#spencer is dying but has never looked better?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mind, Broken Soul

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, abuse scars, post-prison!spencer, parent/domestic violence (explicit), pretending to be fine when you're not, smut (maybe considered CNC? i'm not sure but better but that on here)

Summary: Spencer is back from prison so he’s trying to pick up the pieces and get back into his old life. Something is off about you but he respects your boundaries until he sees what you’ve been hiding from him.

Square Filled: cold-blooded torture for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer is home. He’s home and everything is going to go back to the way it was. He’s not going to find you. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. You want to be happy that your boyfriend is out of prison after nearly three months of being locked up for a crime he didn’t do. He suffered in there and you couldn’t do anything about it. He’s home now, and everyone is so happy to see him.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror and try not to break down in tears. This day is for Spencer. He’s home. You can take a break from your personal shit to give him a proper welcome home. If you can do that, you might make it out of this alive. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, one that looks like you’re not dying inside.

You leave the bathroom in search of your boyfriend who is spending time outside away from everyone. Spencer must have gone through hell inside the four walls of the prison so it’s a bit overwhelming to be back to his normal life. Everyone must understand that because they’re inside having a good time and giving Spencer his space.

You push past everyone and walk over to Henry’s small playground. Spencer is swinging lightly on the swings and you stand by him, waiting for him to look at you. When he does, you can see how empty they are. God, Spencer, what happened to you? You hope your eyes aren’t as empty as his. You’re really trying hard to put on a brave face but you’re not sure how much longer you can do this.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey, yourself.” You walk around the other swing and sway in sync with Spencer. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I was gone?”

You were and are afraid of this question. You’ve been preparing yourself for this question since hearing he was coming back but you never knew how to answer it. One wrong word and he’ll know exactly what you’ve been up to.

“You know, working cases like normal. We helped a lot of people but it wasn’t the same without you. I just tried to get through the day every day.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs.

He believes you. He has no reason not to. Spencer looks at you to see a faraway look in your eyes. Maybe it’s just him but something might not be right. The look is gone in a split second and you’re back to pretending. Maybe it’s just him.

“Look, I know Rosis wanted to throw you this party but want to go home?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods.

You two say your goodbyes to everyone before heading home. The drive is silent like you two don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. Sure, it could be the fact that Spencer has been in prison this whole time but he suspects something else happened. You two didn’t talk much but he doesn’t know what could be bothering you.

It’s been nearly three months without you in his bed, and he can’t help himself when he sees you in his bed. It’s been three months since he’s touched you so he walks over to you and crawls up your body. You want to enjoy this. You want to be here for him but you’re stuck inside your own head. You don’t dare let him know what you’re thinking so maybe if you go along with it, you can slip further into the facade you’re putting up.

You two kiss but he’s so wound up that he doesn’t register that you’re not as into it as he is. You’re here for him, that’s all that matters. You’re okay with this even if your body is telling you no. He reaches for your shirt but you’re quick to grab his hands to stop him.

“Keep the shirt on.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want my shirt to stay on.”

“Okay,” he nods respectfully.

He kisses you in all the right spots and touches you where he knows you like to be touched. He is doing absolutely everything right so why do you want to break down in tears right now? Get it together. Just give him what he wants. It might fix you. So, you listen to that part of your brain. He flips you so you’re on your stomach and fucks you from behind. You grip the sheets tightly and put your face in the bed so he doesn’t see the tears, so he doesn’t hear your cries.

You love Spencer and you’re trying hard not to let him see your true feelings. You don’t want to hurt him. It has nothing to do with him but you’re scared to let him see just how broken you are. Thankfully, he’s spent by the time he’s done so he doesn’t see the tears on your cheeks. You immediately roll over and put your head over his heart, and he runs his fingers through your hair. He moves his hands down to your back but you immediately spring away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to shower.” He goes to move. “Alone.”

He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a frown. Since the BAU is requesting that Spencer take some time off, he is forced to stay home while you go to work. Everything seems to be the same but this time, you’re gone before he can wake up, and you get home right before he goes to bed. You don’t change in front of him anymore which is the first red flag. He has seen every intimate part of your body, tasted every part of you, so why are you hiding from him now? He’s not going to be a dick and force you to do something you don’t want to do, but why now?

What happened to you while he was in prison?

“Hey, are we okay?” Spencer asks one night after you had just gotten home from work.

“Of course we are.”

“Okay, because if we aren’t, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.”

You walk into the bathroom to take a bath, leaving him to pick up the pieces you didn’t know you dropped. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’s the “be” part that is setting off alarm bells. If you had said, “I’m fine”, he would have passed it off and left you alone. The fact that you added the word “be” means you’re definitely not fine. The last time you said, “I’ll be fine” was when he had to pry you from your cold-hearted and evil father’s arms right before he went to prison for what he did to you.

Damn, he should have seen the signs before. You had shut everyone down. You didn’t want to be kissed or touched. You stayed in bed for seventy-two straight hours before Spencer had to force you out of it. Your father is and was an evil man who did untold cold-blooded torture to his own daughter. Your emotional scars don’t show but the physical ones do--whip marks, cigarette burns, and stab wounds. Anything to get his anger out.

Spencer walks to the bathroom carefully and knocks twice on the door. When you don’t answer, he pushes the door open to see you with your back turned toward him. There are newer and fresh scars on your back from the same kind of torture. Some are pinker than others. These ones are recent but how can this be? He hasn’t let you out of his sight since… Prison. He kneels next to the tub and looks at you but you’re not seeing him. You’re staring at the faucet as a single drop of water leaks from it.

“Who did this to you?” Spencer asks angrily. You don’t answer. “Was it your father?”

“He got out of prison when you went in. He found me at work and took me back to that farm,” you whisper. “I was just about to take two weeks off so no one questioned why I was gone. He kept me for three before he just let me go. I got back just days before you did.”

It takes Spencer five minutes to say something because of how angry he is, and he has all this pent-up anger that he’d love to get out.

“Is he breathing?” You can only nod in response. “Not for long, he won’t.”

Your head snaps up at his response but he’s already by the door.

“What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done the first time around. That man will never touch a hair on your head ever again.”

Spencer leaves the bathroom door open so you can see what he’s doing. You get a flash of his FBI gun before he’s out of frame. You don’t stop him.

You’re in bed when he finally comes back. If you didn’t know where he was going, you’d think he went to the store. There is not a speck of blood on him or an ounce of regret on his face. You don’t ask where he’s been or if your father is alive even though you know he’d tell you if you did. Spencer climbs into bed and pulls you into him, and you rest your head on his chest.

