we should grab some on our way to the BAU.” Spencer finally got up to start dressing himself. He makes his way toward the closet and starts sorting through his options, checking each fabric for the perfect material.

Derek exits the bedroom and heads towards the living room to scan for any mess. Spencer kept most of his life neat and well-kept, but considering he was frequently out of the house, the center of it fluttered around with his rushes. So Derek tidied up what he could, taking coffee-stained mugs to the sink and carefully placing his unfinished reads back onto the shelves with a bookmark on his last place.

Spencer comes stumbling out of his bedroom, nearly slipping as he tries to slide into his mismatched striped socks. He picks up his messenger bag, tossing it over his head and adjusting it on his hip.

Derek slides the last book back onto the bookshelf and looks back at Spencer, idly standing at the door, waiting for his boyfriend to complete their routine.

As they make their way out of the door, Spencer dives into detail on everything he had planned for the day. He was so overwhelmed with joy that he simply couldn’t keep all the specifics a secret. They make their way towards the lobby, Derek slightly picking up pace to open the door for Spencer, allowing him to continue rambling about various plans for their weekend.

The car ride on their way to the BAU was serene. Spencer suggested they take a more scenic route, considering today wasn’t a busy work day and the most exhaustive task they would have to complete would be a stack or two of paperwork. They casually ride through downtown and observe all the bustling businesses, briefly stopping at a corner store to pick up pasta sauce for their dinner later and a few other snacks to keep around the apartment.

Finally, they arrive at the BAU. Derek navigates through the parking lot, scouting out the best parking space. Not too far and easy to spot from the entrance. Spencer pulls on the handle of the car door, pushing it out to exit with it, and meets Derek at the front of the car, where he checks the time. 

“Ready to head in?” Derek looks over.

“I think so.” 

Spencer extends his hand out towards Derek’s as they make their way closer to the front door, but abruptly, he watches Derek jerk his hand back into his pocket, reacting to their contact. Immediately, a pit forms in his stomach. They weren’t a frequently affectionate couple, specifically not in public. Still, Spencer wasn’t expecting a reaction like this, not from Derek. It had taken some time for their relationship to even reach that level once they had made it official.

“Why did-” Spencer attempted to question.

Derek pulled the grand glass doors open, stepping aside, allowing Spencer to step in before him.

“Go ahead.” Derek bluntly stated.

Spencer can’t manage to get his work done, not after this morning. It was off-putting, even if it was a small, easily misunderstood action. He files through various documents and reports, patiently waiting to be completed. He snags a recent report off his stack and finishes the final details.

A worn office chair noisily rolls back, causing Spencer to look up from his work, spotting Derek rising from his seat to make his way towards the coffee maker, Spencer following closely behind.

Derek stops before the coffee maker, popping his favorite pod into its designated spot and placing his hands on the counter to tap a simple rhythm while he waits. Spencer slides beside him, awkwardly swaying as he stands in the silence.

“What was that earlier?” Spencer managed to mutter quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we walked in. Why did you not want to hold my hand?”

Derek’s eyebrows slightly raise, his jaw tensing in the same motion. He opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the obnoxious beeping of his coffee finishing brewing. Turning to the machine, he presses a couple of buttons, allowing his roast to fill a mug.

“Can you at least talk to me about it later?” He mumbles.

Derek nods, and Spencer heads towards his desk, bumping into Hotch on his way back.

“Is everything alright?” Hotch tilts his head. He had glanced over at their conversation earlier, sensing the tension between them.

Spencer gives him a straight, awkward smile and a thumbs up.

“We have a meeting. Could you let Derek know as well? Just a quick review.”

Like every week, the team sits contently at the round table as Hotch goes through past reports and upcoming goals. Spencer had set aside his trouble with Derek’s odd behavior, hoping to focus on the current meeting and set a better mood between them. As he jots down reminders in his planner, he glances down and notices Derek’s right leg bouncing anxiously. In an attempt to regulate whatever he may have been feeling, Spencer placed his free hand onto Derek’s fidgeting leg, causing him to flinch slightly. 

He discreetly grabs Spencer’s hand, throwing it off his thigh while giving him a harsh look. Spencer catches onto what Derek did and feels his heart sink to his stomach. A defeated look draws on his face, grabbing Hotch’s attention as he wraps up the meeting. His entire body language shifted, making it hard for anyone not to notice. Spencer felt nothing but utter humiliation, a thrashing wave of shame throwing him back in his seat. He felt his eyes start to fill, and his face begins to heat up. “Reid?”

He picks up his head to face his boss, forcing himself to contain his upset. 

“Uh- Yeah, sorry.” He coughs back his tears, realizing the entire team's eyes are on him, including Derek.

As the end of their work day approaches, Derek seems to rush as he gathers his belongings to head home, as does Spencer. Both of them were more than ready to leave the overbearing climate their workplace had become today.

No words are exchanged between them as they make their way towards Derek’s car. Spencer attempts to share a glance with his partner as if doing so would give him even the slightest glimpse of an explanation, a peek into his emotions. They drag themselves into the car, taking a moment to sit in the strained atmosphere.

The ride back home was more than tense. Reid shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, running through several openers to this heavy conversation, continuously fidgeting with his clothes, hair, nails, whatever put him at ease. Derek sat with his right hand on the steering wheel, his other hand propped on his door to hold his head as he rested it on his palm, strictly keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him.

“Are you upset with me, Derek?” His words get caught in his throat before shakily making their way out as he watches Derek’s jaw clench at the sentence. A rainfall of regret washed over him.

“What?”

“You-you refused to show even the tiniest bit of affection towards me at work.” The sentence lingers in the deafening silence of the moving car. Derek presses his lips together, holding himself back until he can find the right words.

“You’re seriously bothered by that? Because you can’t be touchy in a work setting?” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. Still, he couldn’t find anything more appropriate, unfortunately letting the bitterness soak into his tone. He peers over at Spencer, catching his timid expression shift into a look of infuriation.

“All I did was try to hold your hand.” “And grab my thigh during a meeting?” The tension between them was growing more and more dense as they threw arguments at each other.

“You were aggressively bouncing your leg for 20 minutes. I was trying to help you!” Derek scoffs, shaking his head at the statement. He gives no response, once again leaving them in ringing silence.

“Why is this making you so upset? I’m not asking to make out with you while we’re being briefed on a case.”

“We haven’t even told the team we’re together, Spencer. I’m asking you to tone it down in public, that’s all.” Spencer huffs, picking at the crumbs on his seat.

“Are you just embarrassed to be with me?” He mumbles. “You’re always avoiding affection or trying to hide it from everyone.”

“Jesus Christ-” Derek spits. “How about we leave it at the fact that I simply hate PDA?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it!” His voice cracks.

Spencer turns his head towards the window, staring out as they slowly roll into the parking lot of his apartment complex. Derek works into a parking space and shuts the car off, quickly gathering his things, Spencer following after him. He shuffles behind Derek as they head to the lobby entrance, keeping his head low as Derek holds the door open for him.

They both head into the apartment without uttering a single word to each other. Derek steps towards the kitchen, swiftly placing the cold jar of pasta sauce on an empty kitchen counter, then heads straight to the bathroom to wash his face and clear his head. The creaky door closes behind him, and he grips his hands onto the cold ceramic sink, glaring into the mirror. He recounts the events of today, resentment bubbling up into his throat, spreading through his body. The crack in Spencer’s shaking voice replays in his head, his somber face when he had been denied holding his partner’s hand into work, and his reaction when he threw Spencer’s hand off his thigh. Everything had finally set with him. He frees his hands from the sink, steps back to hit the wall, and slowly descends onto the floor.

Spencer quickly started on dinner, retrieving ingredients from various parts of their kitchen for a simple pasta dough. He was slightly comforted by the fact they made it home before 6 PM, leaving him enough time to finish dinner and hopefully have time to spend together, despite their differences. Immediately starting with the pasta, Spencer kneads frustration into the dough. Every emotion he had held in at work began to come up, forming a lump in his throat. Once again, tears began to fill Spencer’s eyes as he picked up his pace with preparing dinner, quickly whisking a spinach ricotta mix together, rushing to start filling the ravioli. Quiet tears hit the floor as he hovered around the stove, slowly watching his handcrafted noodles boil.

Spencer’s head swings as he hears a door creak again, catching Derek slipping out of the bathroom to crash on the couch. He turns back to his noodles, gently grabbing the pot to drop them into a strainer. A warm browned butter sauce waits in a pan on the stove, sizzling as Spencer incorporates the ravioli with it. The fragrance of their dinner makes its way out of the kitchen, catching Derek’s attention as he sits slumped on the couch, browsing channels for classic sitcoms. Spencer awkwardly slides even portions onto clean places, gently placing them on his petite dinner table and getting positioned at his side of the table. Derek looks over and catches his partner’s unspoken words, sluggishly dragging himself off the couch and plopping in his seat across from Spencer’s.

“This smells great.” Derek mutters while poking around his plate, searching for a perfect first bite. Spencer returns a nod in response, bringing his eyes back to his meal as he taps on the fake wood of his dinner table.

“So, uh-” Spencer begins to speak.

“I know,” Derek says softly, practically whispering. “I’m very sorry.”

“I didn't mean to be overbearing.” Spencer's face was misty, tears coating his cheeks.

“No, you weren't.” He takes a deep breath, searching his mind for the right words. “It’s just very different. Our relationship.”

Spencer presses his cracked lips together, stretching his hand over the table to lie on Derek’s. He began to guess as to what was bothering him and patiently waited to hear him out.

“I'm not entirely ready to tell the team about us. I haven't been this committed to a relationship in years. I don't want them to profile us and assume things on their own.” Derek cringed at the thought. He refused to allow something so important to be reduced to senseless office gossip.

Spencer sighs in relief, feeling an unbearable weight lift off his chest. Although the conclusion was drastic, it brought him immense security to know that Derek wasn’t ashamed to be with him publicly. Derek lifts his hand to stroke a stray hair away from Spencer’s glazed eyes, resting his hand on the back of his head, surveying his face for a tell as his lack of a response was killing him.

“Spence?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry.” Spencer jolted, finally snapping back into his consciousness as he stared back into Derek’s gaze. “I completely understand. I don't want to make you feel unsafe.” Spencer struggled to formulate a response aside from showing understanding.

“Still, I shouldn't have acted weird towards you out of nowhere.” Derek drags his hand from the back of Spencer’s head to his cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. “Let me make it up to you.” 

“Well, I can’t deny that.” Spencer softly chuckles at the offer, and Derek gives a pleasant grin in response. He squeezes onto Spencer’s hand, rising from his seat, his partner following along. As they wander through the cozy living space, relief washes over them both. Their relationship went through a rough patch and came out in one piece, and that’s what mattered to them now.

They plop themselves onto the pillowy couch, snuggling up to one another. Spencer allows himself to shift down to Derek’s lap, resting his head on his thighs. Derek tenderly caresses the doctor's rosy cheek, dragging his touch down to his shoulders and returning his hand to repeat the comforting motion. Using his free hand, he feels around through blankets and couch crevices for the TV remote, finally grabbing hold of it, and clicking through available channels in search of a laid-back movie. Something Spencer had already seen, to avoid the fatigued man being brought out of his dozing off to pick up new information. Derek tenderly drags a delicate throw blanket over his partner’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his forehead. Within minutes, both of them doze off, snuggled up against one another on Spencer’s couch.

[thesiriusmoon]

First Case

Summary: Bonnie is invited to assist on her first case, and got more than what she was expecting.

Characters: Bonnie McBride (OC), Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Jason Gideon

AU: Criminal Minds

Episode: Own

Word count: 4.9K

A/N: I make a lot of stuff up in this so just go with it! I make facts up a lot lol

TW: detail of blood and gore

Reblogs and likes help me a lot!! Help a little account out <3

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“Wheels up in thirty.” Agent Hotchner announced and Bonnie could have hit the roof and landed in Seattle already not having needed to use the jet.

It had been three months this she started her new job as the BAU’s (Agents Hotchners) assistant and she’d been invited to assist on a case. Not as a profiler or an agent, but to help out. Sort things, write down information, and keep up to date. Like a walking talking diary for the team.

Her go bag has been ready since her first day and followed Emily closely towards the jet, it was magnificent. She’d never imagine she’d ever step foot in something like this.

“You like it?” Emily asked knowingly, and Bonnie chuckled.

“It’s amazing.”

“Very comfy too!”

And the two entered and found a seat.

The rest of the team followed shortly and she thought it was a bit cramped for seven people, but it was fine none the less.

“Three killings, all stabbed and had their hair cut off, all dumped around the Livingstone park. Within four weeks. Which means around one killing per week.” Agent Hotchner read from his file, one that each agent had been given by Jennifer and Bonnie began writing in her notepad.

“The hair means something to him. Women love their hair, this dude hates women. So what does he do? Take away their identity and their looks. He’s angry and wants them to feel as low as he does.” Derek waded in, and by instinct Bonnie stroked her own hair. She did love hers. It was unique. Bright orange when the sun shone down on her, and cool ginger when there was no light. She’d hate to have it all cut off or lose it somehow.

“I think he knows the area. That park is two thousand acres, he can cover a lot of ground.” Said Emily.

“Are we sure it’s a guy? I mean, it seems like it could be jealousy. Possibly a woman who doesn’t see herself as pretty or well liked and she attacks attractive women then defiles something that most of us care for and always want to look nice, our hair.” Jennifer commented and Agent Gideon frowned.

“You might be onto something JJ. They leave the bodies face up, no remorse for what they’ve done. It could either me a man suffering from rejection or a woman full of jealousy. We’ll have to take a closer look when we get down there.”

“Did you know that in a recent survey taken in a Las Vegas high school, girls were asked what aspect of themselves they treasure most, and the highest answer was their hair. Not their body or maybe their face, but their hair. I-I think it’s because your hair can really change the way you look. You can change your face with makeup and surgery and your body by exercising and-and eating, but it’s easier to get a haircut or dye it.” Spencer gifted the team with his extensive knowledge.

“So you think whoever’s doing this is to make their victims… ugly?” Agent Gideon questioned, looking down to Spencer who nodded.

“Possibly.”

“Well all the girls do look kinda similar. Dark hair, blue eyes, skinny.” Derek had said before Agent Hotchner spoke.

“When we arrive I want Reid, Morgan, JJ, down at the police station find out anything you can about what’s been done. Gideon, and Prentiss, and I will visit the dump site.” He closed the conversation swiftly, along with his file.

“What will I do?” Bonnie asked eagerly.

Agent Hotchner thought for a moment. “Come with me. But if you feel sick or something you can head back and go to the police station with the others.”

But she swore she wouldn’t. This is what she’s preparing for. Her future. She’d have to get used to gory scenes at some point. And she wanted to prove she was capable of helping the team.

“Yes sir.”

And shortly after, the jet landed and Bonnie dug her nails into the arms of her chair, scared they would crash but had instead rolled smoothly into an airport.

Immediately, agent Hotchner, Gideon, and Emily were on their way to the Livingstone National Park, Bonnie in the backseat next to Emily.

“You ever seen a dead body before.” Emily asked suddenly and Bonnie almost laughed at how absurd that question was.

“Once.” She kept her answer short. Not wanting to give any more information about her past to the team.

It was rough growing up. Her mother and father migrated to America from Scotland when she was twenty two, Bonnie was four. Her red hair a flame and full of wonder. Her parents were convinced about the American dream, but neither of them had ever kept down a job, instead they fell down a hole of drug addiction. At the age of eighteen, her mother had found herself pregnant after a faulty condom broke, then six years later, it was her little girl who found her father laying lifeless in their apartment bathroom. A drug overdose. Since then her and her mother have been eating small plates and sometimes using cold water for showers. The apartment in which they live in now isn’t great. It needs a lot of work but neither of them have money to pay for it. Bonnie was accepted to college for outstanding grades as a young age. Child prodigy as her mother would say and tell her every day how proud she was of her. But lately she hasn’t seen her much, or heard anything similar in a couple of years.

“Who was it?”

“Emily.” Agent Hotchner had a stern look on his face and she gulped.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m sure you guys have seen lots. I’m just excited to be helping.”

Agent Gideon smiled a little. “Let’s hope you still feel that way when we’re done.”

They arrived at the park, and were welcomed by one of the rangers.