I’m safe now. Spencer is home and everything is right with the world.

It’s going to take a long time until you’re okay again but with Spencer by your side, you know you can get there.

x

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[mariasont]

THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE

now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )

super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at

Brooding - S.R

a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)

bimbo reader has my heart <3

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader

warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!

wc: 0.6k

Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down. 

That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.

But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.

You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"

He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"

A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."

He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.

You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.

"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.

"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant. 

You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."

Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.

"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."

You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.

"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.

The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through. 

"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"

Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.

"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."

Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.

"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."

Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"

He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.

"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."

And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[gold-onthe-inside]

Christmas Request: Spencer catches wind that one of JJ’s kids (or his own kid) doesn’t believe in Santa, so he commits to growing out his beard, dying it white and dressing up as Santa to bring a lil holiday cheer to the kiddos - can be xOC

santa's little helper 🍬🎅

who? spencer reid (post prison) x bau!reader

summary: after finding out henry no longer believes in santa after he missed last christmas, spencer dedicates this year to bringing the magic of christmas back to his godson's life... with a little help from you, of course.

content warnings: fleeting reference to cat adams, a little kissing, spencer with a beard, ambiguous status of reader's relationship to spencer (could be a wife, fiance, girlfriend, up to you),

In the 12 years you've known Spencer, he's never been keen on growing facial hair, and it had never been something you'd thought twice about. And then Cat Adams had come into your lives and had been determined to ruin the happily ever after the two of had fought so hard to make. Spencer's prison sentence had rivalled only Emily's faked death in the pain it had caused you two, the only difference being that at least Spencer wasn't actually dead. The two of you were a month and a half away from the anniversary of his release, and he'd completely stopped shaving for that year, growing out his facial hair.

You hoped that if it was something serious, he'd have told you, or if not you, his mandated therapist. Besides, other than that, he was taking care of himself, eating well, had finally started sleeping better, you had nothing else to complain about. You'd brought the beard up a couple months ago, but his brow had furrowed in concern and his brown puppy dog eyes baring his heart to you when he asked if you didn't like it. "No, I do like it," you had insisted, which was true. You'd learned early on that Spencer could play around with his hairstyles and you found him no less attractive (just never ever grow out a mullet again, for the love of God).

You'd grown used to it, too, his scruff tickling you when he'd kiss you, which was practically every time he got the chance these days. It's your turn to host the Christmas Eve party and the two of you are going over the house with a fine tooth comb, armed to the teeth with cleaning supplies, and that's when you find the white hairspray, mid-way through your bathroom cleanse. Which would go well with the Santa suit tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. You knew Spencer had his silly moments - with his mismatched socks and magic tricks, and with the amount of times he's pulled stuff out of your ear just to make you smile couldn't be counted. But it felt out of character for him to spend the whole night you had planned (Secret Santa, dinner, and Christmas movies) with white hair and a beard.

He's using all the body strength he has in rigorously cleaning the kitchen floor, intent on making it so clean you could eat off of it, when you trudge downstairs, hairspray in hand. "Spence, is this yours?" you asked, skipping the last step, to the kitchen and he looked up, then froze at the sight of the hairspray.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried, sitting on his knees and you narrowed your eyes.

"It looks like you're planning to dress as Santa at some point," you said, leaning against the doorway, and you watched him stand up and pull off his gloves.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it is what it looks like," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on a bar stool. "Henry, uh, doesn't believe in Santa anymore, so JJ and I were planning to let him stay up tomorrow night and catch Santa in the act."

"Oh," you said, nodding at first, but then frowning a little. "I mean, what's wrong with Henry not believing in Santa? He's like, 9 years old. That happens."

"I know it's developmentally appropriate for him to be questioning these things," Spencer said, letting out another little sigh. "But that's not why he doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

Your frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze. "Last Christmas… he asked Santa for me to come home," he said quietly, almost ashamed. "And then when I wasn't there…"

"He stopped believing in Santa," you filled in the rest and he looked so sad. "Spence," you said softly, crossing over to hug him, setting the spray on the kitchen island. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he said, choking a little on his voice as he tucked himself into your arms.

"Honey, you were framed, it's not your fault," you insisted, rubbing his back.

"I just… I can't be the reason he doesn't believe in these things anymore," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Okay, okay," you said, pulling away to look at him, your hands cupping his neck, thumbs stroking his bearded jaw. "Can I help?" His lips twitched into a smile at you.

"Well, um… Honestly, I think I'm gonna make a mess of the hairspray, and you did such a good job at Halloween with Jack's Cyberman costume--"

"I can do that," you murmured, kissing him gently, and his hands loosened to grasp your waist.

Now, here he sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, watching you meticulously section and spray his hair, which was already damp from the shower.

"Did you know," he started, and you hummed in recognition that you were listening. "That Saint Nicholas was a real guy? He was Greek."

"The Greeks had saints?" you asked.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head as you sectioned out another piece of hair, coating it gently in white hairspray. "Not the kind you're thinking of, but Nicholas of Myra was real. Born in the third century. He apparently had a reputation for secret gift giving, like… leaving coins in people's shoes."

"Keep your head still," you chastised through a giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tilting his chin up to keep still. "He died from natural causes in like, 340, which, for the time, was a good run. It was like… a hundred years later that he became a saint, but by then of course, all of the people who knew him personally were long gone."

"I hate when that happens," you murmured, shifting his chin so you could colour his beard next. "Appreciating people for what they've done after they've died."

"Well, he was very well respected during his life. The story goes that three separate couples were having financial trouble, and in those days, a daughter without a dowry would either never get married or would become a prostitute. So, according to the story, Saint Nick came in the middle of the night and climbed onto their roofs, and dropped three small pouches of gold down their chimneys."

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to be quiet or you're gonna taste hairspray," you said, colouring his jaw, just the hair around his lips left.

"Sorry," he said, his words muffled slightly, and you could see that he was trying desperately not to smile, his shoulders shaking. "I'm done," he said, and you were fairly sure the shake in his voice was from suppressed laughter.

You chuckle quietly, colouring the last of his beard. "All done, Mr Claus."

"How do I look?" he asked, getting out of the chair and taking a look in the mirror, his eyes going wide. "This looks incredible!"

"Yeah?" you asked, stepping away. Spencer had a habit of exaggerating your accomplishments, but you had done a pretty good job with his hair.

"You're a miracle worker," he said, turning to face you, and you could see his excitement. "Now, Santa needs to go get dressed." You chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom so he could get dressed, and sat by the foot of the bed, waiting.

When he reappeared ten minutes later wearing the Santa suit, the white hair and white beard you'd given him made him look like an old man, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he did a little twirl. "How do I look?" he asked, and in spite of how silly he looked, you couldn't help but find him handsome.

You laughed to yourself. "Perfectly in character. Though you could use a little belly."

"Are you saying I'm too thin?" he said, faking offence. He knew he was skinny but sometimes a little gentle ribbing was warranted.

"I'm just saying, Santa's supposed to be fat."

"I take good care of my cardiovascular health, thank you very much," he said, and he looked so ridiculous in the suit, with the white hair and beard, that you were unable to take the conversation seriously. "You know, the modern version of what Santa's supposed to look like was invented in the nineteenth century," he said, his hands on his hips, still very much in character. "Before then, Saint Nick was usually described as an older, slender man, and before that, he was more of a demonic black man. It's only in the fifties that the modern image of Santa was created."

"Okay, okay," you said, holding your hands up. "Skinny Santa it is." You checked your watch. "We should go before Henry actually falls asleep."

Spencer's expression went from Santa to slightly terrified very quickly. "Crap, is it time already?"

"Relax," you assured him, kissing his cheek before leading the way out. "It's just a little breaking and entering. You leave the gifts, you slip right back out."

"Just a little breaking and entering," he repeated dryly. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

You snickered quietly, grabbing your coat and car keys. "For someone who's supposed to be a hardened felon, you're so innocent."

He took offence to that. "Hey," he said, as you both started out of the house. "I was incarcerated for three months. I am very much street wise now."

You opened the passenger side door for him. "Streetwise? Really?"

He climbed into the passenger seat, sticking out his tongue at you as you shut the door.

"I know all about the street life," he said, as you got into the driver's side. "I know how they talk, I know what they do, I know..." His voice trailed off as you shot him a look. "Okay, so maybe everything I know about the street life comes from television."

You couldn't help another laugh as you started the car.

His lips curled into a smile when he saw your reaction, and he leaned across the middle of the car to kiss your cheek. He sat back in his seat and you began the short trip to JJ's house. "Alright, JJ said she's gonna leave the back door open," you said, going over the plan with the same gravity you used for unsub takedowns. "There's cookies and milk left on the kitchen counter. The tree's in the living room."

"Got it," Spencer said decidedly, nodding. "Cookies, milk, tree, simple."

You turned off the headlights as you approached the house, killing the engine across the street. Spencer got out of the car and jogged across the street, ducking around the side of the house. He found the back door like you'd said, and went inside, very much in undercover Santa mode. He went into the kitchen, making for the counter where the cookies and milk were, and that's when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. Spencer panicked, trying to find a place to hide, but there really wasn't one. The cookies and milk were left in the middle of the counter, there weren't any cupboards or anything of the sort. He was stuck, with only the Christmas tree as a possible cover. There was nothing he could do but hope that whoever was coming downstairs didn't flip on the light as he dove behind the tree.

The footsteps stopped, and Spencer held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as the Christmas tree needles dug into his skin. He could see a pair of little feet in front of him. They weren't JJ, which could only mean- "Mr Claus?" the little voice said, and he shut his eyes, praying to something, anything that he hadn't been caught by Henry.

After a long moment, he peeked out from behind the tree, only to find Henry staring right at him. "H-hi," Spencer stuttered. "I-I didn't realise you'd be awake."

Henry's eyes went wide. "I-It's really you." He had that childlike glee that came with finding out about the magic of Christmas, and while Spencer would usually give anything to have that look come back on Henry's face, this was a little inconvenient.

"Ah, I-I mean," Spencer fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a valid reason he would be in JJ's house at this moment, wearing a Santa suit and munching on cookies. "Um..."

"Where's your reindeer?" Henry asked, completely enthralled by Spencer, and he realised that he actually hadn't thought of a cover story to accompany the Santa suit.

"Oh, they're in the- they're in the sleigh," he said, and even he thought it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "They're getting a rest while they can."

"The ride must be hard," Henry said, and Spencer was quietly impressed by that. He was just as smart as his parents, and he probably would have called him out on his lie if he'd given an excuse about a magic sleigh.

"It sure is," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm, and he hoped that the rest of the night wasn't going to be as awkward as this interaction had been so far. "Do you mind if I finish eating these? I only get so many breaks tonight." It was the sort of thing he could imagine a real Santa saying and Henry's eyes widened at that.

"Oh, of course," he said, stepping back. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom." And then Henry was running upstairs. Once he was sure the kid had walked away, Spencer leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh and he silently hoped that you weren't watching him struggle. He finished off the last of the milk and the cookies, and, once he'd composed himself, he made his way to the living room and over to the Christmas tree. He dropped the bag of gifts under the tree, just as he was supposed to.

Meanwhile, Henry was upstairs, trying to get JJ to wake up. "Mom, Mom," he said, shaking his mother gently. "Wake up, Mom, you gotta see this."

JJ grumbled as she got up, Will shifting beside her, but still deep asleep. "What is it, Henry?"

"Santa is downstairs," he said in an excited whisper.

"He is?" JJ asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning a little, Henry pulling her out of bed with all his might.

"Yep. He's downstairs in the living room," he said, dragging her out of bed, and he wasn't kidding because his strength was remarkable. JJ let her son pull her down the stairs, neither of them seeing Santa sneak out the back door. He jogged across the street to the car, getting inside. You watched him in mild amusement as he shut the door, and he was slightly out of breath, which was a comical combination with the Santa suit.

"Mission accomplished?" you asked, a smile on your lips.

"I got caught," he breathed, his voice sounding slightly panicked, and your smile faded into concern as you realised he was serious. "But I think I covered it."

"Did he realise you weren't Santa?" you asked.

"I don't think so," he said, and he did seem a little unsure. "He didn't mention anything about it, and he seemed excited by me being there, but I honestly don't know. It's probably a fifty-fifty chance that he realized it was me."

Meanwhile, Henry had dragged his mom downstairs to an empty living room. "I swear he was here," Henry protested, and JJ was still half-asleep and only slightly confused. "I-I saw him."

"M sure you did, baby," JJ murmured. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No, I did see him!" Henry said, looking around the living room. He ran into the kitchen. "And he was eating the cookies and the milk!"

"Well, he probably left, Henry," JJ reasoned, following him. "He's got a lot of kids to deliver to."