“Thank you for coming Sir. I’m Sandy Parker, head of the rangers and the park.” A broad woman possibly in her mid thirties with short red hair, a tattoo on her left arm, and a bulbous nose shook Agent Hotchners hand. She had been leaning up against a pick-up truck, the same colour as her hair.

“Thank you for letting us in. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, this here is SSA Jason Gideon, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Bonnie.”

And Bonnie. It sounded a little funny. Here’s three intelligent agents, and a kid. We’re here to solve the crime. Just like scooby doo.

“Oh my god am I the dog?” Bonnie thought to herself.

“Right this way. One of my coworkers Andy found her. He hasn’t blinked since.” Her tone was steady, deep, she must be very professional, or has seen something like this before.

As they were led through the forest, Bonnie noted how close the trees were. Not really good for entering. And she wrote it down. There had to be another entrance somewhere. It would be hard to move around in here without making a noise or dropping the body you carried.

Before she even knew it, the agents had stopped walking, and the three of them were staring downwards. So Bonnie did too, and almost vomited.

It was horrible. The girl must have been around her age. Brunette, small, skinny, but perky. That’s the ideal type isn’t it? To be thin but also have a little something going on. She knew that she want to be like that. But was rather flat, as she would put it when looking in the mirror.

The girls hair was chopped right to the scalp, bald patches shining here and there and some cuts on where the shearing had gone too close to the head.

The girls face was grey, totally lifeless. But what the worst part of it was, was that it was hardly a face. It had been mutilated with a blade.

“Fifteen stab wounds. Most to the face, some to the body which is probably what killed her.” Sandy sighed. “Poor girl. You never think something like this could ever happen to you. She was so pretty too… shame.” Sandy said staring right down at the girls bloody corpse.

In her notes, Bonnie wrote down about the overkill. The rage.

But was there hair here? On the ground? Or any blood splatters? If the girl was killed here, the hair that was cut should be here too.

“There’s no hair around here. Or blood.” She said.

“You’re right…” Agent Hotchner mumbled. “He’s not killing them here. He might be holding them.” And he flipped out his phone.

“Garcia, I need you to find missing persons report on brunette young girls, typically attractive, thin, and small.”

“She’s on it. Hopefully we can find out his type. And he might already found his next victim.”

Bonnie gulped hard.

Once there was nothing else to look at, the four began travelling back to the car through branches and twigs.

“That was some good spotting kid.” Agent Gideon made Bonnie jump.

“Oh… thank you sir.” Smiling gratefully.

“I hear your studying criminal justice?”

“Yes sir I am. I’m almost finished. I’ve been skipping a lot of grades and should be finished next year at some point.”

“Oh another genius! So tell me, what are you planning to do once you’re done?”

“FBI training.” She said proudly and Agent Gideon smiled.

“Well you’ve proven you know your stuff well. Keep it up and you’ll be in the BAU in no time. I’ll make sure of it. That’s how Spencer got in! Knew him when he was studying and could see his wits from miles away. Once he was done all he had to do was give me a call.”

If he was hinting at her doing the same thing, she might faint.

She’s always had a passion for justice. She was smart and wanted to use it for good. Help others. Save them. Make something of herself instead of falling into the same path are the one her mother is taking.

“So what have you found?” Agent Hotchner asked Jennifer who began filling him in on missing girl cases and had three pictures up on a clear board which Spencer was scribbling profusely on, while Derek read over the victims files.

“No sexual assault on any of them. I think JJ might be right. It might be a woman.”

Jennifer sighed. “But how is she doing it?”

“Being nice?” Bonnie suggested.

“Gaining their trust.” Said Gideon, taking a seat. “These young girls wouldn’t think twice about a woman or another young girl showing kindness would they? They’re more trustworthy than men.”

“I don’t know about you guys but I wouldn’t just walk away with a strange woman just because she’s nice to me.” Jennifer commented and Bonnie nodded her head agreeing.

Then Emily added, “Trustworthy. People of authority uh… police officers, nurses maybe, someone the public is brought up to know will help them.”

“So how’s she getting rid of the bodies.” Agent Hotchner asked the question they were all thinking.

“A car would be too small I think. Too easy to get evidence on it. So maybe a van, or a truck. Something bigger that would have space to hold someone.” Spencer spoke to the board he was staring at.

“Great. We’re ready to deliver the profile, good work guys.” Agent Hotchner left the room with the team following in his footsteps.

The whole police departement sat before them, looking up at them eagerly wanting just as much they did to catch the person doing this. Sandy from the park had also arrived. She wanted to find who was defiling her beloved park just like everyone else.

Agent Hotchner spoke first. “The person were looking for is female. All victims have been white so we feel safe to assume this unsub is too.”

Then Derek. “She’s someone trustworthy. It could be someone of the law or of some other authority. These girls don’t have to question whether or not they’re safe with the unsub.”

“She’s full of rage. These women are everything that she wants to be. Small, thin, pretty, and she’s taking her own insecurities out on them, shown by the over kill and cutting of hair.” Emily spoke up.

“So we’re looking for a woman who may not be the same age as these victims. She’s old enough to know the Livingstone area well and clever enough to plan out her attacks and kidnappings.” Said Spencer.

“That’s right. These aren’t spree killings or sudden fits of anger. These girls are being kidnapped, held, tortured, then murdered.” Agent Gideon finished, all of the detectives and officers had their mouths gaping. Sandy’s expression was sour and Bonnie couldn’t blame her. The innocence of these young girls were ripped from them cruelly. All because some bitch never learned how to love herself.

“That’s all for now. Thank you.” Agent Hotchner allowed the detectives to go back to work.

At that moment, Sandy had her phone to her ear, and looked wide eyed to Agent Hotchner. “Sir, they’ve found another body.”

“What? Already?” Bonnie followed quickly to keep up with his long strides and they ended up in the jeep, Emily and Derek in the back as Bonnie had accidentally taken the passenger seat. She could tell Derek was a little annoyed at that.

“Another body… they’re picking up the pace man.” Derek said worriedly and Agent Hotchner nodded.

“It’s weird… we were literally just there and the second we leave there’s another body… how?”

“Maybe they were watching us. They knew we were there and waited until we were gone to dump another.” Emily commented from her back seat.

Bonnie hadn’t seen anyone in the trees… maybe they were high up like a bird and she had missed it.

“Over this way!” Sandy yelled having beat them to the scene, this time in a small black car. The truck must be used for park purposes.

The team followed into the scraggly bushes, and went deep into the forest about a ten minute walk until they laid eyes on their latest victim.

Just the same as the last, but a more violent attack had occurred. The girls ear was missing, the other still intact with a dangly sapphire earring. Her face was practically gone. Mush.

“How could…” Bonnie choked and Emily lay a gently hand on her shoulder.

From the rest of her body, she looked young. Nineteen maybe twenty or eighteen. She had her whole life ahead of her and now it was nothing but ashes. They couldn’t even identify her yet…

“ID in her pocket. Drivers licence. Katy Darnwall, seventeen.” One of the officers handed Agent Hotchner the girls card with a glove. She was one of the girls on Spencer’s board.

Seventeen… possibly the youngest of the lot. Probably still in high school not yet completed her exams…

“That’s disgusting…” holding the back of her hand against her mouth, Bonnie took a deep breath while Emily squeezed her grip.

“How long has she been here?” Derek asked the officers.

“Dumped today. She’s still warm. A dog found her. He was off his leash.”

“If you like I can take you to the park station and we can call her parents.” Sandy suggested, looking down at the girl.

“No… we need to have a look around. See how the unsub got this deep in. There’s close trees, there has to be a path easier to get in.” Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned his attention to Emily and Derek.

“Split up and try and find the entrance, you too Bonnie, note down anything suspicious.”

And she obliged immediately. Anything not to look at the blood still pouring out of the young girls face.

On her way she went. Separating from the group with her notepad in hand. Writing as her mind refused to stop thinking for just a second.

“Woman… older… not very pretty, or thin.” She spoke out loud. “Truck or van…” just subconsciously, a face blinked in her mind. Sandy was a bit like that. She wasn’t trying to be mean or insulting but that’s just what the description made her think of. Maybe there’s someone living out here pretending to be a guide and luring these girls into a cabin or shed.

Bonnie had been walking through a dirt path for about ten minutes now, not even realising, and saw at the bottom of a hill was in fact, a shed. It was hard to see. Moss covered the sides and blended the building into the trees and bushes. Just like the rest of the forest, the trees were close together. Anyone walking past wouldn’t have even seen it.

But Bonnie really did love quizzes and challenges. Amazing at spot the difference and games were you had to find hidden objects in pictures that blended into its surroundings. She didn’t know what that game was called but she had named it ‘the chameleon game.’

Immediately she pulled out her phone to dial Agent Hotchners number, but no signal.

“Shit!” She cursed and turned back to the shed that looked pretty old. Shabby but… well kept. There was a garden with flowers. Tulips. And a small lake, almost like a big puddle about twenty feet away.

She couldn’t turn back now, she was afraid she’d forget her steps. So she went forward towards the shed.

Watching her footing, careful not to trip, she began her descent, and noticed there was a path to her left. That must be how this person is getting the victims out easily, instead of treading through all these branches. Another on the right near the puddle lake. Must be how they get in.

“Hey.” Bonnie’s soul almost left her body and she slipped down onto the dirty ground, covering her skirt in dry mud.

Whipping around she saw Sandy and sighed with relief, getting back to her feet. “Hey… did you know this shed was here?” She asked, pointing in the direction.

“Never seen that thing in my life.” The woman shrugged.

But she’s the head of the rangers right? She needs to know all about the park.

“How come?” She asked innocently, as anxiety began to fill her stomach, something wasn’t right.

“Just never saw it. Some of these woods are still undiscovered.”

Well that couldn’t be true. There was a map at the station for visitors so they don’t get lost. Unless this wasn’t on the map.

“Oh right… well…” she didn’t really know what to do now.

“We’ll check it out together alright? I’m here with you. Nothing to be afraid of.” Sandy’s smile had eased her, so she began to walk. Trusting her.

The closer to the shed she got, the louder the alarms were in her head. But she didn’t know what to do about them. Sandy was here, but Bonnie was beginning to doubt whether that was a good thing.

Older woman, not ideally pretty, not thin, trustworthy, authoritative, truck… it all added up and formed into the woman walking right next to her.

And… had she been following her? She was a long way away from the dump site, why hadn’t she let herself be known…

Sandy was a few steps in front of her, and Bonnie caught a glimpse of something shiny. “What’s that?” She had suddenly asked, curious on the little blue gem in Sandy’s hand, twirling between her fingers.

“Just a little something I found.”

Katy Darnwall’s missing earring.

The look of realisation must have been clear, as Sandy smiled and approached Bonnie slowly, and once reached, took strands of her hair through her stubby fingers, admiring it in her hand.

“Y’know, in all my life I’ve actually never seen someone with ginger hair before. Must be a foreign thing. It’s very pretty. Just like you. You’re thin, small, got nice rosy cheeks.” To which she pinched Bonnies face. A little too hard and Bonnies breathing hitched.

She wanted to cry out of fear. Scream for Agent Hotchner or Emily who wouldn’t even hear her. Someone safe. Someone to save her.

“And gorgeous blue eyes! Y’know how rare it is for ginger people to have blue eyes? Only zero point two percent in the entire world has that.” She looked down at Bonnie with a twisted smile, still playing with her hair in her fingers, with her free hand she stroked her cheek.

“I bet you’ve had a lot of boyfriends huh?”

“N-no… I’ve never dated anyone.” And that was true. She didn’t have the time nor the confidence to do so.

“Oh really? Why’s that? You’re a really beautiful girl. No one would ever want to date someone like me.” Sandy laughed, a little crazed. “But you… I know everyone wants a piece of you, and I hate you!” The hair between Sandy’s fingers was yanked hair and Bonnie fell down, suddenly feeling the weight of a boulder coming down on her face.

Scared and unsure what was happening, she pushed up hard, and rolled down the rest of the hill with Sandy running behind her. Hitting her head on stones or twigs on the earthy ground until she came to a quick stop and jumped, bolting for the shed.

“Get back here you little shit!” Bonnie screamed with fright and tried to door handle which didn’t budge, and dipped out the way before the pocket knife in which Sandy had pulled out collider with the wooden door, piercing it right through.

As she sprinted behind the shed she whipped out her phone and prayed for even just a little signal, but came up blank. But she pressed the call button anyways, letting it ring in her pocket.

There was the path to her left. The one which Sandy must have been using to dispose the bodies. If she followed it, it could lead her back to the team. Back to Agent Hotchner who’d know what to do.

The air went still. Bonnie stifled sobs, pressing her back against the shed, trying to hear footsteps or dirt crunching to get an idea of where Sandy was now.

But there was nothing. Which was more terrifying actually.

Run for it. You’re quick and she’s a little bigger than you are. She might not catch you.

Bonnie crept to the edge of the shed where she reluctantly peeked her head round the corner to see it open. Wanting to not think about anything anymore, her legs took control and she was running towards the path.

That was when Sandy pounced. She was a hunter. Knew how to catch prey in these woods, and she was pretty quick on her feet.

“HELP!” Bonnie screamed into the woods as hot tears rolled down her face. She didn’t have protection like the others with their guns. She had her bare hands and feet that were shaking all over she didn’t know how much she could run.

“HOTCH!” She screamed again, begging for the one member of the team she longed for. His approval, his praise, everything. He was just amazing. So calm and preserved yet caring and understanding. She felt safe when she worked with him and always felt bubbly when he smiled at her. He was the only person she thought of when running.

Sandy was catching at a frightening speed, like a cheeta chasing an antelope, and Bonnies skirt wasn’t in her favour, restricting the movement of her legs, which she would curse out later for possibly being the reason she had been caught so quickly.

Sandy was on top of her again in a flash, but she kicked with all her might and strength in her body to stop the woman from turning her into her next victim.

“Bonnie!” The sound of a man’s voice slipped through her ears, not really processing it at all as her brain was too busy instructing Bonnie on how to dodge a blade.

One hard kick after bringing her knees up close to her chin had done the trick to loosen the larger woman’s grip on her and she crawled backwards, eyes manic with fear but she had forgotten how to stand.

Though she didn’t have to.

“Stop right there!” It was Derek, standing on higher ground pointing his gun directly at Sandy who had not paid him any attention. Instead she was looking hungrily in the direction of Bonnies small frame. Snarling like an animal fighting for food.

The woman lunged and Bonnie screamed.

Then a gunshot.

Bonnies shut eyes tentatively opened, and was horrified by the bloody scene in front of her.

Sandy had been shot through the chest. One clean shot. Her blood pooled around her body, as well as dripped from Bonnies nose.

“Kid?! Are you alright?” Derek’s voice was muffled. She couldn’t stop staring at the woman.

“She tried… she tried to…” she was ashamed on how her sobs broke loose but was comforted by the strong arms of Derek around her.

Picking her up swiftly with the young girl clinging onto his shoulders, legs weak, she watched as Sandy’s lifeless figure became smaller and smaller until she was gone.

She must have fallen asleep or passed out because when she opened her eyes again, her and Derek had just arrived back at the park station.

The strong man put her down and steadied her with his hand.

“You alright? You’re not hurt or anything?” He questioned frantically, checking her for cuts or bruises.

“I don’t know… my arm is a little sore.” Derek pulled her blazer up and winced.

“Must have got you and you didn’t realise. Will need stitches.” His gaze softened and his hand caressed her cheek, it was much more friendly than Sandy’s.

“Some first case right?” She had tried to joke but choked on a sob afterwards.

There was embarrassment and let down. She wanted to be in this field so badly but had fumbled her first chance.

“Bonnie! Oh my god, thank god you’re safe.” Once the pair walked in, Agent Hotchner sped over and had engulfed her in a hug, which she returned tightly. “You did it. You found her, seriously well done.”

She didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

“Your call to me, Garcia tracked it and Derek found you first. Officers are down at the shed and have found two girls. Without you, they wouldn’t have been found.”

Bonnie could have vomited now with the knowledge that she had been right at that shed and had no idea… but how could she? She tried the door and it was locked. She couldn’t get in if she wanted to. She couldn’t kick down doors the way Derek could.

“But I failed.” Her lip quivered.

“Failed?” Jennifer scoffed with a smile. “Bonnie you caught her. And those other girls are safe now because of you. I’d call that success.”