The wonder on Henry's face was replaced with disappointment, and JJ pulled the nine year-old into a hug. "I know it sucks, baby," she said. "But I'm sure Santa will have left you lots of gifts." Henry huffed, pouting, and JJ smiled down at his adorable expression. "Come on," she said, starting up the stairs. "Back to bed, kiddo."

Once they reached upstairs, Henry climbed into bed, and JJ tucked him in. He looked slightly upset, but JJ planted a kiss on his forehead. Even at nine-years-old, he still wanted to believe in Santa. "So, you believe in Santa again?" JJ asked.

"I told you," Henry said, his voice indignant, sounding very much like his father. "I saw him."

JJ couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair. "I know."

He gave her a sleepy smile, and then yawned, snuggling down into bed. “Goodnight, mom,” he mumbled.

"Goodnight, baby," JJ murmured. She watched him for a moment, waiting for that slow rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing like only the asleep could, and once she was sure he was asleep, she tiptoed out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, thanking Spencer in her head.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your Spencer fic’s. :)) Could you perchance write one where reader is sick and Spencer takes care of her??

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak. 

“You’re not fine,” says Spencer, stirring honey into your tea. “You let this go too long without resting, and now it’s bad.” 

You inhale, looking like you’re going to disagree, but a coughing fit supersedes you. The force of it bends you over, and Spencer rubs your back, wincing. You sound like you’re hacking up a lung.

“Okay,” you say once you can, still coughing weakly. “You’re right, I’m dying.” 

“You’re not dying either.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You just need to rest. Is anything bothering you, other than your throat?” 

You shake your head. 

Spencer eyes you skeptically, passing over your tea. You’re infamous for this sort of downplaying. You’d been so good at covering up that you were feeling sick that even your FBI profiler boyfriend hadn’t been able to spot it until a couple of days ago, and even then you’d managed to convince him it was mild enough to go to work until he’d heard you coughing in the shower this morning. Spencer still isn’t sure if, when he’d come home today to find you flushed and miserable in the bed, you’d gotten worse or only stopped hiding it. 

 “Really, nothing?” he asks. “You don’t have any other symptoms?” 

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.” 

“Tell me about them. How do you feel?” 

You frown, blowing on your tea. “Hot and dry. I feel like my entire body needs chapstick. And I’m tired, I guess.” 

Spencer frowns. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers stoke down your overwarm cheek. “You look terrible,” he says. 

You snort. Your cough latches onto it as an opportunity, and you launch into another fit. “Ow,” you wheeze, putting a hand to your chest. “Thanks, you’re really—really wooing me, Spence.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughs, somewhat nervously. “I just meant that you look so sad, honey. I don’t like seeing you so sick.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. You take a scratchy breath in, deep as you can without it catching. You look like you’re savoring it. 

He feels his eyebrows draw together compassionately. “You should try to sleep.” 

“It’s barely six. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“You don't have to wait until it’s late to go to sleep. It might make you feel better.” 

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.” 

Spencer looks at you for a while, thinking of what to do with you. Your tea is still too hot to drink. He’d bought you cough drops on his way home, but you’d already had so many throughout the day that now you say they’re making your mouth feel sore and raw, and you don’t want to take them if you can help it. Maybe he could have you gargle saltwater…

“You should stay at your place tonight,” you tell him gently. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

He knew you would say that. He’s practically moved into your apartment, though he keeps his basically as a storage unit at this point. Whereas Spencer has filled his apartment with enough things for one person (one towel hook in the bathroom, one nightstand, only one really good pillow on the bed), your apartment looks like you’ve always assumed you’d eventually share it. The first time Spencer came over, you already had fuzzy socks for guests, enough towels for an army, and two really, really great pillows on the bed. It made him realize that his apartment was really just a place to sleep; yours was a home. He never wants to leave, but certainly not while you’re like this.

“I won’t get sick,” he lies. (He definitely will. He’s already been exposed to you for days already and his immune system has never had his back.) “And anyway, how will I teach you chess from my apartment?” 

You groan. 

“This is really the best time,” Spencer says, going into the living room to grab the chess board you’d let him keep here. “You’ll never have more free time than when you’re sick. And this way, you won’t get bored.” 

“Sure about that?” you ask wryly as he comes back in, but you’re smiling. 

“Unless you want to try to sleep?” 

You look like you’re actually considering it. “When I was little and I got sick, I used to play mad libs.” 

Spencer feels his face screw up. “I don’t really like that game. They never make any sense at the end.” 

“That’s the point,” you laugh. A weak cough follows it. “Anyway, I’m sick. I promise I’ll let you teach me to play chess soon.” 

“You’re sick,” he allows, setting the chess board on the floor. Not that you don’t get what you want the rest of the time anyway.

[archermind]

sickness and soup

Spencer Reid x f!Reader

Description: You have called Hotch and told him you are unwell, making you unable to come into work today. Soon after you ended the call, there was a knock at your front door… to your surprise it was Spencer. Spencer was tasked by Hotch with the role of making sure you get better.

Content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Author Note: this is my first time having a go at doing this. If anyone has any suggestions or feedback, feel free to offer it to me. (pls i beg lol) i hope you enjoy <3

Working in the BAU can be pretty intense. Some of the main things I find difficult about my job are cases involving children, when the unsub is a sick and twisted psychopath and the worst of them all… calling my boss when I feel sick. I will be honest there is no easy way to call Aaron Hotchner and tell him you can’t make it to work. I would drag myself limbless and bloody into Quantico just to avoid having to tell Hotch “I can't make it in today, sorry!” 

After the long awkward phone call of having to explain to Hotch why I will be missing the day off work, I sat pondering if I was just a hypochondriac or better yet a baby to the familiar enemy of every woman, my period. I had been up through the night, hurling acidic bile up into the toilet bowl from the pain of womanhood tearing up my insides. Periods are a bitch. 

My phone pinged from the living room as I was brushing my teeth for what felt like the hundredth time. My feet plodded from the bathroom through to the living room. I smiled as I saw the notification on my phone. ‘Garcia<3’. I opened the message to be met by a photo of her eating soup. ‘Missing you girl!’. I smiled as I responded with my own photo of me sad pouting and sent her a message of ‘i wish i was there :(‘. 

I threw my phone onto the couch making my way to my room. I sighed as I approached the huge pile of recently washed laundry which was dumped on my designated, ‘I'm too lazy to put these away so I will just dump them here’ chair. I rummaged through the pile pulling out any oversized shirt and shorts I could find. Today has not gone how i anticipated, all i wanted was to miraculously be rid of pain and be sat at the round table hearing of the next kidnap, dismembering and murder. I groaned as I attempted to atleast make my bed but was met with a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I gave up, throwing myself onto the bed like a child throwing a tantrum. 