“Days in the field are hard. Sometimes it gets rough.” Agent Gideon nodded his head.

“But if Derek hadn’t-“

“No. Enough. You did good. And I’m sorry for sending you out there alone… if I had any idea then…” Agent Hotchner sighed. “We found out probably the same time as you when we realised Sandy had gone. We were looking everywhere and your call helped us find you.”

Bonnie pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked that it had eventually went through.

“Thank you.” She whispered and Agent Hotchner led her outside with the rest of the team, away to get some medical treatment to which Bonnie still couldn’t really feel her arm. She just knew that it hurt. The blood on her coat said otherwise however.”

Fresh stitches, clean clothes, a good rest. The plane back to DC would be a little while and she was very excited to sleep, though she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to commit to it.

She’d never been attacked like that before. It had been a serious eye opener to who the BAU actually deal with. But then there was thrill to do it all over.

“So…caught your first bad guy today huh?” Emily said with a smirk on her face at the other side of the table in the jet.

Bonnie chuckled. “I guess so.”

“I read your notes. You were ahead of us. I couldn’t imagine how scary that must have been though. Figuring it out alone when the person is right there next to you… that must have sucked ass.”

“It did. But it’s over now.”

Emily winked to Bonnie. “Damn right it’s over. If you were of age I’d offer you a drink.”

“Legal age in Scotland is eighteen y’know.”

“Yeah well, I’m not ready to lose my badge yet.” The two of them laughed. Bonnie didn’t drink anyways, she hated it.

“So… would you like to tell me what the first body you ever saw was then?” Emily asked and Bonnie twisted her mouth as she stared around the window at the soft clouds passing by.

“My dad.” She said absently. “Drug overdose. I was six. Me and my mum have been ourselves ever since.”

Emily frowned deeply and stretched her hand over to where Bonnies lay on the table. “Well, if you ever need someone I’m only a phone call away. We all are. Each of us all have some sort of trouble one way or another… you’re part of the team even if you’re an assistant. You’re part of the BAU.”

Bonnie smiled in spite of the void in her chest, sniffed before closing her eyes.

“Thank you… Emily.”

[boldlyvoid]

I Know Places 3: Omnivore

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: Reader thought that Aaron was depressed post-divorce and following the death of Kate Joyner... nothing compares to how he is dealing with the mass amounts of guilt surrounding The Boston Reaper.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (child sexual assault, arson, murder, burn victims, death), background moreid hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depression, suicidal thoughts/feelings, deep emotional chats, love confession, first kisses, lots of kissing

Word count: 8.1k

The last couple of months have been nice. Neither she or Aaron has gotten hurt, which is the best part, but it’s also been nice just getting closer to one another. They’ve continued their phone calls at night, they get dinner together sometimes after work, she’s met Jack and accompanied him and Aaron to the museum on one of Aaron’s weekends alone with him. Aarons has been over to her place, and even spent the night a few times now.

It’s been lovely, actually.

Something changed after the cult case. After she was held hostage and beaten pretty badly. He took care of her, he got closer to her than ever before… she can’t really remember much from that night right after the case, all she knows is she woke up in his arms again and she never wanted to leave.

They’ve shared a bed in every case since then.

As for the rest of the team; JJ had her baby, a little boy named Henry. He’s adorable. So, needless to say, JJ was out of the field for a while, other than that, not much has changed at work.

Something is defiantly going on with Reid and Morgan… Reid had his own special case just before JJ had her baby, he remembered a case from when he was a kid and thought maybe his dad was a killer or worse. Derek stayed back with him in Vegas to figure it all out, they bonded over it too. Having similar childhood trauma, Derek was the only one who could really talk to him about everything he went through as a kid. She was glad they had each other.

Penelope’s even been trying to get them all to go on “double— triple? … quadruple? Quintuple dates!!” Seeing as everyone in the BAU has a significant other now. JJ and Will never come because they have a baby, she and Hotch don’t go because the assumption that they’re a couple is still awkward for them as they haven’t admitted to the other that they even like each other yet. And Reid and Morgan are too busy having alone time together to go out in public yet.

And then there’s the ever-secretive David Rossi… Dave’s been talking to one of his ex-wives again. He’s been happier. He’s whistling in the mornings and not staying as late anymore. He’s definitely getting laid.

All this gossip is stuff that she and Aaron have talked about lately. They would stay up late, either on the phone or at her apartment, chatting about anything and everything… And at the end of the night, when he’s at her place, they’d get ready for bed together, he’d slip into her bed on the side she never slept on and they’d fall asleep, cuddled into one another. On nights he didn’t come over, however, they’d still get ready for bed together, their phones on speakerphone, and they’d talk until one of them started to drift off.

She loved this new tradition. So seeing it come to an end so soon, it broke her heart a little.

Aaron's lowest point wasn’t getting divorced. It wasn’t losing Kate Joyner. It was letting the Boston Reaper getaway. Again.

It all started with a phone call. Tom Shaunessy’s care nurse called Aaron one morning while they were on their way into the office, inviting him out to Boston as Tom was dying and this was his final wish. Aaron couldn't just say no, so that night after work, she drove him to the airport.

When he got back the next morning, she picked him up and he knew something was up. Something happened… at first, she thought he was there as Tom died, then they got to the office and Penelope handed him a copy of The Michigan Post from March 1998. As it would turn out, Shaunessy made a deal with a serial killer, he vowed to the Boston Reaper that he wouldn’t kill anymore as long as Shaunessy stopped hunting him. He agreed, the killings stopped and he sent Aaron and the rest of his team home.

As soon as Tom died, The Reaper killed again. A young couple first, an older couple second and then a bus full of people simply because Aaron wouldn’t take another deal from him. She was there when it happened. She was sitting beside him in their hotel room when he got the call.

At first, she thought there was another attack, they had only been at the hotel a few minutes. It was only 9 pm, normally he didn’t hit until later at night. She got out of bed to start getting dressed again as Aaron answered the phone. She watched his expression change almost instantly. The heavy breathing on the other end was loud enough for her to hear… it was The Reaper.

“Who is this?” “If you stop hunting me I’ll stop hunting them,” the deep, sinister voice started. “you think I’d take that?” Aaron spits back, pissed that he’d even suggest it to him. “It’s a good deal.” “I’ve misjudged you. I thought that you were smarter than this.” “You should take it.” “Then you’ve misjudged me.” “This is your last chance,” The Reaper says, audibly angry that it’s not going to be this easy this time. “I don’t make deals. I’m the guy who hunts guys like you,” Aaron says, stern and confident. Angry as all hell. “There are no guys like me.” “You all think that,” Aaron spits. “You’ll regret this.” “I’ll see you soon,” Aaron says and then slams the phone down on the receiver.

She doesn't say anything, she watches him run his hands through his hair and turn towards the window in their room. He’s watching them. He knows where they are. He finally turns to her, “This is going to get messy.”

“We’re used to that,” she reminds him. “They all make contact with the police, they insert themselves into the investigation every time. We know this.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that east this time.”

-

They couldn’t go back to sleep. They waited and waited for another call- for the police to report another killing. Another couple in their car or a single woman stabbed a bunch of times the way he liked to do… what he actually did wasn’t at all what they were used to.

The Reaper was more than mad. He was furious that Aaron wouldn’t take the deal. It’s like he wanted the deal. He wanted a reason to stop but Aaron's words just made him need to kill even more. There were 7 people on the bus, including the driver. They were all shot multiple times and then the women were stabbed.

And when Aaron stepped onto the scene… when he saw what The Reaper did because of him, he almost threw up.

Rossi follows him around the side of a building, down an alleyway and away from the scene. Leaving Y/N and Morgan at the bus alone to check what was taken and what was left. There were numbers left on the window in blood 1488, 201, 1439. And The Reaper's calling card. An eye drawn in blood on the front window of the bus.

She heads around to find Aaron, wanting to ask what he thinks of the numbers when she finds Rossi handing him his gun. “You convinced me…” Dave explains.

Aaron pushes the gun away and wipes his eyes.

“No, no, you hung up on him. You practically killed them yourself,” Dave pushes even further. “Go ahead, get it over with. Don’t worry about us, we’ll get this guy without you.”

“Dave I had 10 years to do something about it!” Aaron fights back, trying to reason with him that his reaction is warranted.

“Shaunessy made the deal, the killing stopped, he closed the case and sent the BAU away. For 10 years you worked on active cases—

“But I kept coming back to this one,” he admits. “I kept coming back to this profile.”

“Hey, I was retired. Should I blame myself?” Dave pushes. “Is it my fault for every victim died while I was out on my book tours? Look. If you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head is not your conscience, it's your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. it’s about the bad guys. That’s why We Profile Them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it, someone else will. Trust me. I know.”

“You can put that away,” Aaron looks down at the gun and then back at Rossi. Neither one of them notice her and Morgan standing there, watching.

“You sure?”

“It’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Aaron manages to give him a little smile.

Before they turn towards them, he and Morgan rush back to the front of the building and pretend they never saw a thing. But she saw it. She saw the tears in his eyes and the hurt in his soul. This is going to affect him for a while.

“What did you find?” Aaron asks them once he rounds the corner.

“The bus driver has the wedding band taken from the male vic at the last attack,” Morgan explains. “But I can’t figure out the importance of the numbers on the windows?”

“Send them to Reid, he might know,” Aaron suggests.

“Wait…” Dave says as he looks through the windows. “I know those numbers?” He pulls out his little evidence book from his pocket and flips to the most recent page. “Those are the addresses to George Foyet’s apartments.”

Foyet, being a man they interviewed only yesterday. He was the only survivor of the original killings in 1998. He was stabbed over 67 times in the chest while in his car with his girlfriend… after the case, Foyet healed, he recovered and he disappeared. He essentially killed off every part of who he used to be, making himself somewhat of a ghost that even Penelope couldn’t track down. The only way they could find him was through another guy, Roy Colson who wrote a book on The Reaper and interviewed Foyet. He gave them three possible addresses for him.

1488 Edenhurst, 201 South Brookline, and 1439 Yarborough.

“Okay we’ll split up,” Aaron announces. “Me and Dave will take South Brookline, you and Morgan take Edenhurst, we’ll get the police to do Yarborough, let’s go.”

—

When they arrive on the scene, she heads around back and Derek kicks in the front door to clear the house. It’s scarily quiet and dark, she holds her flashlight up as she checks out the yard and heads towards the shed in the back. That’s when she hears it. With a loud crash, she holds down the talk button on her in-ears and speaks, “Morgan?”

No answer. She rushes around the front and see’s Derek laying on the ground surrounded by glass. He was thrown out the window and he’s unconscious. “I need medical assistance at 1488 Edenhurst, I have a federal agent down, I repeat, a federal agent is down at 1488 Edenhurst!”

She doesn’t approach him, she simply keeps her eyes out for The Reaper, her gun drawn, she keeps her back to the street and watches the house. “Come out here and face me like a man, you sick fuck!”

From behind her, she hears a laugh. Deep and dark like the phone call. She turns around in search of the voice but no one is there, she shines her flashlight on the street, across the neighbour's bushes and then she turns back to the house. He’s gone. Disappearing into the darkness of the night as the sirens are heard approaching the street.

She heads back over to Derek then, he’s coming to and trying to sit up. She holsters her gun again, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, you have glass all in your shoulder.”

“Did you get him?” He asks.

“No. I heard him laughing at me, but he got away. I couldn’t figure out where he went, it was like he was right behind me but when I turned there was nothing… he-he just disappeared. Like a ghost.”

The paramedics are the first on the scene, they get Derek off the ground and inside Foyet’s house. They sit him down on the back of the couch for height and cut him out of his shirt so they can start pulling the glass from his shoulder. That’s when they find it.

He left Derek with a bullet. Unused, gold and shiny, in the pocket of his jeans. “What did he take?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t—” Derek looks around at all his things and then he realizes. “He took my credentials.”

“At least that’s all he took,” Aaron’s voice is heard from the doorway. “Are you okay?”

Derek nods, “I’ll be fine…”

Aaron heads off deeper into the house, she hasn’t left Derek's side so she hasn’t seen what state the house is in… “Y/N,” Aaron calls out to her. “Come see this.”

She follows his voice into the kitchen and that’s when she sees it. The whole floor is covered in blood, signs of a struggle and a drag mark leading out the back door. “I didn’t even notice the back door was open when I was checking out back? Holy shit…”

“He has Foyet,” Aaron says, confident that this is his blood and no one else. “He finally got him.”

Reid comes running onto the scene then, JJ not far behind him. He rushes to Morgan's side, “are you okay?”

“Reid,” Aaron calls out to him. “I need you back here.”

“Go, it’s okay,” Derek assures him.

Spencer walks right into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, “oh, wow…”

“How much do you think is here?”

“The average human has 5 quarts of blood in their system… I’d say this is close to half that. No one could lose this much blood at once and survive,” Reid explains.

“We need to regroup. Somethings off with the profile,” Aaron announces. “Why would he leave Foyet alive all this time just to get him now?”

“Foyet disappeared,” she reminds him. “Penelope said he was like a g— oh my god?”

“What?” Aaron asks.

“The Reaper, he was outside with me, he was laughing, I couldn’t figure out where he was in the dark and I said to Derek it was like I was looking for a ghost.”

Hotch rushes out of the kitchen towards the living room where the rest of the team is around Morgan. “Why would he go after Foyet?” Aaron poses to the team.

“I don't know?” Derek shrugs.

“He’s not a threat at all,” JJ says with a roll of her eyes.

“He kills men quickly and easily, but women and girls… the younger they are the more time he spends with them. He likes to stab. Stabbing represents a sex act. He likes them younger. Specifically teenagers… Amanda Bertrand, she was only 19. She was a freshman and he was her teacher's assistant,” Hotch explains. “Y/N said The Reaper was like a ghost, Penelope said the same thing about Foyet. What are the chances that both men would be sexually interested in teenagers and disappear easily?”

“The guys a hebephile,” Rossi states. “But how would he be able to stab himself 67 times and call 911?”

“He called 911 before he stabbed himself after he killed Amanda. That’s why he was the last victim, that’s why he disappeared, he had Shaunessy agree to the deal right after that. He both inserted himself into the investigation and made it so we wouldn’t think twice about him,” Aaron keeps going. “Get Penelope on the phone.”

JJ whips out her cell and starts the call, “Hey is Derek—

“He’s fine,” Hotch answers for him. “Penelope I need to know everything about Amanda Bertrand.”

“Oh, okay, uh,” she stumbles around, typing furiously. “She was 19, a freshman. She came to Boston from Michigan to go to school.”

“Michigan. That’s where The Reaper had Shaunessy put out the personal ad in the paper,” Hotch remembers. “what were Foyet’s aliases?”

“Kevin Baskin, Mark Holden and William Parker,” Rossi reads from his notepad.

“Garcia—

“got it, sir.”

“I need you to look them up in the Boston City Records— try the Department of Education,” Hotch asks.

“Well played sir, they all work for the Department of Education as substitute teachers… they all teach computer science—

“High school?” Hotch asks, knowingly.

“Yeah… oh wait,” Garcia pauses.

“What?”

“William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behaviour with his female students,” Penelope reads off her screen.

They all watch as Aaron stares off, remembering something that he isn’t sharing with the rest of them.

“Hotch?” JJ tries to bring him back to the conversation.

“Aaron,” Y/N reaches out for his hand. “What is it?”

“Colson. Foyet called him, he wanted to meet with him.”

“Garcia,” Dave is about to ask her to track his phone.

“I’m already on it,” She explains furiously typing away. “Give me one second to triangulate… okay, he’s at 2633 South Babylon.”

“Come on,” Hotch orders, stand-in up and reaching for his bulletproof vest again. “George Foyet is The Reaper.”

Getting out to their SUVs happens in the blink of an eye, and the police follow them in their squad cars. It’s only been 6 hours since the phone call. To hear the police rushing down the streets at 3 am, everyone in Boston knew something was going down. Everyone gets off the street, allowing them to race down the roads as fast as they could, rushing to the 1 house Foyet didn’t tell them about.

“How did this guy afford to rent 4 different homes in Boston?” Y/N asks. “Seriously, what kind of freelance computer guy makes that kind of money?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugs, going 120 down the road, he’s not even really listening. He only cares about getting there before Colson’s death is on his hands too.

When they pull up to the house, Roy’s car is parked on the street and all the lights are on inside. There’s movement in the front window, behind the curtain, causing them to all head around back. Dave jiggles the back door handle and it opens, Hotch is the first one inside, gun drawn, clearing the room as they head around to the front room. There’s a clear view from the back door to the front door, Aaron and Rossi start slowly walking towards, it, blocking the exits so that they have him surrounded. He’s yelling at Roy, preoccupied with why it was never published that The Reaper made a deal with Shaunessy. He doesn’t even notice they’ve entered the house.

With Hotch and Rossi in front of him in the dining room, Y/N, Morgan and Reid make their way around to the little room behind the dining area, boxing him in so he can’t even think about running.

“It’s over,” Hotch makes their presence known.

“Stop!” Foyet yells, holding his gun to Roy’s head. “I’ll kill him.”

“You need him to write your story,” Hotch reminds him.

“I’m taking him with me, I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe,” he tries to broker another deal.

“No, you’re not,” Hotch is so done with his shit that everyone can hear it in his voice.

“I said I’ll kill him!”

“You kill him, I kill you,” Hotch bites right back. Calmer than ever. He has the guy, he knows this is so close to being over.

“you think I’m afraid to die?” Foyet laughs in his face.

“You’re not afraid. You’re greedy and narcissistic. You want the recognition that’s going to come the book that he’s going to write. You want the fame that’s going to come from the media. It’s gonna be like Bundy,” Hotch profiles him right to his face.

“I’m going to be bigger than Bundy,” Foyet says with a smile.

“Well, you can’t enjoy it if you’re dead.”

“If you know me so well how come so many people had to die to bring you here?” He rubs it in, profiling Aaron right back and digging in where it hurts.

“It’s your choice, not mine. You’re the serial killer,” he reminds both himself and Foyet.

“That’s right,” he says, starting to lower his weapon. He turns back to Morgan and smiles. “Hello Derek,” he teases, putting his gun down on the table and in a rare turn of events, it’s Reid who grabs him by the back of the neck and pins him to the wall and begins to cuff him.

“Where’s my badge?” Derek asks as Spencer flings him around, holding him by the cuffs. Foyet starts to smirk and so Derek grabs his hair and tugs his head to the side, staring right at him now. “Where is it you son of a bitch?”

“I’m going to be more famous than you even realize,” he teases one last time before Spencer hands him over to the cops so he can be processed and booked into the nearest prison.

Once he’s out of the room, Aaron checks on Roy and Y/N and JJ let in the detectives. “Reach this place high and low, I want no stone gone unturned. Find me trophies, evidence, anything you can that can really get this fucker pinned and locked up for the rest of his life,” Y/N explains to them. “And if you find Agent Morgan's credentials, you know where to mail it.”

“Let's go home,” Aaron announces to the rest of them, taking his in-ears out and pulling on the Velcro strap of his vest. He’s so over this case.

—

The flight home isn’t too long. They touch down around 6 am and all head back inside the building together. Headed up to their floor, everyone is quiet. They’re exhausted, they can’t wait to file their paperwork and head home to sleep the rest of the day… they get about 20 minutes into their paperwork when JJ gets a call and goes running from her office, down to Aarons.

“Foyet escaped?”

Just then, their phones start to ring, the detectives called Y/N and she grabs Reid right away taking him to the fax machine, the one in her ear says that they found schematics to all electrical, water and heating ducts to every single correctional facility, prison and courthouse in Massachusetts. He was planning this for far longer than anyone thought. He knew this day would come and he was ready for it.

He was going to be bigger than Bundy… and Aaron had to find a way to live with that.

—

She notices a shift in him, this one is worse than after Haley served him the papers at work.

He wasn’t just depressed this time… he hated himself a bit now. He hated that he never gave the profile in ’98, he hates that he didn’t realize that The Reaper leaving a witness was weird. He hated himself for not watching George Foyet carefully as he was brought to prison.

He feels like everything is his fault.

She watches him stay later than ever, he misses nights with his son and they don’t talk on the phone anymore. His nose is constantly in his files, trying to find a way to figure out where George Foyet would be before he takes another life.

She walks up to his office one night, having left already just to grab some dinner, she returns only to make sure he eats. She knocks on his door, “Hey… hungry?”

He looks up at her from his files and he softens, “Starving… thank you.”

She places the bag on his desk, “You need to take care of yourself, too, you know? You can’t catch this guy if you’re withering away to nothing.”

“You say that as if you don’t love taking care of me?” He teases, knowing her way too well.

“Okay, whatever,” she jokingly rolls her eyes, taking both their meals out of the bag, she places his in front of him and then takes her own to the other side of the desk.

She went to a nice restaurant and ordered a meal she knew he would appreciate. A steak with a baked potato and steamed vegetables. He opens the container and he can’t believe it, “you didn’t have to get all this?”

“When was the last time you had a good meal?”

He thinks about it but genuinely doesn’t remember. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she shoots him a sweet smile. “What are you working on?”

“A way to track Foyet,” he explains with a sigh. “I’m not getting too far.”

“That’s okay… you know you don’t have to look for him alone, right? It doesn’t just fall on your shoulders because you’re the only one still on the team from ’98.”

“I know,” he says between bites, hand over his mouth because it’s “impolite” to talk with his mouth full. “I just feel… terrible? He wanted to make a deal and instead of leading him on and continuing to look for him behind the scenes, I just made him angrier. He has to start over now, make new aliases, find a new place to stay, and figure out how to get all the millions of meds he takes without someone recognizing him from the news… I’ve made his life a living hell and he’s going to repay the favour. I know it.”

“You know serial killers don’t have rational thoughts, I mean, look at Ed Kemper, he really thought that he had to kill his mom's best friend because she’d be sad to learn her friend died and so her being dead too, stopped her from being sad… they don’t make any sense, you really can’t blame yourself for that,” she explains.

He just nods along, trying not to bring it back to himself. The self-pity is so strong, he really believes part of the weight needs to land on his shoulders.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She suggests, “Just leave the files, leave the work here, let’s go eat our dinner somewhere else… we can eat in my car, we could drive somewhere or go to my apartment? Let’s just get you out of here for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he agrees, he stands up and puts the lid back on his container and she follows his lead. “But I’m driving and we’re taking my car…”

“Okay,” she doesn’t mind. “You’ll just have to bring me back to work tomorrow.”

“I can do that,” he agrees. “It’s not like we haven’t been carpooling after I spend the night for the last few months, anyway.”

He slips back into his suit jacket and grabs his bag and keys. He holds everything in one hand and she offers to take his food for him, he places his hand on her back and leads her out of his office. “How would you feel about staying at mine tonight instead?”

“I don’t mind at all, I just need to grab my go bag from my car,” she agrees.

They take his SUV, he drives them to his own apartment and for the first time ever, she goes inside with him. They put their food on real plates, warm them up in his microwave and sit at his tiny dining table.

“How long have you had this place?” She asks.

“I got it just after my suspension. Right after Haley threatened to leave me… I think she was already seeing someone else,” he admits.

“What?” She can’t believe that. “Why?”

“Someone called the house phone and when I picked up and answered… they hung up and called her cell instead. It wasn’t her mom or her dad, it wasn’t her sister either. I know all their numbers. Someone called expecting her to be home alone during the day and when I answered, it threw them off. I knew that whoever they were was a secret she was keeping from me and she knew I knew it too.”

That just makes her angry, “I can’t believe she could even entertain the idea of cheating on you.”

“I’m not that—

“Stop talking down about yourself. You’re handsome, you’re a wonderful dad, you’re funny and kind and you care. I mean, you watch the boring TV shows I like just so we can talk about it together. I’d kill to have a husband like you and she just threw it all away? And for what? Have you ever met the guy? Has Jack?” She rants, visibly angry.

“I’ve asked, she won’t tell me,” he answers the last two questions but smiles because of the rest of it. “Thank you… you know, you’re pretty nice to know too.”

“Just pretty nice? I buy you steak and nurse you back to health and I’m just pretty nice?” She teases.

“Fine, I think you’re—“ they’re cut off by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He takes out his phone and see’s JJ’s number. “Where are we headed?”

—

They get pulled out to Royal, Indiana for an arsonist case that’s claimed over 31 bodies so far. Aaron's stress level was already at an all-time high, watching people die again is just making it worse. He’s angry, he’s being a bit of an asshole… he even snapped at Penelope of all people.

And he’s not the only one in this mood, the whole town is pissed. That’s to be expected, they’re losing family and friends and memories to fire. First the rec centre, then the movie theatre and just today, the local bar. The bar fire is the most important to the investigation, seeing as he didn’t go after a larger crowd of victims, which means he’s going after individuals. They just have to figure out which victim it was.

Nancy, the bartender, she lived… she’s just barely hanging on, but still available for questioning. Aaron goes to see her. This is the second time he’s held a woman’s and hand stayed with her while she’s died of extreme burns and smoke inhalation.

At the station, Y/N and Reid are sitting together, going over the victims' lives with Penelope.

“I’m worried about Aaron,” Y/N whispers to their small group.

“He’s going to be okay,” Spencer shrugs it off. “We all have cases that hurt more than others, it sucks for a while but then you either catch the guy or enough time passes that you build some scar tissue and forget about it.”

“What if he never forgets about it? We’ve seen cops go through this. Something happens and they feel so guilty, like if they were there 10 minutes earlier or if they did something different, it eats at them and then they die too,” she whispers, her heart aching for him. “We need to intervene at some point. We can’t let it get worse… what Rossi did- handing him his gun- that only worked because he got embarrassed around a coworker. What happens when he goes home and he’s alone and it all catches up to him? What if he doesn’t show up to work one day and it’s because he’s killed himself? What do we do then?”

Reid gets up and pulls her into a hug, “Hey, hey, don’t think like that.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder and lets out a sigh. “I love him, Spence, I can’t lose him.”

“You loving him is exactly what he needs to stay here,” he reminds her, rubbing her back, soothingly. “Let him know, spend more time with him, get him to talk. You’re good at that. You’re warm and inviting and he’s going to want to tell you things. Listen, keep his secrets and let him know you love him… even if you just tell him it’s friendly, either way, I think he’s going to appreciate it.”

She pulls back and she nods, wiping her tears from her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

“When am I ever wrong?” Spencer teases, trying to make her laugh a little. He succeeds, she giggles and swats his arm lightly. “You know, it’s really nice being friends and going through stuff at the same time… I didn’t think I’d have anyone to talk to when I eventually fell in love.”

Her heart soars for him, “oh, Spence, really? You and Derek?”

He nods, “Yeah…”

“I’m always free to talk whenever you want to,” she reminds him.

“I know,” he smiles. “Now come on, we should call Penelope and at least start a theory before they all return. I don’t want them to think all we did was gossip this whole time.”

—

At the end of the case, they’ve caught a killer but they don’t feel good about it. So many lives were ruined, it could’ve all been avoided years ago if people knew how to treat children kindly… that’s the case for so many of these killers. They’re raised through terrible events in their childhood, events that shaped them into monsters and nothing could stop them from wreaking havoc on a small town just like this.

They take the plane home late that night, she drove in with Aaron so he has to drive her home, too.

It’s a quiet drive. She can tell he’s stuck in his own mind and she wants to ask what’s going on in there but she can’t get the words to come out. Instead, when he pulls up at her apartment, she reaches out for his hand, “Come in with me?”

“Okay,” he agrees quickly.

They barely slept the last few days, scared that their hotel would go up in flames if the arsonist knew they were in town and trying to stop him… so Aaron looks tired. Exhausted, even.

They get out together, she walks around the front of the SUV and he meets her there. She takes his hand and she leads him inside. They kick their shoes off at the door, she helps him out of his suit jacket and hangs it up on the coat hook. He undoes his tie and the first couple of buttons and she smiles, “You want a drink?”

He shakes his head. “I just want to get in bed.”

“Okay,” she doesn’t mind either way. She leads the way down to her bedroom and he’s right there behind her.

He’s been over so much lately that some of his things are still there. She’s done a load of laundry and washed a few of his nightshirts and boxers that he’s left in the bathroom after his morning showers. He always comes out smelling like her shampoo, so she went out and got his usual body wash to keep in there, so she can have his smell back on her sheets. She’s worn his shirt to bed a few times too… she just loves him and when he’s not around she wants to pretend that he is.

She sets out some of his things on the bed while he’s in the bathroom, he has a toothbrush in there too… he could move in if he wanted and she’d be fine with it. More than fine with it. She never wants him to leave.

She changes in her closet, it’s pretty big— a walk-in closet, actually. She hangs up her suit on the “has to go to the dry cleaners” side and changes into her pyjamas before she heads back out into her room.

He’s already changed, standing there in his underwear, looking through her bookshelf, trying to pick out something to read in bed while she watches her show… it’s just what they do.

“What one are you going for tonight?” She asks.

“Hello Sadness,” he says, holding it up for her. “Where’d you get this?”

“Spencer,” she says with a smile. “He said that one is the best translation from the original version. bonjour tristesse.”

“Did you like it?” He asks.

She nods, “It’s good, it’s about a girl and her father who live in France, her dad has been a widower for a long time and his late wife's old friend comes to stay with them. They fall in love and his daughter is scared that everything about her life is about to change… the plot twist at the end is a lot though, you might not like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he smiles at her and makes his way over to her bed. To his side. His phone is already plugged in and resting on that night table and his watch is right beside it. It’s like he’s really made himself a home here.

She climbs in bed beside him, forgetting the TV remote for her little tv over on the dresser… so she snuggles into Aaron's arm and reads along with him. Page after page, they read in tandem, sometimes he even reads parts out loud. Things that caught his eye and stood out to him.

“I have loved to the point of madness. That which is called madness. That which to me is the only sensible way to love,” Aaron whispers.

She hum, barely awake, “I liked that line the first time too…”

“It’s so true,” he says with a sigh.

She just snuggles in more, “You been in love a lot?”

“3 times,” he says, closing the book for the night and placing it on the night table.

“I’d say the same,” she says, including him in the equation.

Aaron turns off the lamp light on his side and the two of them settle down against the pillows in the darkness. “Love is strange.”

“You’re telling me,” she teases.

She rolls to her side and he snuggles into her back, the way they always slept together. “When was the last time you were in love?” He asks, and he sounds hesitant.

Maybe this is the time to tell him. Maybe Spencer was right. Maybe telling him could soothe his soul and make him feel more at ease. Anxiety pools in her stomach and she’s been quiet for too long now… but she says it. “I’ve been in love for a while now. Almost a whole year now, I think?”

“Oh,” he acts like he’s surprised. “I’m sure he’s a lucky man.”

“He is. He’s strong and confident but he’s also soft and sweet. He’s so good to me, he’s so good at his job and he’s a great father too…”

“wait—

She rolls around to face him in the dark. Taking a leap of faith. “I love you, Aaron.”

“Really?” He doesn’t believe her at first.

She nods, reaching out she places her hand on his cheek, barely able to see him in the dark but she can see enough. “Even if you don’t want me to… even if you rather we be friends. I love you.”

“I-I-

“It’s okay,” she cuts him off. “You don’t have to say anything. We can pretend this didn’t happen if you want. I just… I don’t want things to change again. I was so scared in New York, I thought I was losing my best friend and then you got hurt and this thing between us got stronger… and then we went on that little trip. And then I got hurt and—

“You told me you loved me that night,” Aaron whispers. “You were high on the medicine I gave you and you were falling asleep but you said it. I wanted it to be true so bad, but I never said anything.”

“Oh,” she had no idea. Truly never remembered a thing. “Is that why we kept getting closer?”

He nods. “I don’t know how long I’ve loved you.”

Her eyes widen her heart speeds up, “really?”

“Trying to be in charge of hostage rescue knowing you were in there almost killed me,” he whispers. Still affected by it. “Hearing him hurt you… not knowing where you were in the compound… Derek and Dave had to keep reminding me I couldn’t storm the place myself just to get you back.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures her. He rolls back onto his back and pulls her in closer, she rests her cheek on his chest and he holds her hand where it rests on his stomach. He kisses the top of her head. “You’re my best friend too, you know?”