Light knocks woke me from a deep sleep that I had no recollection of falling into. I quickly jumped up and made my way to my front door. I looked like a mess so when I opened my door to see Spencer Reid… if I didn't already feel like curling up in a ball and dying, I do now. Ever since joining the BAU i couldn’t help not develop a minor school girl like crush on him that only Penelope knows about. 

“Uh… Spencer.. Why are you here?” I questioned him, trying to hide my shameful appearance behind the door. I attempted a smile despite the shock I was in.

“Hotch told me i had to come check up on you but before i left Garcia told me to trust her and that this would make you feel… in her words ‘a hundred times better’” Spencer gave a warm smile as he forced a tub of soup towards me.

“Well it looks like there is enough for two. Would you like to maybe come and have some?” I asked him nervously as I shifted on my feet. 

He nodded as I opened the door wider to allow him to enter. I trailed behind him as he made his way to my living room sofa. I anxiously waited for him to say something to break the silence. It was unusual for Spencer to stay silent for this long. For as long as I have known Reid, it seemed he always had something on his mind that he was ready to ramble on about. 

“Erm.. you will have to mind the state of my apartment” I coughed as my mouth went dry from nerves, “i never really have guests and i haven't had a great morni-” i suddenly was cut off by Spencer as he started to ramble like i expected.

“Did you know that it only takes one droplet of contaminated air to catch an illness?” Reid cleared his throat before carrying on, “and i will be honest with you Y/N… i am not entirely sure why Hotch sent me because he knows i don't like germs”, i watched as he fidgeted with the buckles on his satchel bag. 

My mouth formed an ‘o’ as I realized Hotch didn’t tell him why I was actually not at work today. I started laughing, causing Spencer to avert his eyes to stare at me. Internally I felt bad but I couldn't help but find the poor boy sitting worried on my sofa humorous for his own unknowing. 

“Y/N, i’m being serious. It is not funny. Did you know most serious diseases are caused by airborne illnesses!” Spencer blurted out upset and confused.

“Spence… I'm not contagious." I started, as he gave me a confused look “i am ill from having really bad period pains” I announced as I hung my head in shame having to tell Spencer of all people that currently I am menstruating. Even though it is a natural human thing and I can't control it. 

To my surprise, Spencer stood up and walked towards me engulfing me in a hug. I found it weirdly unexpected. I half anticipated Spencer to run out the door and for the hills at the thought of me… bleeding. However, I found myself comforted by the warm hug. I was still so confused.

“I apologize Y/N if i made you feel horrible by technically categorizing you as contagious and disease-ridden” Spencer started chuckling as his chin rested atop of my head. I smiled at his apology. Although he never made me feel insulted, it was sweet to know he cared about my feelings enough to apologize if there was a misunderstanding. 

I walked into my bathroom, the room was dark but drowned in ambient orange candle lighting. The bath was full of bubbles and the steam from the hot water engulfed the room, inviting me in. Spencer had done all of this while I was finishing my leek and mushroom soup. Although it sounded disgusting, I found myself texting Penelope begging her for the recipe. The response was almost better than the soup ‘a chef never spills her secrets but for you my lovely… ofcourse’ i hummed gleefully as I placed the phone on the counter of my bathroom sink. I tore every item of clothing off and made my way to the calming bath. I settled myself within the bubbles as i leant back to rest my head and close my eyes. It was relaxing and just what I had needed. 

Time passed delicately, but soon enough the water lost its comforting warmth and my fingers' skin was being over-dramatic, wrinkling like I had been within the water for eighty years. As I stepped out of the bathtub, a faint knock was sounded from the door. 

“Are you okay Y/N?” Spencer shouted from behind the locked door sounding worried. 

“Yeah, I'm fine Spence.” i responded smiling at his caring nature

“Just checking because on average about 10 people die each day from unintentional drowning in swimming pools and bathtubs” Spencer rambled and I smiled in adoration, while I got dressed, that it always goes back to statistics with him. 

I opened the door and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I'm not about to become a statistic today”. 

Spencer returned the warm smile before guiding me back to my living room. I gasped at the sight. Spencer had set up a blanket and some pillows on the sofa. While also supplying me a heating pad, chips and chocolate. I turned to him and placed a hand over my open mouth. 

“Thank you spence!” I wrapped my arms around him tight and placed my head on his chest. I couldn't believe how thoughtful and understanding he had been. “This means alot you know.” I spoke muffled. 

“You deserve it Y/N, you are one of the most caring and thoughtful people I know at the BAU. i don't think you realize how much we appreciate you sometimes” Reid explained, “ or how much your company and thoughtfulness means to me Y/N”. 

I looked up to see Spencer turn a deep shade of crimson as he blushed. I smirked as I didn't know he even had it in him to hug a girl let alone compliment one. I had a small sense of happiness, boastfulness and achievement that that girl was me. The rest of the day, Spencer stayed to watch movies, talk and keep me company. That was until we both fell asleep… wrapped in a blanket… in each other's arms.

[cenorii]

In 2021, dirty secrets about the use of bioweapons are revealed inside BSAA + there are direct hints in Umbrella Corps that Wesker is alive. I just combine the two puzzle pieces together in my head. So let's look at another interesting post-2009 scenario.

AU - ELEGY OF FREE RADICALS

Chris was once careless about eliminating Wesker. Knowing his nature, he still didn't check Wesker's presumed place of death properly. Relying on his own luck, Chris left the place of battle and never returned there. But he had to go back. It has become his mistake.

Chris reported the scene of the victory to the BSAA. Rotten BSAA could have used that data in any way they wanted. Like going back there and checking out the volcano. They could have indicated on the documents that they were headed to clear the area of the remnants of Uroboros, but in fact to search for Wesker's remains to get rich off the sale and study of his unique biomaterial. But what they didn't expect was to find him alive. Badly injured, helpless, but somehow alive.

Taking advantage of the weakness of the still living organism, he was taken to the secret laboratory of the headquarters. Now Wesker could be under the supervision of BSAA scientists for a very long time. He's much more useful alive than dead. His knowledge, skills, all of it could be utilized. And it was also possible to conduct endless experiments on his unusual body... Testing the limits of his abilities, testing various poisons, looking at the lethality of their new weapons, and etc. He was once again a puppet, as he had once been in Spencer's hands, from which he had miraculously escaped.