“I figured,” she teases, holding him close, she smiles to herself. It’s hard to believe this is real and she isn’t dreaming. “So what does this mean for us?”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” Aaron whispers. “Not because I’m ashamed or anything… but with The Reaper out there, with him saying he’s going to make my life a living hell, I can’t risk it.”

“We’re going to find him,” she says, confident in the team. “I need you to know that. I need you to believe that this isn’t your fault and I need you to remember that what he does doesn’t fall on your shoulders. No matter what he does.”

“It’s easier said than believed,” he whispers.

She gets off him and reaches over to the lamp on her bedside table, she flicks it on and sits up, staring at him. “I am so scared to lose you over this. After what happened after the bus— with Rossi, and-and after the way you’ve been so withdrawn and honestly… you’ve been kind of a dick to everyone but me, Penelope especially. I can’t have you being mad all the time, I can’t deal with the thought that a case is going to send you over the edge and I’m going to find you dead in your apartment one morning. I can’t do it,” she cries. “I can’t lose you over this.”

“Hey,” he sits up and tentatively puts his hand on her knee. “I’m not going to do anything like that. I promise.” He wipes the tears from her cheeks, “am I disappointed in myself? Yes. Am I going to kill myself over it? No. Never. I’m not going to do that to you or the team or my son. Believe me, I know I’m going to get over this. I know we can catch this guy, but the anticipatory dread I’m feeling, this anxiety, it’s not just going to go away until we catch him. I’m not going to feel okay again until he’s either behind bars or dead.”

“You can talk to me about it,” she reminds him. “Always. I’m never going to push away your feelings or make you feel small. I won’t think less of you or tell your secrets to the others. What we have is special, I’d never break that. I want to be there for you.”

“And that’s why I fell in love with you,” he admits.

Her bottom lip sticks out a bit more as she pouts at him, “Really?”

He nods, “Yes, really… can I kiss you?”

She places her hand on his shoulder and lifts her leg over his lap so she can sit in it, her hands resting on both his cheeks now. “You can kiss me whenever you want to.”

His hands come around to cup her lower back and cradle the back of her head, he pulls her in closer and presses their lips together softly. She never thought she’d get to kiss him… but she has imagined it many times. This is even better than anything she could’ve ever conjured in her mind, alone in the middle of the night.

His lips are soft, his hands are so big and his chest against her own is so inviting. Her hands drop from his cheeks, down his neck, she drags them over his shoulders and then down his strong arms. She feels him up as he kisses her over and over again. Soft pecks at first, he finally licks along her bottom lip, inviting her in for more.

His hand cupping the back of her head comes around to caress her jaw, he traces his fingers down her neck and stops right at the hem of the neckline of her shirt. She pulls back then, breathless and anticipating more, “you can touch me,” she whispers against his lips, stealing more kisses. “You can have me.”

“Have you?” He smirks, trying not to laugh.

“I’m yours now,” she says, feeling drunk on his kiss. “Keep me, touch me, love me, whatever. I’m yours.”

He smiles into another kiss, “All mine you say?” He whispers before kissing her jaw and down her neck. His hand continues down, cupping her breast gently before resting at her side.

She tilts her head back, letting him have more space to kiss… his lips feel so good on her like they were always meant to be there. He starts to go lower, kissing over her shirt, right where her heart would be in her chest. “I want to kiss you everywhere, every last inch of you.”

She reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, “keep going.”

He lays her back against the bed then, her head resting on her pillow, he kneels between her legs and hovers over her. He stares into her eyes for a moment and then starts to look at her naked chest, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she can’t help but smile.

He leans in and kisses her shoulder and all the way down her arm until he grips her wrist and holds her hand to his mouth. He kisses every finger on her right hand and then reaches for her left, doing the same before kissing his way back up to her shoulder. Across her collarbones, down the centre of her chest. He spends equal amounts of time with each boob, making her smile to herself, suppressing a laugh at just how much attention he gives them. But he is a man after all… then he hugs her hips and runs his cheek over her tummy, caressing her gently before he kisses her right beside her belly button and over to her hip.

Loving every inch of her just like he said he wanted to.

She basks in it, the soft touch of his kiss, his calloused hands, his coarse, barely there, beard against her… it's more intimate than anything she’s ever experienced in her life.

This is what love is supposed to be like. She was always meant to be loved by Aaron Hotchner.

He keeps her shorts on, pushing each loose pant leg up to her underwear line to get as much surface area as possible. He kisses all down her thigh, grips under her knee and lifts her leg up to kiss all the way down to her ankles. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for feet…”

He smirks, shaking his head, “I don’t,” he whispers, kissing the side of her foot before laying her leg back down. He grips her at her other ankle, kissing the side of her foot and once again repeating the same pattern as the last leg, just backwards. He gets all the way back up to the hem f her shorts, pushes them up and kisses her underwear line. She sucks in a sharp breath, wishing he’d take a risk and peel her out of her shorts… and then he kisses her right over her shorts, smack-dab in the centre of the mound of her vagina and looks up at her. “Roll over.”

She listens, carefully getting not her stomach, he places a knee on either side of her thighs, boxing her in, and moves her hair over, off her back and to the crook of her neck. He leans in, kissing her one shoulder blade over to the other and then starts down her spine. Once he has her all covered, he wraps a hand under her, holding her close as he presses his body weight onto her. He kisses her shoulder again and then rests his cheek there. “I love you.”

“I love you, more,” she whispers back to him.

He gets off her and lays on his side, facing her. “Are you tired now?” She asks.

He nods. “Can I have just one more kiss?”

She sits up a bit, switches off the lamp and moves in closer to him, rests her hand on his cheek and kisses him softly. Again and again and again until the last thing either one of them remembers before falling asleep is the taste of the other's kiss.

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[spritehouse]

colorful regret

ralvez + past moreid | what used to be mine drabble

⚠️Content Warnings: fighting (verbal), relapsing, panic attacks/flashbacks, referenced past domestic abuse

spencer and luke get in a fight. spencer relapses and luke spirals. (from #2 of this post)

luke hates fighting.

he's a pretty chill guy, usually avoiding conflict, especially when it comes to his close relationships, trying to de-escalate the situation, but sometimes, it's inevitable.

that doesn't make them any better—the shouting, doors slamming, hurtful words yelled across their sanctuary—the inescapability never easing the pain and panic that come with their outbursts.

and the worst part is he understands.

luke knows they're approaching the anniversary of derek morgan's death, that his partner isn't trying to hurt him, just grieving, the date ripping open old wounds that never fully healed, not trying to hurt him, but that doesn't stop the panic rising in his chest, bad memories overlaying their argument.

he knows he should worry about spencer when the younger brunette storms out of their apartment in the middle of the night—he shouldn't be alone right now—but he's too busy attempting to quell the panic clawing at his throat, hands shaking and body trembling as he talks himself down from panic attacks in the bathroom.

no, spencer doesn't mean it, wasn't trying to hurt him, sending luke spiraling, gasping for air the way his ex did, but he did.

there's no damning the floodgates of his memories, a trickle of sensation erupting into a flood of repressed recollection, screaming, shouting, sobbing echoing in his skull.

he gets through the worst of it, still shaking slightly as luke emerges from the bathroom, grounding himself in their apartment as he gets a glass of water, trembling hands gliding across the soft fabric of spencer's favorite blanket on the couch.

he almost manages to fall asleep, waiting for his partner to return, dozing in their living room, fighting to keep nightmares at bay when the front door opens.

"there you are. i was starting to–" luke's face falls when he makes eye contact with spencer, vacant pinpricks staring past him, glossy-eyed as he stumbles into their shared space.

and he knows ptsd isn't logical, that is isn't his fault, that spencer wouldn't blame him if he were sober, but the older man still feels guilty when he flees the room, slamming the bathroom door behind him as he gasps against the hand– her hand around his throat.

he can't breathe, can't think, everything reminding him of her as he staggers to the bathtub, sitting in the porcelain basin as he breaks down, sobs wracking his exhausted body until his vision blurs.

he doesn't remember having his phone in his pocket or dialing a familiar number, pressing his phone to his ear between dry heaves, only aware of his movements when a voice penetrates his panic–

"luke? can you hear me?"

he swallows, choking on a cry as he releases a quiet, affirming hum, hugging his knees to his chest.

"what's wrong, sweetie? are you okay? are you safe?"

"i– it's– he– spe– we got in a fight–" luke stammers between sharp, painful inhales, returning to himself as he forces the words past his lips. "he– he relapsed."

he can hear her shuffling, moving around her house as spencer's aunt springs into action.

"okay. where is he?"

"home– the living room."

"good. now where are you?"

it hits him that she doesn't know about his ex, about the layers of this situation, how he's seeing parts of her in him–

"luke? are you still there?"

"i'm in the bathroom. i– i should be with him, i know–"

"it's okay, luke. focus on yourself right now," her voice is calm and constant, the voice of someone who understands after years as an agent, and comforting. "you did the right thing. okay? i'm a few minutes away. keep yourself safe; i'll take care of spencer. do you hear me?"

"yeah– yes. yeah. i– yeah, got it."

"do you have someone you can call? i'm probably going to take him to my place and i don't want you to be alone right now."

"yeah, i have someone. i'll text them."

"good. that's good, luke. will you stay on the phone with me? i'm almost there."

"yeah, i can do that," luke takes a deep breath, counting the tiles on their bathroom floor. "thank you."

"thank you for calling. are you feeling better?"

"i am, sorry, i–"

"it's okay; you don't have to apologize or explain. i'm honored you felt safe calling me."

he hums in response, melting into the bathtub as he listens to alex drive.

"i'm pulling up right now. okay? i'll be up in a second."

"the door's unlocked."

"thank you, luke."

idk how to finish this scene but i have to go to sleep

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 8 - "how much"

Season 8, episode 18 "Restoration" (It's the one where the team is in Chicago and the unsub was one of the kids molested by Carl Buford, so Morgan is obviously really involved. At the end of the episode, after Derek finds out on the jet that Buford is dead - *yay*)

I have to say a couple things, since apparently if I don't write at least 20 lines of useless information before the actual fic, the Earth threatens to explode: 1) this is kinda obvious, but I always specify the episode and season so if you haven't watched that episode yet you probably shouldn't read the fic cause it may contain spoilers! 2) this is not obvious but highkey useless, I always imagine Reid having long hair (like season 4/5 or maybe a lil shorter), because FOR ME that's his best look (that's why you'll nearly always find expressions like "he tucked his hair behind his ear" even though for ex. in season 9 that wouldn't be possible lmao)

Update: goes unsaid that I partially re-wrote this as well as many others

Read it on AO3

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

"Yes. Uh uh. No I understand, thank you for keeping me posted. I appreciate that."

Silence, following that call. Everybody looking at Morgan, waiting for him to say something - anything really. The look on his face was indecipherable, a mix of relief and uncomfort, and wanting to cry or break something or preferably both.

"...Buford is dead."

That was all he said. Not when, not how.

He kept his look out of the window of the jet, like meeting his friends' eyes could trigger an emotional response way too overwhelming for any of them to handle in that moment.

They all stared at him without making a single sound, not knowing what they were supposed to say, what he was expecting to hear from them. Not even Reid: his eyes remained glued to him for a while, unable to get back to reading his book with that lump in his throat suffocating him.

-

As soon as they got off the jet, Morgan vanished. Everyone thought he'd probably quickly got to his office to pick up his stuff and head home, without talking to anyone. But when the rest of the team entered the bullpen through the glass doors, they saw him, not in his office, but sitting at Reid's desk; elbows on his knees and eyes stuck on the floor.

Reid stopped walking and stared for a while from afar, frozen, deciding what to do; while the others headed to their desks and offices silently, not even able to small talk after what Morgan had announced.

Spencer felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned around.

"He needs you, Spence." JJ's soft voice spoke sense into him. "It only works with you."

That last statement left Spencer a bit confused, but he nodded anyway, replying with a sad but grateful smile as she walked away.

His friend's encouraging words and a few more minutes of waiting were enough for Spencer to finally gather the nerve of walking toward the man.

-

Once he'd approached his own desk, he stood still and carefully looked down at his boyfriend, hunched on himself; waiting for him to notice his presence. But Morgan didn't move a single finger.

"...I thought you ran home." he said, softly.

Derek finally tilted his chin up to face him, straightening a little in his seat: he wasn't crying, but he did look upset. Still: the crack in Spencer's heart couldn't but widen at the damaged look on his usually warm, handsome face.

"Yeah I thought of that, but I- I feel like I need to...talk. To you."

Few seconds of silence.

"You really don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to..." Spencer pointed out a bit nervously.

Derek didn't answer. He just stood up from the chair with his hands in his leather jacket pockets, staring straight into the other's brown eyes, with a look that said: "Please". Spencer answered with a nod.

Except for Hotch and Rossi, both in the former's office, the rest of the team had quickly got home: it was 11:30 pm. As for the other employees, they simply didn't have such a crazy schedule, so the bureau was empty. However, Morgan didn't feel like talking there, so he headed toward his office, Reid following without questioning.

-

Derek closed the door behind him, not bothering about the blinds, nor turning the light on. He sat on the black leather couch in the corner of the room, looking down at the floor as his elbows dug further in the holes they'd already carved earlier in his thighs.

Spencer put his satchel on the floor and stood there, 5 ft from him, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket: he had a feeling it was going to be a few minutes before Derek could feel like talking. But that was ok. That was the point: being there, silently or not.

The complete but slightly discomforting quiet, the dim light pervading the room coming from the bullpen, but most of all the presence of Spencer that made him feel like he was allowed to finally let go, weren't helping Derek from trying not to burst out crying. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and face down in the attempt to avoid that.

He accidentally let out a sniffle that gave Spencer the final clue that he was, in fact, about to cry. He buried his face in his palm, failing to stop the tears from falling any longer: he got "caught", there was nothing left to hide, at that point.

Spencer gulped. Before that, he had admittedly failed to pick up on how uncomfortable his boyfriend must have felt and how serious that situation was. He just wished he had the power to hug him tight and put the outer world on a pause while Derek let himself crumble down into smithereens; and then whisper comforting words in his ear while he fixed him, piece by piece, bit by bit, until he was somewhat whole again.

"Derek..." he murmured, feeling like his knees were wobbling under his weight at the sight of him like...that.

Spencer finally sat down next to him on the couch, not too close neither touching him. He knew the odds of Derek reacting well to physical comfort right after he exposed himself crying were few. He ran the statistics in his mind. Plus, he knew him. So he just sat there.

-

"I don't know why I'm reacting like this to the death of the man who ruined my childhood." Derek finally managed to say, a bit coldly, still eyeing down at the floor.

"I should be happy or at least relieved. That's what you're probably thinking." he added, pulling himself together just enough to find the courage to face Spencer; a deeply concerned but attentive look on his face.

"I'm thinking that you shouldn't beat yourself up for feeling whatever you are feeling right now." he answered reasonably, and quite frankly Derek wasn't expecting it.

Receiving no answer, Spencer continued. "I think," he paused, clearing his voice "I think that there's no right or wrong way for you to feel about it, because..." he paused again, contemplating whether he should mention Buford's name or maybe it was better not to.

"...cause Buford was never just an unsub for you." He mentioned him anyway, but stopped right there, staying vague, without openly addressing the fact that Buford had in some way been a father figure for Derek, when he was a kid. He didn't know how Derek would react to that: if he'd agree and see what his point was; or accuse him of justifying Buford's actions, in a small percentage.

Morgan didn't retort. He knew what Reid meant, and that what he meant made sense; nonetheless he couldn't erase those feelings of guilt and frustration and sickness that were possessing him. He nodded briefly and got back to facing the ground.

Spencer thought that it was the right moment for him to finally touch him without the risk of him flinching back. So he gently put his hand on the back of Derek's neck, stroking it with his thumb and looking at him with sad eyes.

The second Derek felt the comfort of his soft touch, he felt like crying again, like he had pressed some kind of vulnerable button. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, letting out a heavy breath accompanied by a faint whine that he'd been trying so hard to keep buried down in the pit of his lungs.

"He should've rot in prison. What I said to the press gave him a way out." he paused and faced the other way, looking at the empty bullpen through the blinds. "It's- it's like he got what he wanted from me for the millionth time." he concluded, his voice hoarse and shaky.

Spencer understood, from his choice of words - he got what he wanted from me - that he was comparing that to the specific act of the abuse. The way he said it and the change in his demeanor - usually strong, both physically and emotionally - made Spencer's heart ultimately shatter and its fragments fall down to his stomach; and his eyes tingle. But he couldn't let himself go like that - he had to suck it up and support him. That's what Derek needed him to do in that moment; that's what Derek was always ready to do for Spencer, so it was only fair that he at least tried.

Reid switched position from sitting on the couch to kneeling on the floor right in front of him, in between his legs, so that he couldn't avoid his gaze anymore. He cupped his face in his hands to make their eyes meet again.

"You know that's not true." he asserted, pausing to let him process such statement and wiping off with his thumb a tear that managed to escape from one of Derek's eyes.

"He stopped getting what he wanted from you the moment you got out of that block and started becoming the man you are now. Catching people like him."

"He doesn't have to spend the rest of his life in jail now, does he? I did him NOTHING but a favor. And I didn't even notice, just like when I was a kid." Derek instantly blurted out.

"Derek why are you being so naive right now??" Spencer asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He saw the man in front of him imperceptibly flinch at his tone, so he took a deep breath and explained.

"Don't you understand that if you hadn't made that speech to the press, his true identity would've remained secret to everyone? He was counting on restoring his reputation by becoming someone else. You SAW that, Derek." Spencer paused once again to lower his voice further - he didn't wanna come off as aggressive, but he wanted so hard to make him see what his eyes weren't seeing; clouded by his own trauma doubling back to him like a punch in the guts.

"The only person you did NOT do a favor to with what you said, it's him." he concluded.

Derek knew he was right. But - despite him being the one always talking sense into everybody - when it came to the abuse he suffered as a kid there was a small, hidden part of him that just couldn't help but feel guilty and subdued and victimized all over again.

He gently took Spencer's hands, still cupping his face, and put them down, looking at the floor. He felt in some way sorry for him, wasting his time, trying to convince him of the falsity of things that were so deeply rooted in his mind that not even his purest and most unconditional demonstration of love and support could conceal. But he knew it wasn't Spencer's fault and that he in the first place didn't have that kind of demand.

Spencer was hurt, but swallowed the words before they could come out. He figured that gesture meant he had to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing more he could say to him, to make him feel any better.

-

"Is that how I won?" Derek mumbled after a while, his deep voice piercing through the thick silence.

Spencer frowned apprehensively. "What do you mean?"

"I- I won because he died ? Was his death the only possible way for me to find a crumb of...I don't even know, of- of peace ?" Derek explained, looking straight into his eyes again, searching in Spencer's caramel irises for those answers that he already knew but needed someone external to say out loud.

"You won the second you realized you were no longer scared of letting other people know about what he did to you." Spencer replied lucidly, with no hesitation what so ever. "The first time being when you told us, and the second when you told the press. And the third exactly 23 minutes ago, when you chose to wait for me to talk about it instead of going home and closing me out." He paused. "and I honestly don't know how you did any of that but-" he swallowed and waited a second for the courage to say it to arise in him. "but I'm so proud of you I- I don't think you realize how much I am."

Spencer's hand instinctively made its way back to the other's cheek, stroking it with his thumb; uncaring of how it had been rejected earlier.

"You won when you finally understood that you are worth healing." he concluded in an almost whisper; eyes becoming glossy at the slight changes in expression on Derek's face.

Spencer wanted to do more than just brush a digit on his cheek, he wanted to hug him but guessed it wouldn't be the smartest choice. So he just stayed like that, gazing into Derek's eyes, with the other hand resting on his own thigh while his knees started to get sore from being in that position for the past 10 minutes.

-

Derek was speechless. After a seemingly endless silence, he reached his hand out to gently tuck Spencer's hair behind his ear.

"I- I love you. And I don't think you realize how much I do." he finally murmured, with watery eyes, purposely half-quoting what the other had just said.

Spencer's heart melted when he felt his touch and those words coming out so genuinely and uncensored. He slightly tilted his head to lean into such warmth, putting his hand over his and kissing his palm without breaking eye contact.

Derek craned to inch closer and made Spencer do the same by pulling him slowly toward him, with his hand placed on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and softly pushed his lips into his, finally allowing himself to fully seek comfort in his touch.

He shifted forward so that he was sitting on the very edge of the couch, to eliminate whatever inch of air was left between their bodies, letting Spencer's arms slide up his torso and end up wrapping tight around his waist underneath his leather jacket, left unzipped; as if he was afraid Derek would let him go and run away - which he would never do. He would never let him go.

Both his hands on Spencer's jaw, Derek could feel it unhooking, which he took as a silent permission to let his burning tongue find its way into his mouth, melting when it collided with his; sinking in the warmth of only his slim body in a way he didn't know he needed and didn't know he could.

Spencer shifted slightly to lower his head and let it rest on the other's shoulder, nuzzling his nose and lips against Derek's neck; while Derek soothingly ran his fingers through his curls, tilting his own head to lean into the shock of brunette hair.

Spencer slid a hand up front to place it on Derek's chest; slitting a narrow gap between their bodies as a sign to stop, being completely out of air.

They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds; arms still tying them together even if not so breathlessly tight as a few seconds before.

"You scared me." Spencer's whispery words blowing warm air on Derek's skin.

"I know. I didn't mean to." he answered in a heavy sigh; Spencer's head cradled by the up-and-down movements of the other man's chest as he inhaled and exhaled deeply.

-

They stayed like that for a while, for as long as it took Spencer to start wondering what time it was. He gently let go of him - not that he got tired of it - and checked his watch: midnight.

"Wow. It's late." he stood up, helping himself by holding onto Derek's knees. As soon as he got back on his feet, his face wrinkled in a faint grimace of pain.

"Look what you did to me. I can't feel my legs anymore." he said jokingly, realizing only after a couple of seconds that that wasn't the usual context in which he used such phrase...would've been better if he hadn't let that slip out, he thought.

"Alright. My place? Is that enough to make it up to you or your legs?" Derek asked mockingly as he stood up too, finally showing him that smile of his that Spencer was starting to miss like oxygen in his lungs; confirming that his previous - stupid - comment had either gone unnoticed or hadn't bothered him that much after all.

Even though Spencer was definitely not one to like change, he clearly preferred staying at his boyfriend's place rather than his own. His house was more comfortable and obviously way less messy, but those were just a couple of superficial reasons, he himself couldn't quite put his finger on it - despite his profiling skills, which just gave him answers that didn't sound accurate enough in his heart.

After a few seconds of hesitation - not due to indecision, rather to the brief short-circuit his brain was put through when he saw Derek's blinding smile - he grinned back and nodded, picking up his bag while the other opened the door.

-

Right in the moment they got out of the room, they saw that Rossi had just exited the bullpen, heading to the elevator. God knows what kind of conversation had taken him so long with Hotch, still in his office and probably not even halfway with all the paperwork.

During those couple minutes Derek took to search for the office keys in his pockets and lock the door; Spencer stared at him, leaning with his shoulder on the wall, fiddling with the buckle of his leather satchel.

Derek put the keys back in his biker jacket pocket and raised his eyes to look at him.

"...What?" he asked, feeling his gaze on him.

"Nothing." Spencer answered shaking his head and dropping his eyes, standing straight again.

He tried not to smile, not only failing but moreover making Derek slightly smile too, even being yet clueless to what he was going to be told.

"I love you too."

[spencermyangel]

Could you do one where Spencer was raped in prison.

CW - Rape, PTSD

Spencer walked into his apartment after going shopping, noticing shoes by his door. He furrowed his brows, had one of the team come to visit? Still, he cautiously ventured further into his apartment, regretting leaving his gun at home. It was then he noticed a figure sitting on his living room chair. 

“Hey, Reid,” the man turned to greet him with a kind smile. 

But Spencer didn’t register that. All he saw was the bald head, strong eyebrows, large muscles, and dark skin. His heart rate sped up as panic gripped him and he was plunged into a flashback. Why was Hart here? How did he get out of prison? Did he escape? 

“No, please,” Spencer whimpered, pressing himself into the corner of the room. Hart approached him, and Spencer curled up into a ball. He flinched away as he felt hands touch his arms. “Please don’t,” Spencer looked at the man with pleading eyes, “I can’t deal with it again… I’ll do anything, just please don’t,” he begged. He dropped his head back down and began to sob into his knees. 

“What?” the deep voice asked, confusion evident, “Reid, why would I hurt you? It’s me, Morgan.” 

Spencer looked up and instead of the cold, determined eyes, full of lust. There was Morgan’s kind dark eyes staring back at him, his concern shining through them. 

“Mor…Morgan?” Spencer stuttered, still tense and scared. 

“That’s right, it’s me,” Morgan assured him, seeming to understand some of what was going on. He knew Spencer had most likely had a flashback. It broke Morgan’s heart that after everything Spencer had gone through, he had to deal with the trauma of prison too. He was too soft and sweet for that. Morgan couldn’t even begin to imagine the fear and pain he must have gone through. 

“Are you okay, Reid?” 

Spencer curled into himself, even more at the sound of his last name leaving Morgan’s lips. “Don’t call me that, please,” he begged. 

“Okay, I won’t,” Morgan agreed, not even requesting an explanation. “Spencer, do you want to tell me what happened? If you don’t want to, that's fine too.” 

Spencer wearily studied Morgan’s face. On one hand he felt so much shame for what had happened, especially because it was his fault. If he hadn’t gone to Mexico, if he hadn’t been so stupid, none of this would have happened. But on the other, he felt like he was suffocating, having no one to talk to about this and maybe Morgan would understand. Maybe he could help him. 

“I…” Spencer began, struggling to get the words out, “in prison there was an inmate named Xavier Hart.” Spencer shuddered at the name, causing Morgan to squeeze his shoulder as he patiently listened. “He looked kind of like you… actually a lot like you,” Spencer admitted. 

“Did he… hurt you in some way?” Morgan gently asked. Spencer nodded in response. “Did he beat you up? Emily told me you were beaten in prison.” 

Spencer shook his head, tears streaming down his face. 

“Then what did he….” Morgan cut himself off as he looked into Spencer’s eyes. At the unbelievable amount of pain and shame in them, and he just knew what had happened. “No,” he whispered, closing his eyes in frustration. How could this have happened? His little brother, had been raped in prison. Where he shouldn’t have even been. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer sobbed, “I know it’s my fault, if I hadn’t been so stupid and gone to Mexico. If I was stronger in prison, it wouldn’t have happened. 

“No!” Morgan almost shouted, causing Spencer to flinch, eyes wide in fear. Morgan sighed and pulled Spencer towards him, he began to softly pet his curls. “I’m sorry, Spencer. But you have nothing to apologize for. This was in no way your fault and you don’t need to be ashamed. You were only trying to help your mother, you did nothing to deserve or cause this to happen to you. Do you hear me?” 

Spencer was silent for what seemed like a minute before he softly whispered, “yes.” 

“Good,” Morgan mumbled, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s hair. Morgan held Spencer until he fell asleep, exhausted from his flashback. He looked at his younger friend’s sweet and innocent face, and wondered how the world could be so cruel to such a kind and pure person.

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[spencerlouis]

Moreid or Ralvez with chubby Spencer. The couple get into a fight and luke/morgan goes to far and insults Spencers weight?

Morgan and Spencer had gotten into a huge fight, and it quickly dissolved into just yelling insults at each other, neither even really remembered or cared about why the fight started. The insults started off with things that could be easily forgiven, like not liking how messy the other one was. But Morgan soon took it too far. 

“You think I like being woken up by you every morning so you can go running?” Spencer glared at Morgan. 

Before Morgan could think of how hurtful the words were, they were tumbling out of his mouth, “well, maybe you should give working out a try. Do you honestly think I like having a fat pig crushing me when we cuddle? Or seeing your tubby belly jiggle?”

Spencer instantly went silent, his eyes filled with hurt and shame. His thoughts quickly began running wild, Morgan had always held him close and even put him on top of him when they cuddled, despite Spencer’s protests, and now he felt his fears were validated. He was too heavy for Morgan to cuddle and hold. He wondered how many times they had been cuddling or Morgan had picked him up and he was hurting Morgan because he weighed too much.

Spencer wrapped his arms around his middle, trying his best to hide it from view, he knew the red cardigan he was wearing had a tendency to make his belly more prominent. Morgan had always assured him it was cute, but now he felt like he had lied to him. He felt so much shame for his body at that moment, he honestly just wished he could disappear. 

Morgan watched in horror as Spencer seemed to shrink in on himself, insecurity etched onto his face. 

“Spence?” He walked over to him, his voice gentle, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Spencer simply shrugged and avoided Morgan’s eyes. “Pretty boy, really. I didn't mean it and I never should have said it, I need you to understand that.” Morgan placed his hands on Spencer’s plush sides, his heartbreaking when he flinched away. Morgan wished there was anything he could do to take back what he said, especially because he knew his boyfriend would be able to recall it in perfect detail thanks to his eidetic memory. 

“It’s okay, I know,” Spencer murmured. Morgan cupped his chubby cheeks and studied his face, hoping he truly did understand Morgan had only said that in the heat of the moment. 

It became apparent over the next few weeks that was not the case. Spencer had always been somewhat self-conscious of his weight but overtime he seemed to believe Morgan did, at least like his body. But now he was acting more insecure than when they first started dating. He wouldn’t let Morgan hold him, and would always make sure he wasn’t putting too much of his weight on him when they cuddled. He had also taken to wearing baggy clothes and more layers, he was sucking in his stomach. Morgan felt awful, but he didn’t know how to fix what he had done. 

~

Garcia's fingers were flying across her keyboard when she heard the door open. She spun around in her chair, smiling when she saw Morgan.

“What did I do to deserve a visit from my chocolate thunder?” She asked, flirtatiously as always. 

Morgan sighed and sat in a spare chair, “Hey, baby girl. Actually I need your advice on something.”

“And what would that be?”

“Spencer.”

Garcia's brows furrowed in confusion, “What about Spencer?”

Morgan looked away, ashamed, “we got into a fight, and I said some things I didn’t mean. We’ve made up but I can tell he’s still hurt by what I said.”

“What did you say?” 

“I said…” Morgan hesitated, hoping Garcia wouldn’t get too angry with him, “I said some things about his body… more specifically his weight.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped, and protectiveness flashed in her eyes, “what did you say about my baby genius’ cuddly body?” she questioned, defensively. 

Morgan bit his lip, “I said he crushed me when we cuddled and that I didn’t like seeing his tummy jiggle,” Morgan told her, his voice then getting quieter, “I called him a fat pig.”

Garcia gasped, “Morgan… you know I love you but that is really cruel. You know Spencer is insecure about his size.”

“I know!” Morgan exclaimed, “I didn’t mean it. I love his body, including all his soft and jiggly parts. I just don’t know how to make it up to him, how to make him feel better.”

Garcia leaned forward, a frustrated look on her face, “The only thing I can really tell you is to show him how much you love his body. But it can take years to improve body image, and just so you know, I’m helping for Spence, not for you.”

Morgan nodded in acceptance, “I know, I just want to help him feel better.”

That night they were eating dinner, Spencer pushing his food around as eating in front of Morgan was another thing he was insecure about.

“Pretty boy, eat your food,” Morgan tried, “we don’t want you to lose those curves, do we?” 

Spencer glanced at Morgan and shrugged, “maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.” Morgan sighed but decided to try again when they were getting ready for bed.

“Spence,” Morgan came up behind him when he was putting his shirt on, kissing his neck and squeezing his tummy chub. Spencer stiffened and tried to suck his belly in.

“Don’t do that,” Morgan told him, gripping onto his love handles, “want to feel you, all of you.”

Spencer blushed at this, flustered, “are you sure? I mean…” he trailed off, looking at his chubby body.

Morgan’s eyes hardened, “yes, I’m sure. Come on, I want to cuddle.” Before Spencer could respond Morgan picked him up and carried him to their bed. 

“M-morgan!” Spencer protested, “you shouldn’t carry me like that, I’m too heavy.”

Morgan gave him a sad look, “you’re never too heavy, you’re perfect.” 

Spencer flushed as Morgan began peppering his tummy with kisses, paying extra attention to his pudgiest parts.

“You know how much I love this,” Morgan said, squeezing the fullest part of his belly, “and these,” he added, gripping his thick thighs. “And you have to know how much I love your adorable face, pretty boy.” He kissed each chubby cheek and then glided his hand over Spencer’s slight double chin. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Spencer avoided Morgan’s eyes, “really?” and Morgan’s heart broke at the insecurity that filled Spencer’s voice. 