The BSAA kept Wesker's abilities under strict control, he was trivially stripped of any PG67A/W injections, replaced with an alternative that was only necessary for his body to regenerate damage after the battle in the volcano, but didn't provide any additional benefits. So he would remain weak but healthy.

Another remedy was also applied to him, eliminating the consequences of merging with the Uroboros, which modified his body in a volcano. It was discovered in 2011, after the events of Revelations 2. It was rude to call it just a serum, it was something more, because it did not remove the virus itself from the body, but brought it into a more stable form, allowing Wesker to take his ordinary appearance. With him, in this form, it became easier for employees to work.

The BSAA restored Wesker, stripped of his strength, any dignity, as well as his freedom. He was bedridden for several years and various weapons were tested on him, then recorded how his body reacted and at what rate it recovered. An immobilized lab rat, a deserved punishment for someone like him? Perhaps. It was thanks to his "sacrifice" that the anti-regeneration weapon was invented, which had once come in handy for Chris in the battle against Mold.

Just think… how many things could the BSAA have invented using the infinite resources of Wesker's body? He was terrified of these thoughts. Terror at the realization that he had no chance of escape, that he was trapped here forever, that he would continue to have his organs taken out of him and be forced into endless pain. He reflected that he hadn't actually managed to do so many contradictory things to deserve eternal torment. And it's better to let him die than to endure this hell. But his own body played a cruel joke without dying. It was an expert on regeneration. His pride was trampled when he begged for death.

BSAA absolutely did not spend any painkillers and sleeping pills on Wesker, absolutely all experiments were carried out when he was conscious. They had already spent a lot of money on him during his recovery, it was a waste to spend even more on someone who could repair any of his damage.

Pain and terror haunted him for six years. He cursed what he used to idolize in himself.

And then he was forced to work for them. In 6 years he had grown accustomed to the constant pain and had already learned to see himself as nothing, sending his consciousness into free floating. Deep in his thoughts, he created a place where he learned to ignore the endless physical torment. But when he was put on his feet and pulled out of this place… Wesker was even more devastated.

It was unusual for him to suddenly return to normal work, all this created a mess in his head, reality seemed to be nonsense. The usual paperwork after hell? Are you kidding me?!

Morally, he was destroyed. His psyche was severely damaged. Wesker from the "torture room" was locked in a cell that looked like a combination of a room and a laboratory. For fear of being put back on the operating table again, he dutifully began to work and develop various things that BSAA would use in the future. But it wasn't life either. Weakened body, lack of abilities... he wanted to die, but he couldn't afford it, because he was practically immortal. Although, even if he used a weapon that stops regeneration on himself... he still wouldn't kill himself.

«Not here»

«Not like this»

At times he thought he was balancing on the fine line between normalcy and insanity. He saw people at best once every two weeks who came to check on his work and were not at all talkative. Wesker had always been convinced he didn't need company, but 12 years without socializing had made him question his beliefs.

Once a month he was provided with food, and then carelessly, because he didn't need food. His body, experiencing hunger, could devour itself and regenerate immediately.

The only reason he was given a room and released from the operating table was because the organization wanted to see what he could offer them. Of course, they didn't stop studying his unusual body and conducting experiments, but Wesker was already in charge of the process himself. Independently amputated his limbs and so on. Only closer to 2019 were these experiments stopped, because they had extracted all possible benefits from his body.

Wesker remotely, horrified, realized that thanks to his body he would live much longer than the average person, if not forever. Which led him to believe that he would be kept in this cage for centuries. BSAA would close, others would take their place, find him, torture him again. And so on in a circle, for all eternity, as long as human society and greed existed. This had to end... but how? A plan was needed, a complex one that could not be unraveled.

His life and existence was a BSAA mystery from 2009-2021. For 12 long years he was not allowed out of the walls of this cell.

Of course he wanted to escape, he had many unrealistic thoughts in his head about it. He was also interested in meeting Chris, aged, changed. To see his reaction, genuine shock rather than the anger he'd reacted to Wesker's earlier 'resurrections'. Is Chris even still alive today? What year is it now?

But this life couldn't go on forever, the BSAA was cracking at the seams. In 2021 it was revealed that they were using B.O.W. soldiers, something Chris couldn't ignore. So he headed over to European headquarters to deal with it - right where his nemesis was located, a complete headache. Chris couldn't accept that his organization, which was fighting biological weapons, would use them. It didn't fit in his head. He had long ago stopped trusting the BSAA, but this was the last straw.

Arriving there, Chris did not expect to meet someone in the basement laboratories whom he had buried a long time ago.

What was he going to do with him? Shoot him in the head without any thought? That would have been logical and in Redfield's character, but over the years he'd stopped being a complete hothead, learned to think first and then act. Gained a little equanimity.

It will turn out that it was Wesker who was involved in the creation of the B.O.W. in BSAA. Especially since these soldiers are improved clones of Chris himself. Who else could have come up with such an idea? Only to a man who thought Chris was "one of his best men".

For the past 6 years, Wesker has been forced to be an advisor to BSAA, sharing all the knowledge and ideas. He might have been able to pull it all off, if only to get back at that organization, turning Chris' anger on it, and turning his attention to himself at the same time. After all, only this "one of his best men" was the only one who could save him. Yes, Wesker was pathetic. He felt he wasn't even worthy of his former name, being so pathetic as to enlist the help of his enemy. But it was the only option. There was no more talk of pride.

However, it didn't matter now, Chris had come here to punish the founders, so their prisoner, their chief counselor, might prove to be the best informant. And an ally.

Natural intuition made Chris believe his former enemy, the biggest manipulator of them all. As if he was definitely not lying now, because he was in such a big asshole that he couldn't let his words sound unconvincing. Earlier, Chris would have easily recognized his lies, but not now. Right now, completely honest and dull eyes were looking at him from beneath translucent glasses. So damn pitiful that Chris automatically assumed the role of the hero rescuing the damsel in distress.

Chris was quickly combine the information together in his head: the situation, the physique, the setting... His opponent had been held hostage by his own ambition, it couldn't help but bring a smile to Redfield's face. But he hid it in his thoughts, because he deemed it inappropriate once he read Wesker's imprisonment papers. Chris had some free time to devote to the situation.

He read about what had been done to Wesker. About all the torture. And Redfield clutched his head, when he got to the description of his ammunition that he'd used against Mold a couple years ago. He was terrified that this weapon had been created in such a gruesome way... through the suffering of his enemy, who, even considering all his guilt, didn't deserve all this. Chris felt that Wesker should have died and rid the world of himself rather than suffer endlessly. Even for him, he thought it was inhumane.

The first thing Wesker said to Chris was: - Now you've taken on the role of captain of the «alpha» too. This jabbed Chris slightly, but he noticed how the hostage said it without malice. Redfield involuntarily remembered 1998, the mansion, the betrayal, the deaths of the Alpha and Bravo group...

The compartment Wesker was in was to him both an office and a laboratory, and a room. A kind of prison, which he could not leave on his own because of his weak physical condition. He was weakened by the daily injections putting his viruses inside his body to sleep.

Releasing him and examining him at arm's length, Chris made sure that in the state Wesker was in now, he posed no danger, just an ordinary disgust. He resembled only a pale copy of his former self.

The BSAA operative dragged him carelessly behind him like some sack of garbage, concerned only with keeping the information in his head intact. But in his mind Chris still held images of what the BSAA bastards were doing here to Wesker. He didn't want to feel sorry for him, but he couldn't control it, Redfield had never been heartless. Initially he had only cared about information, but it wasn't long before he didn't even notice how protective he had become of him. As if a friend, which in truth, he never was. His captive's behavior was different from what Chris remembered. It was different, like a throwback to the past. Perhaps 12 years of imprisonment had had that effect on him.

He was docile, which wasn't surprising, since Wesker had been treated like an object by the organization, and the operating table had been a good teaching moment. Chris couldn't believe that after so many years of hell his former enemy's mind was still intact, that he hadn't lost his mind and was capable of dialog.

Time passed unnoticed during the proceedings with the BSAA about B.O.W., eventually the organization was destroyed and all its equipment, along with Chris's squad, transferred to TerraSave.

Chris during all of this had to sign Wesker into the Hound Wolf Squad as either a prisoner or an advisor. To keep him from getting shut down again, that was the deal. He helps them, they help him. Over time, he was getting back to normal. The food and good company had done their job.

However, Chris didn't know that his new ally hadn't lost all of his strength, and the ones he had were sleeping under the influence of the medicament. But time passed, the medicament slowly stopped working without new doses, and Wesker understood it perfectly well. And felt it. It didn't affect his appearance, so he could play his role for as long as he wanted. But was it a role? Sure he was portraying a courtesy that annoyed Chris to the point of nausea, but it was partially sincere. Having broken with his past at the fault of the BSAA, Wesker could only hope to find a new purpose. After all, as Spencer had raised him, there is no life without purpose.

Therefore, was it so necessary for him to betray Hound Wolf Squad? Would it be beneficial to him? Chris is a strong point. He has no doubt that if he kills Redfield - another will take his place, and will definitely get him into the basement wheel of samsara. So Wesker had no grand plans yet. After all, any of them would be doomed to failure as long as there was anyone in the world capable of resisting.

But Chris risked to give him a goal, which, however, called impossible - to become the best version of himself. To help the Hound Wolf Squad, to work with TerraSave, to use his knowledge for something other than endless failed experiments. Stop being Spencer's failed experiment. The only option Chris would give him a chance at.

Those words stuck in Wesker's head for a long time. Mentioning the old man was like a low blow. Chris knew where it hurt the most.

It had been several years since Wesker had joined Redfield's team. All that time he'd been hiding his abilities so as not to lose the fragile trust in his person. But the truth couldn't help but surface one day....

On one of the missions connected with B.O.W., the blade of an exploding helicopter blew off Wesker's head, and then another piece of debris cut his body in half.

But he didn't die.

Chris was enraged. With resentment, he felt cheated. What else could he have expected?

First, the black mass connected the body, restoring functionality to it, and then this silent carcass picked up the head. It was slow. It looked helpless and creepy. Chris's squad was on edge, but he ordered to wait. The black substance emerged from the base of the neck and attached the head to itself, then the calm expression on the reanimated head changed to horror. Was he in unbearable pain from the newly received oxygen? Or from the fusion of tendons?

When Wesker recovered, he couldn't at first think of a response to Chris' "explain yourself!"

Everyone's fragile trust collapsed, but not Redfield's, for he knew that if his former adversary had wanted to betray him, he would have betrayed him long ago, he wouldn't have let himself be so ridiculously exposed. Especially after all the torture he'd endured. Chris could understand why Wesker was hiding his powers. Redfield had stepped on the same rake of trust again, convincing himself that he had everything under control.

Wesker, ever since the prototype had merged with Uroboros in his body, had acquired a number of flaws, chief among them an unbearable sensitivity to pain. The only time he could not feel pain was when he was BSAA injected with force restraining drugs. But without them, all the disadvantages came out.

Whereas before he could recover from any wound without feeling anything but minor damage, now the pain was so obvious that every regeneration was accompanied by agony. Especially if it was a burn, for heat is a major weakness for Uroboros. The healing places on his body, after that helicopter situation, hurt like hell.

He was closer to human now than he had been before, and Chris seemed to realize that. That was why he hadn't killed him a second time, but had accepted him back into his squad. It was not only a gesture of goodwill, but also a precaution, a way to keep a dangerous object as close to him as possible so he wouldn't do anything.

How long will they have to cut off the heads of hydra in the face of the creators of bioweapons?

- Why do you trust me, Chris?

- I still believe that anyone can become the best version of themselves. We should prioritize fighting for the future to give someone a quiet life that you and I have been robbed of. I know about Project W. Together we can stop new organizations and prevent many tragedies like this from happening again. And you can help us, Wesker. BSAA took away your choice, but I'm giving it to you now.

Wesker at first couldn't find the words to respond, but after a moment he barely audibly whispered: "Thank you."

From a man who never thanked anyone, Chris was shocked to hear that. And he was proud of him. Had he forgiven him? No, his deeds were unforgivable. But Chris wasn't the kind of man who would turn his back on his one chance to make things right, to make things right on Earth, to save someone's life. In this truce, he sees a future that's bright for everyone.

[offseason-if]

Formal character introduction post with more info on the romance options' personalities, ages, appearances, and what tropes you can expect from their routes.

Noel Watanabe [RO, they/them, 20]: Since your first meeting when you were both 12, where the judges scored you one point higher than them, Noel has claimed themselves as your 'rival'. They certainly play the part— well sometimes. Between bringing you food after practice and completely ignoring you, their hot-and-cold personality practically gives you whiplash. When they heard you were quitting the sport, they were enraged. Will you dig deeper into your relationship with your so called rival?