“Yes, really,” Morgan whispered in his ear, before looking in his eyes, “Spencer, I adore your body. I never should have said what I did, I didn’t mean it and regret it so much. I miss feeling your body and having your weight on me when we cuddle, it’s comforting. I know this doesn’t fix what I’ve said but I want you to know how sorry I am, and how much I did not mean those hurtful things I said.” Spencer studied his face as he spoke and after, seeing genuinity etched on his features. 

“You’re right it doesn’t fix everything,” Spencer began, Morgan looking down sadly, “but I believe you when you say you didn’t mean it,” he murmured pressing into Morgan’s side. 

Morgan smiled at the feeling of his boyfriend's soft body, “I promise to show you everyday how much I love you.” At that Spencer gave him a shy but genuine smile, and that night, Morgan was relieved when Spencer totally relaxed when cuddling him. He knew Spencer’s insecurities, even the ones caused by his words were not fixed but he knew it was a start.

If anyone wants to send me chubby Louis Tomlinson or chubby Spencer Reid concepts or ideas you can. The only thing I don’t want is anything with full on s3x and outright f33derism. Any ship is fine as well.

Also feel free to ask me questions as long as they are respectful

Send me chubby Spencer requests :)

[vole-mon-amour]

5x09. Spencer with a cane (his cane handle having a shape of a crow or a toucan makes me think of Kaz Brekker). Spencer in a cosy sweater. Spencer pulling faces. Spencer with a gun visible. Spencer's posture. I love it when Spencer.

[thewistlingbadger]

Sleep tight, don't fight.

Summary: Morgan hasn't lived in Las Vegas for that long and he already was a popular kid and he already had a boyfriend. But he was also already getting into fights, and Spencer is getting tired of always having to clean up the aftermath.

CW: mentions of blood, Derek got beat up, Spencer cleans his wounds, hurt/comfort, highschool au, fluffy, super short, Spencer Reid cursing, Derek being a stubborn bitch who will do anything for his boyfriend.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37558279

"Thank fuck" Spencer sighed while closing his door. His mom had an episode and at long last, he was finally able make it to his room. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, having just gotten out of the shower, and yawned. As he grabbed his pajama pants from the drawer, he heard a thud at the window.

He whipped around to see what the noise was. He pulled on his pants and scrambled towards the window.

"What the hell, Derek what are you doing here it is so late does your mom know you're here what's going on-" he yanked Derek inside causing both of them to crash onto the carpet floor. When they both got up, the answers to Spencer's questions looked him dead in the face.

He couldn't tell outside but in the light, it was very clear that Derek was covered in bruises and blood. Spencer let out an irritated sigh as he told the other boy to sit on his bed. Spencer came back with a first aid kit and a couple of ice packs.

The more wounds Spencer cleaned up, the more his anger began to burn. What made him fume even more was that while he was lecturing Derek's ears off, he wasn't even looking at him, let alone paying attention.

"You need to be more careful Derek! How many times do I have to tell you the same shit? How many times are you gonna come to me all bloody and broken? I keep telling you that one of these days you're not gonna come out of it so okay. One day this shit's gonna send you to the hospital- or worse, you hear? And then what's gonna happen to me? I- i can't loose you Derek." Spencer said defeatedly.

At the detection of sadness, Derek looked at Spencer. "I'm sorry." His voice hoarse. He grabbed Spencer's hands and rubbed them lovingly. "I'm sorry" he repeated desperately. Spencer sat on Derek's lap and wrapped his legs around his boyfriend's waist, giving him a big hug. He made sure to be careful, to avoid bruises.

"I know you're strong Derek. I know you have abs I know you're on almost every sports team at the school. You don't need to do this every damn time." He sucked in a breath as his voice broke. "You have a brain damn it. You get straight A's. Why do you act so stupid?" Spencer heard his boyfriend laugh into his neck. "It's not funny Morgan-" "I know", He simply said.

Because he did know. He knew that his sisters were asleep right now and his mom was at work. He knew that Spencer was able to yell as loud he wanted to at Derek because his mom was a hot mess, to say the least. He knew that he was popular in school even though he was the new kid and Spencer, who had lived there all his life, was getting shoved into lockers every damn day. And he hated it. He hated how in his heart, he felt like Spencer was his other half and yet there were treated oppositely at school. It didn't matter how many times Derek came in to save Spencer's day, Spencer was still treated like shit and Derek was treated like a god damn hero.

"Was defending your honor." He sniffled into his pretty boy's neck. He didn't even realize that tears were rolling down his cheeks. He held on to him tighter. Spencer sighed again. "My 'honor' is not worth you getting hurt okay?" He grabbed the other boy's chin so he can see his face. "You don't see me picking a fight with every bully in school do you?" Derek chuckled at the thought of Spencer fighting and rested his forehead on Spencer's. He looked like a pipe cleaner with eyes, he could barely stand straight without loosing his balance. Could you imagine what he would look like swinging at someone?

But the silly image didn't stop his tears from shamelessly departing his eyes. Spencer kissed Derek's forehead then caressed the sides of his face. "You wear your heart on your sleeve baby and that's what makes you different from everyone else. But it also makes you an easy target. It makes it easier for them to push your buttons and get hurt." He wiped his boyfriend's tears away.

"It's you and me against the world." He hummed against Derek's ear. "Just you and me."

He said it as though it was meant only for the both of them. Their little secret. Derek smiled in content, leaning into the hand that was cupping his face.

"Yeah and anyone who tries to fuck with you, I'll knock their teeth out." He grumbled. Spencer scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The two had become very comfortable in their cuddly positions and it was still very late at night. "You gonna stay the night or are you going back home, because if you're staying you need to call your mom to let her know you're here." He said quietly into his boyfriend's hoodie.

"Mm-hmm" was all Derek could manage as he got out the bed to call his mom.

By: Mic

[reiding-rainbow]

anybody have any fic recs? can be spencer/reader, reidaway (A.K.A. spencelle), or moreid. and feel free to self-promo. fluff, smut, or anything in between. I prefer shorter fics usually unless they really engage me. if there’s smut, I prefer vanilla or sub!spencer (or somewhere in between). also i love domestic stuff and hurt/comfort. but not too whumpy.

[thesiriusmoon]

Do you love me?

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Derek Morgan

Characters: Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan

Summary: picture below

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: I’ve been out of the writing game for a little while so I hope this is alright! I like the idea of Derek being the one being taken care of because the majority (all) of things I’ve read have been Spencer, so I was really excited to get going with this!

Edit: this was my first ever CM fic, go easy on me!😅

Requested by @thewistlingbadger 💕

After the fortnight long case in Texas, the BAU had finally landed back in Quantico and were dying to let loose. The most common way to do that was to go to the bar downtown that was fairly familiar with the agents faces now, well- the droopy eyed and flushed cheeked agents that is.

With Spencer’s head resting on Derek’s lap, Derek had asked Spencer on the plane if he’d be joining the rest of the team for drinks, but he had declined. Instead he would much rather go back to their apartment and bury himself under a pile of warm blankets while the tv plays quietly in the background to comfort him into a well deserved sleep.

Spencer wasn’t a drinker anyways, he never saw the point in it. He didn’t understand why someone would want to not have control over their body, their thoughts, or even their emotions. Derek on the other hand thought it was great. Losing the feeling in his legs made him forget about their cases and let him feel free from the troubles in the world. It was a peaceful numbing. Sure Spencer would join the team most nights, but tonight his bed was calling for him and who was he not to answer?

So when the jet came to a stop, Derek kissed Spencer goodbye before they headed their opposite ways. Spencer to the cosy apartment where he’d make himself instant noodles and not have to worry about some drunken stranger touching him, and Derek to the loud bar where there would hardly be a centimetre between hot and sweaty bodies.

Just like he had planned, with an empty cup of noodles and another cup of jelly in the kitchen bin, Spencer was drowning in one of Derek’s large T-shirt’s while Doctor Who played quietly on volume 4 in their bedroom. The T-shirt gifted Spencer Derek’s leather scent that soothed him into a peaceful state while being alone.

Outside, the sky was pitch black, dotted with the shining stars and full moon. Turning his head towards the window, Spencer could see the Orion constellation looking back down on him. He loved space! Without a second though he had rolled over to his side to tell Derek all about the hunter Orion and his dogs, only to be met with cold, empty sheets. The spark in his chest faded away.

With a deep sigh, Spencer turned his attention back to the night sky, and felt himself longing and wishing for Derek to hurry up and drag himself home to him. Sleeping after a case in general could be rather difficult, but with Derek by his side Spencer would be out like a light in the older mans arms. Despite that, he did hope that Derek was cooling off well, it was just a slight shame the two of them had conflicting methods of relaxing.

After a little while more of watching Doctor Who, Spencer’s ears twitched as the sound of the front door shut, rather loudly- but that was expected of a drunk person who was trying their hardest to be quiet. Derek was finally home, and Spencer was anticipating his arrival to their bedroom so he could finally rest with peace and forget about their case. Even with all of these blankets, nothing could ever compare to Derek’s large arms holding Spencer to his thick chest that acted like another pillow for him to fall asleep on.

Not only that, but Spencer was a typically cold person who was always wrapped up in a scarf or a jumper, while Derek was the opposite. His body just radiated heat. Derek was the perfect cuddle buddy when it came to those cold and snowy winter nights that froze the tips of Spencer’s fingers and nose, and of course when it came to comforting the younger man.

Still laying in bed, Spencer glanced at their clock and noted that Derek had arrived 34 minutes and 26 seconds ago… Normally it didn’t take much time at all for Derek to go to bed once he arrived home from the bar. The man would have a quick shower, get a glass of water, then meet Spencer where he’d dress and climb into bed. Straining his ears, Spencer realised that he hadn’t heard the shower turn on in all the time Derek had been home, in fact, he couldn’t hear anything.

That’s what worried him. A drunk Derek meant a careless and playful man who would climb a mountain just for fun, so maybe he’d wandered out of the apartment to go for a stagger, or more hopefully- some fresh air instead, but what if something was wrong? He swore the front door hadn’t opened again.

The blankets Spencer cocooned himself in dropped to the floor as he wriggled his way out, and while rubbing his tired eyes, dragged himself out of the bedroom and down the hall to where he found Derek sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, bent over his legs in the dimly lit living room. The top of his shirt left unbuttoned revealing his sweaty collar bone, and his tie no where to be seen which wasn’t unusual. Almost every time they went out drinking after a case, Derek’s tie magically disappeared and they had to go shopping for new one.

“Hey, tough night?” Spencer chuckled, assuming Derek had went a little overboard in the drinking and was deeply regretting his decision as a headache sank in.

Though, when Derek lifted his head to face the wall, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of watery eyes.

He’d seen Derek cry before, multiple times. They always told one another what was bothering them so they could chat and cuddle their worries away, but Derek had been sitting out here for a rather long time alone, not bothering to go to Spencer at all.

“Sweetie what’s wrong?” Concern flooded Spencer’s entire body feeling like ice. Derek refused to look his way, biting down on his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling, and keeping his eyes directly on a slight crack of the wallpaper which he ought to fix now coming to see it.

Not wanting him to get up and leave, Spencer took a small step forward to test the waters, but retreated immediately as Derek shuffled away uncomfortably.

“It’s stupid.” Derek’s dry voice cracked as he let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. If the apartment wasn’t as silent as it was, Spencer never would have been able to hear him.

Spencer felt his heart sink looking at the sullen face of the man he loved most in the world, and even more so to think that he hadn’t came to him, was he feeling that low? That low that even Spencer couldn’t make things better? “Nothing you can say to me is stupid honey… you can tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen at the bar?” Spencer’s mind immediately jumped to the worst things imaginable. He should have went to the bar too… he shouldn’t have left Derek without him…

Derek sniffled and lowered his head into his hand yet again, his forehead resting on his palm and his eyes directed down at the floor where tears began soaking the carpet.

A small gasp of surprise left Spencer’s mouth, and he couldn’t stay away any longer.

“Hey… please tell me what’s wrong, I hate seeing you upset baby.” Spencer soothed and dropped himself to his knees to wrap an arm across Derek’s back, hoping his touch would provide some sort of comfort if his words wouldn’t.

The strong smell of alcohol had him forcing down a gag, Spencer hated it, but seeing Derek like this, he’d cross rivers and mountains just to make sure he was alright.

The two stayed in the position of Derek sitting with Spencer’s lanky arms around his buff body for a couple of seconds before the bigger man moved away.

Derek softly pushed himself out of Spencer’s arms and with a wobbly effort, stood up to put a distance between himself and the younger. He most definitely wasn’t sober. But, Spencer couldn’t blame him. Dealing with what they deal with will take a large toll on someone and in the end all you want to do is forget.

“Spencer…” The way Derek said his name had him on edge. It wasn’t happy, it wasn’t loving, it was sad… depressing even. Spencer was used to being called ‘pretty boy’, ‘Spence’, ‘baby’. ‘Spencer’ was left for moments with a lot of feeling. He used it when he tells Spencer he loves him, when he’s upset, or in serious discussions with the rest of the BAU.

Had he done something wrong? Did Derek not want him to be around?

The younger man waited as patiently as he could for Derek to continue, wringing his sweaty hands together. “What is it?” He encouraged Derek who took a deep breath.

“Do you really love me?” Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Or do you… just put up with me? You could have someone so much smarter than me… someone who’s on your level and can relate to the things that you say. I’m just some guy. I’ll always just be s-some guy I’m not special I’m not-“

“Hey, slow down alright?” Spencer hushed Derek who was stressing just a couple feet away from him, hands behind his head, tears in his eyes, breath heavy. “Derek baby I’m right here.” The younger mans voice was so soft you could fall asleep on it as he held his hands over his chest, protecting the heart that was falling apart at the sight in their living room.

“B-but you-“

“I love you Derek Morgan.” Spencer stated strongly, not allowing Derek to talk down on himself any further.

“I really do trust me.” He couldn’t have meant those words any more. The love he had for Derek could never be beaten, he meant everything to Spencer. To see someone you love so sad and doubtful over their own worth killed him, and he needed Derek to know just how much he truly needed and wanted him.

Derek wiped his eyes and distracted himself with the outside of their window, eyeing the bird house Spencer pleaded that he build so they could have ‘wild pets’ and feed them whenever they visit. He hadn’t wasted in any in getting to work.

“Baby look at me… please” Spencer begged quietly, and Derek hesitatingly turned around, their glossy eyes meeting for a split second. The sadness in Derek’s eyes faded for a moment, but came rushing back out of regret for being so stupid, so here he was further doubting his ability to love and be loved by Spencer.

The birds came back into view as he felt the same. Derek hated others see him cry, and right now there were tears escaping the corners of his eyes at a quick rate, and he couldn’t get a single word out because of the sobs bubbling in his throat ready to burst the second he opens his mouth.

With his feet moving on their own, Spencer stopped just a couple of inches away from Derek, and gently cupped the mans cheek with his palm, redirecting his face to his own. With his thumb, he swiped away the wet stream on his lovers face that glistened via the moonlight outside. Derek instinctively felt himself lean into the comforting touch. Spencer’s hand was safe. It was soft and inviting. No matter how he was feeling right now, the simple gesture would tell him that Spencer cared.

“Derek…” Spencer whispered while his thumbs rubbed circles into Derek’s cheeks.

The older man listened without a word.

“I love you. I really do. I still remember the first time we met too, it’s one of the most important dates for me. It was September second, two-thousand-and-four, at exactly nine pm. I had just started working in the B.A.U and you said to Gideon-“

“W-who’s the scrawny kid.” Derek’s brittle voice almost laughed as more tears spilled from his eyes and his breath hitched.

Spencer felt his lips turn upwards into a fond smile looking into Derek’s warming brown eyes.

“That was it exactly. I thought to myself, who is this guy? But as I got to know him I began realising that I was falling in love with him. I fell in love with his passion for his work, putting others before himself, and saving lives left right and centre. I fell in love with how caring he is, how he’s always been there for me if I’m feeling down and taking care of the victims he saves. God Derek- I fell in love with everything about you! I-I’m so sorry that this is how you feel… I want you to know that you’re so important to me, and that I’m never going to stop telling you until my last breath.”

Now Derek’s tears had a whole other meaning. They were happy… touched… loved.

“I-I’m sorry I just-“

Spencer shushed him quietly, he knew, and Derek fell forward and crashed into his chest. The alcohol smell was the furthest of his worries, it was practically non existent at this moment.

Spencer’s arms wrapped around him immediately, allowing Derek to let everything out, because he knew from experience that holding in tears can sometimes only make things worse, even once the situation was resolved.

For a while they just stood in each other’s arms, hearing each other’s heartbeat and breaths become steady. Spencer rubbing circles into Derek’s back until the older had relaxed and was almost asleep on his shoulder.

“Hey baby?” Spencer asked and heard Derek hum tiredly. “Feeling any better?” To which he felt his lover nod his head. Spencer smiled, pecking Derek’s forehead before he pat his back for him to come back up.

With Derek now standing without tears, Spencer smiled, “now you better go get in the shower and sober up, I’ve got blankets and a soft mattress with your name on it love.” And felt lighter seeing Derek grin.

A hint of embarrassment still hid behind his eyes, but they could get passed that. The amount of times Spencer’s cried to Derek or had a meltdown with Derek by his side had far more tally marks than Derek even tearing up.

Spencer was just glad he could be there. To hold Derek, to whisper that everything would be alright, and most importantly, to love him.

Later when Derek entered the bedroom, Spencer opened his arms widely for the other to dive into, and greeted his partner with a loving kiss.

“God it’s good to be home.” Derek muffled into Spencer’s neck, and the younger man immediately snuggled closer to the added warmth of another body.

“Couldn’t agree more handsome.” Spencer groaned tiredly, letting himself finally embrace rest now that Derek was by his side.

They really were two peas in a pod.

Doctor Who switched off, and before the couple drifted off to sleep, Spencer mumbled tiredly, “I love you Derek Morgan.” From the position of laying his head on top of the older mans chest.

“I love you too pretty boy.” Derek hummed, running his fingers through Spencer’s curls, gently caressing his head.

Derek knew he wasn’t alone anymore. His drunken state had released a vulnerable side to him, and to call him lucky to have Spencer would be an understatement. The man he loved most in this world was right here with him, snoozing soundly- half on top of him- and Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.

[spencerreidisautistic]

staying up till midnight reading moreid hurt/comfort is a good idea, actually

[gxenbev]

Spencer’s Hair

Summary: Spencer Reid has always been soothed when people played with his hair. Especially when that someone was Derek Morgan.

Spencer couldn’t really explain it, but there was something so incredibly therapeutic about having someone play with his hair.

Spencer couldn’t really explain it, but there was something so incredibly therapeutic about having someone play with his hair.

When he has little and his mother was having one of her good days, she would run her fingers through his hair while she read to him in an attempt to keep herself grounded. That’s when he started to really enjoy the sensation. Those were his best childhood memories- laying beside his mother while she read him his favorite Sherlock story. It had always been A Scandal in Belgravia. Diana frequently told him that when he met the right girl, she should remind him of Irene Adler. He scoffed at the time, but what other reaction was a seven-year-old supposed to have?

Nobody played with his hair again until he got to college. He was fourteen, almost fifteen at the time, and in the middle of his years at CalTech. Spencer avoided social contact like the plague. College kids were particularly menacing when they weren’t babying him. He didn’t really have the opportunity to do normal college kid activities. He couldn’t drink, parties were a no-go, and no normal college student wanted a fourteen-year-old to be a part of their social life.

He eventually made friends. He had a simple friend group, though he’d describe them more as acquaintances who he sometimes shared Advanced Engineering homework with. He liked them okay, and he could keep up with the conversation just fine, with the exception of the occasional sarcastic comment.

They persuaded him to hang out in their dorms every so often, and Spencer absolutely despised the idea. He obliged anyway with a little encouragement from his mother’s daily letters, reminding him to make friends.

To this day, Spencer would never be able to describe what got into him that night. His best guess was he felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and desire to hang out with these people who he finally considered friends before they graduated.

He arrived at his friend’s dorm at the exact time she told him, calculating to the nearest second the amount of time he’d need to get dressed and walk to the building before arriving. When his friend Eliza opened the door, he could smell the overwhelming scent of alcohol drifting from the dorm room. He wanted to turn around and leave, but his obviously tipsy friend had already grasped his arm and was pulling him inside.

There weren’t a lot of people there, just the friends he typically hung out with. Spencer felt comforted by this, but it didn’t do too much to ease his nerves when he glanced at the bottles crowded on the little desk. When offered a drink, he turned it down, knowing too much about the effects of underage drinking and would gladly inform anyone he thought might need a lesson. But these were his friends and being the only sober one there was starting to make him uncomfortable. He didn’t think he could leave, not without having to explain why to a drunk Eliza. So, the next time he was offered a red solo cup, he hesitantly took it.

Looking down at the foreign liquid in his cup, Spencer knew this was going to be a bad idea. Every part of his brain told him not to drink it, but he took a sip anyway. He knew he was a lightweight, but how bad could one sip be?

Having finished the cup, he realized how bad one sip could be. Halfway through his drink, he wondered why he’d never done this before. It was thrilling, exciting, fun. His fuddled brain was finally calm. There were no random facts and concerns circling his mind anymore.

Upon reaching the end of his drink, he decided this was miserable and he’d never ever drink again. Spencer couldn’t even comprehend all the different emotions he went through during one drink. He felt that if he moved his head an inch, the entire contents of his stomach would come up.

Now being the drunkest of all his friends, they decided it was time to cut him off. Not that he’d take another drink if offered. Eliza put a steady hand on his back and he cautiously leaned into it. He kept his eyes clenched shut and tried to make the world stop spinning.

“You gonna make it, Spence?” she whispered in his ear.

Spencer nodded carefully but the movement only made him feel worse. He only had a split second to think before he was bolting out of his seat and stumbling to the toilet. He barely made it in time before everything in his stomach was coming up. He gagged, trying to get it all out while in immense pain. Much to his embarrassment, Eliza was right behind him, holding his hair back and rubbing a comforting hand up and down his spine.

Spencer gagged some more, the last of it landing in the toilet, before choking up some bile and finally easing himself away from the toilet seat. He leaned against the wall and willed every noise to stop. He wanted quiet darkness and for everything to stop spinning.

Eliza sat with her back against the wall next to him and guided Spencer’s head so that it was resting on his shoulder. He appreciated the gesture and completely melted when her fingers started combing through his curls. He sighed, imagining it was his mom playing with his hair while reading Sherlock Holmes. He liked it, he liked it a lot. The stress started to wear off the longer he sat with Eliza, and pretty soon he felt himself drifting off.

Spencer awoke in the morning, lying on Eliza’s bed while she was nestled under a blanket on the floor. Spencer deduced he was most likely carried back and decided it would be okay to walk back to his own dorm now. He stands up and immediately notices the deep ache in his head, but the world is not spinning anymore. He finds the Advil in the bathroom and trudges through the pain back to his own room. He didn’t drink for the rest of his college days.

That was the last time someone played with his hair until he started dating Derek.

Derek’s love language was affectionate nicknames and affectionate touches and Spencer loved every part of it. He loved it when Derek took his hand and called him Pretty Boy. He loved it when Derek pulled his feet into his lap while he watched football and Spencer read. He loved when Derek answered his phone calls with, “hey angel,” or “baby, sugar, or hon.” He loved it when Derek rubbed his shoulder when he looked tense or nervous. But more than anything, he loved when Derek lovingly played with his hair.

Derek first noticed Spencer’s delighted reaction to having his hair touched in the first couple of weeks of their relationship. Derek would ruffle his hair when he walked by and Spencer would provide him with the most heartwarming grin possible.

It was a few months into their relationship when Spencer suffered an unusual bout of air sickness on the jet ride back to Quantico. Derek laid down on the long bench in the jet and pulled Spencer against his chest, keeping one hand on his stomach and the other hand in his hair.

The moment Derek’s fingers started carding through his hair, Spencer’s muscles relaxed and sighed with contentment.

“That okay, pretty boy?” he asks.

Spencer nods. “More than okay.”

So Derek keeps playing with his hair, untangling the knots as he goes along. Spencer’s hair is soft, softer than he realized before. And it smells really good, which is a cliche Derek wished he hadn’t fallen for. It smells like cinnamon and fragrant flowers. It smells like the candles you burn in fall that really put you into the autumn spirit. He presses a quick kiss to the top of Spencer’s head before continuing the soothing motion.

Soon, Spencer’s breathing starts to even out and Derek can feel him falling asleep. He doesn’t stop playing with his hair until he’s sure Spencer’s asleep. Then, he wraps his other arm around him and holds him close until the jet lands.

Now knowing what a comfort it is to Spencer to have his hair played with, Derek does it way more often. Most of the time, he does it as a casual display of affection when hanging out in each other’s apartments or during a tough case.

The first time Derek experienced one of Spencer’s nightmares, they’d been dating for a little over six months. Derek was staying the night in Spencer’s apartment and the night had been peaceful so far.

Spencer is very much a cuddler, had Derek had just become used to it. There was just something so comforting and grounding about the weight of Spencer resting on his chest, his stray hairs tickling Derek’s nose. He loves how easily Derek could pull Spencer on top of him to cuddle him closer.

Derek is a very slight sleeper and he notices immediately when Spencer’s breathing started to speed up in his sleep. Concerned, he rubs Spencer’s bicep hesitantly in an attempt to comfort him. Spencer starts wiggling now and his face screws up in pain.

“Reid?” he whispers. When he gets no response from the obviously distressed man, he reaches over Spencer to flick the lamp on. Reid continues to squirm but now Derek can see the thin layer of sweat covering his body and the way his fingers are moving like how they fidgeted when he was thinking, except now they were moving at hyper speed.

Wanting desperately to relieve his boyfriend of any and all pain, Derek grasps Spencer’s shoulders and gives him a firm shake in a fruitless attempt to wake him. Spencer continues to writhe, but now he’s making noise. He’s whining, groaning even. His cheeks are wet with tears that are slowly seeping from his eyes.

Derek honestly doesn’t know what to do. He knew Spencer had nightmares, but he’d never seen one before. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone have a nightmare. It was usually himself that would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

It isn’t until Derek moves his hand to Spencer’s hair as a last resort that the younger man calms and stops the noises that break Derek’s heart. He stills in Derek’s arms and finally opens his eyes, but the tears don’t stop.

Derek doesn’t say anything. He just pulls Spencer into his chest and rests his head on his collarbone. He strokes the soft curls that were tickling his nose meer hours ago. He refrains from shushing Spencer because he knows he needs to cry. He needs to let it all out and Derek will be there to hold him through the whole thing. He feels Spencer’s eyelashes fluttering against his bare shoulder and presses a lingering kiss to the top of his head.

Derek moves his hand momentarily to grab the glass of water off the nightstand and Spencer whines.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just need you to drink some water, alright?” he soothes.

Spencer takes the glass from Derek with shaky hands and Derek cups the genius’s fingers with his own to hold the cup steady. Slowly, Reid takes a sip, and then another until Derek is satisfied and returns the glass to the nightstand. He wastes no time in returning his hand to Reid’s hair and watch him visibly relax at the touch. Now that he’s had something to drink and his breathings evened out, he asks, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Spencer nods at first, out of instinct, but stops himself. Then he hesitantly shakes his head no and looks up at Derek with wide, brown eyes.

“Talk to me, Reid,” Derek whispers. Spencer sighs.

“I was dreaming about Tobias,” he says so quietly that Derek can barely hear. “He had me. I was back there but instead of asking me who to kill, he asked me who should replace me. I didn’t answer though, Derek I swear. But he took you anyway. He took you and he forced me to watch as he beat you and I-I couldn’t stand i-it.” His voice breaks on the last part.

Derek feels his own heart breaking as his boyfriend explains the horrific images his brain conjured in his sleep. He subtly rocks them back and forth in an attempt to calm his own nerves in addition to Spencer’s.

“It’s okay, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” he says because it’s the only thing he can think to say.

Spencer moves his hand from where it’s curled up in a fist in his lap to the quilt covering Derek’s legs. He runs his long fingers over the fabric and Derek can tell he’s trying to soothe himself with the texture. He takes the blanket and drapes it over the two of them, pulling it snug over Reid’s shoulders and securing an arm around him as he lays back against the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles.

“Don’t be,” Derek assures him and continues his task of playing with Spencer’s long hair.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to fall back asleep, but it takes Derek a little longer. He can’t help thinking about Spencer’s dream. What if it had been him over Reid? God, he wished it was. He’d do anything to take that experience away from Reid. If Emily were there, she would say it’s no use worrying about what could have been, but she isn’t there. It’s just the two of them.

Shadows from the blinds dance across the ceiling. It’s almost silent except for the occasional loud car and Spencer’s deep breaths. Finally, Derek’s eyes close and remain that way, but his hand never leaves Reid’s hair.

[spencermyangel]

Reid is sexually harassed by someone in a public space (I was thinking a bar when the team is out together or a police station while working a case, and is nearly hurt or assaulted. But Morgan sees him and fights back against the other guy. H/c but also with Moreid mutual pining/ established relationship-- your choice! 

CW - Sexual Harassment

As the music pounded in Spencer’s ears he resisted the urge to cover them. The team had gone out to a new bar and not a calm one either. Spencer was regretting coming along, but Morgan had asked him to, and he felt bad for not going out with Morgan a lot. He could tell if he didn’t get somewhere to calm down he was going to lose it, so he left where he was standing against the wall and began to make his way to the bathroom. 

Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm and he flinched, “Sorry, pretty boy,” Morgan apologized, “I was just wondering where you were going?”

“Oh, I just need to go to the bathroom,” Spencer told him as he blushed. 

“Okay,” Morgan nodded, before going back to dancing. 

As soon as Morgan turned around he rushed into the bathroom, made his way over to the sinks, and splashed water on his face. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths and rapidly flapped his hands. Spencer’s eyes flew open as he heard the door open, he turned and saw a blond man walk in. 

“Hey,” the man said as he walked over to him, a smirk on his face, “I saw you standing out there all alone, and let me just say, you’re stunning.” 

Spencer glanced around nervously, “um, thanks,” he mumbled, avoiding the man’s eyes and tried to walk around him to leave. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” the man grabbed his arm, and pulled him closer to him. 

Spencer's heart sped up and he opened his mouth to say something but nothing would come out. 

“Speechless, are you?” he said as he eyed Spencer’s body. Spencer tried to pull his arm away, but the man tightened his grip before pushing him against the wall.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he whispered against his ear. Spencer felt frozen, ‘move’ he thought ‘defend yourself’ but he couldn’t force his limbs to move. His breath hitched as he felt the man’s hand on his waistband and a tear made its way down his cheek as he let out a small cry. 

*

Morgan glanced nervously towards the bathroom door, his eyebrows furrowed, “Garcia, I’m just going to go check on Reid, he’s been in there a while.” Garcia nodded as he walked towards the bathroom. He opened the door where he immediately heard whimpering, as he turned the corner he saw a blond man harshly kissing Spencer against the wall and unzipping his pants. Morgan saw the distress on Spencer’s face, and the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Morgan shouted as he stormed over, pulling the man off of Spencer.

The man glared at Morgan, “who are you to ask?” 

“His boyfriend,” Morgan growled at him, “now get out of here before I make you regret ever being born.” 

The man rolled his eyes, muttered “whatever,” and left the room. 

Morgan turned to Spencer who was staring at the ground with his fists clenched.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked, turning Spencer’s head up to look at him. Spencer avoided his eyes and sniffled. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Why,” Morgan questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Spencer looked at Morgan, shame in his eyes, “You shouldn’t have had to step in, I should have been able to stop him myself. It was my fault,” He muttered, voice full of self-hate.

“Spencer, this was in no way your fault,” Morgan told him, pulling him into a hug, “tell me you understand that?”

Spencer bit his lip, “I understand,” he whispered. 

“Do you want to go home?” Morgan asked. When Spencer nodded in response, Morgan held him close as they walked to the car.

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Masterlist

[swordofglory]

wip

[vole-mon-amour]

Why is there so much of Hurt/Comfort for Hotch/Rossi, like, overwhelmingly so? Why can't these tired men be happy? C'mon. They have had enough of pain in their lives already.