Appearance: Ivory skin, long straight black hair just past their chest, green eyes, a mole under their right eye, septum piercing, left eyebrow piercing, multiple upper ear piercings, almost always wearing eyeliner, 6'0. Noel's fashion style is very much dark academia. Turtlenecks, blazers, ties, combat boots, trench coats. They tend to settle for more laid back clothes (long sleeves and leggings) if they're just practicing all day.

Personality: Noel is just what you expect someone who's been playing a sport for 13 years to act like. They're abrasive, competitive, and confident. Growing up with parents who only built tension through passive aggressive comments rather the communication certainly didn't help— but that's neither here nor there, at least in Noel's opinion. What? No, of course they've never been to therapy, why do you ask?

Romance Tropes: rivals to lovers, reluctant love, afraid to commit, slow burn

Hallie/Harlow Mitchell [RO, gender selectable, 18]: After deciding to take a gap year against their parents wishes, H finds themselves spending their (would be) fall semester in Illinois. You first run into them, quite literally. A blur of bright orange knocking you flat on your back isn't he way you were looking to get your mind off of your problems but it worked. And if it hadn't the sound of H profusely apologizing certainly did. They seem to follow you everywhere you allow them to after that. Will their attempts to motivate you to skate again lead to something more?

Appearance: Tan skin, blue eyes, dyed bright orange hair, freckles, 5'8. Hallie has chin length length hair with bangs and small braids sprinkled in along with assorted hair clips, she doesn't wear makeup often but when she does it's in bright and bold tones. Harlow has his hair styled in a grunge perm that just reaches the end of his neck. H has a streetwear style; graphic tees, windbreakers, cargo shorts, crocs, (they have so many jibbitz) baggy jeans, sneakers.

Personality: What one imagines when they think of 'southern hospitality'. They're charming, outgoing, and kind. H would rather talk to someone in class than take the time to work on a project; though now in a bad way. School just never came quite easy to them, but they do make up for that in quite literally all other aspects of their life sports, cooking, art. You name it they've done it. Well, apart from ice skating.

Romance Tropes: meet cute, love at first sight, friends to lovers, obvious love

Sadie/Spencer Williams [RO, gender selectable, 19]: Your best friend since your first year in high school. They've seen all the parts of you that you keep hidden from others, for better or for worse. While never picking up ice skating themselves S has never missed one of your games as long as they've known you. S has always been loyal and supportive of you, almost to a fault, but that all changes when you tell them you're giving up skating. Will you find out why your normally laid back best friend is passionate about getting you to skate again?

Appearance: Ebony skin, dark brown eyes, chocolate brown hair, unblemished skin, ear piercing, beauty mark above their lip, 5'5. Sadie has her hair styled in butterfly locks just reaching her mid-back, usually in a half down half up style, she usually wears makeup consisting of light earthy tones. Spencer has his hair styled in twists just going past his chin. S has a cozy type of fashion style; sweaters, corduroy pants, cardigans, turtle necks, sweater vests, knitted socks, platform shoes.

Personality: The perfect picture of an introvert. S is quiet, comforting, and laidback. S is very much a closed book, trusting their small trusted circle with knowing things about them and not keen on opening up to others. If you are close to S, you know that they're quite artistic. Whether that's drawing, painting, pottery, photography, or anything else they enjoy expressing their creativity that way.

Romance Tropes: friends to lovers, everyone can see it, requited unrequited love, slow burn

Valerio 'Val' Diaz [RO, he/him, 20]: Coach Diaz had introduced the two of you after your third lesson, convinced you would become quick friends. He was right, of course, at least for a while. Valerio was obliviously quite a bright kid; helping you with homework during breaks at practice, studying with you before lunch, spending your sleepovers going over multiplication tables rather than telling secrets. It was something you'd always admired about him until— well, you'd rather not get into it. Your old friend seems to think otherwise, if the speed he comes back into your life after hearing about your plans to quit skating is anything to go by. Will you be able to forgive and let your old friend (or more) back into your life?

Appearance: Light brown skin, short curly dark brown hair just reaching his shoulders usually in a ponytail or bun, hazel eyes, small scar on his forehead partially covered by his hair, glasses, 5'4. Valerio has a casual style of clothes; crewnecks, hoodies, sweatpants, basketball shorts, t-shirts, socks with sandals, sneakers.

Personality: After one conversation with Valerio it's obvious they view their education above all. Smart, ambitious, and mature. Valerio is not one to prioritize play over work. From student council to volunteer work, Valerio was extremely busy during high school, even more so now that he's in college. Majoring in criminal law certainly takes up his already busy schedule. Though, the little boy everyone once knew is still there somewhere.

Romance Tropes: childhood friends, second chance, exes to lovers, childhood marriage pact, childhood friends to lovers

[hyperraduo22]

my long list of random dps headcanons

+ includes spencer and stick !! :))))

• neil only has problems with reading in one eye and still to this day cannot figure out why. he assumes it’s genetic atp

• meeks and pitts do not like excessive gore in movies although pitts is more prone to dislike body horror— they won’t get physically sick from looking at gore they just generally don’t like it and get easily squeamish from it

• pitts likes pink lemonade simply cause it’s pink

• whenever knox gets a fortune whether from a fortune cookie or one of those mechanical tellers, he takes it so seriously for the next two weeks

• meeks and todd are slow eaters

• neil is the pickiest eater out of all the poets although he’s slowly learning to get over it and try new foods. cameron and meeks try to encourage him little by little since they used to be picky as well but got over it

• todd has sensory issues when it comes to texture. if he feels something he doesn’t like for a long period of time, he could possibly get anxious and start crying from it. example: he absolutely hates the feeling of shedded snake skin and will never ever stick his hands in those “guess what you’re touching” boxes at those wilderness exhibits— bro is traumatized from it

• despite popular belief of neil hating roller coasters, i think he has a neutral opinion on them and there’s some he can tolerate and some that he does like. although he’s very picky with roller coasters and there’s some he absolutely refuses to go on even with todd

• cameron actually likes trains a lot and hyperfixates on them (and yes there’s a bittersweet story behind it from his childhood)

• pitts loves anything s’mores flavored

• stick knows how to bake really well and the dps always ask (more like beg atp) to be his personal taste testers cause they know the finished product will be delicious

• meeks cannot eat spicy food for the life of him. he tried cajun food once and he loved it but some of the cheyenne peppers knocked him tf out- like his face was redder than his hair

• knox loves rooftop dining (rich bastard)

• charlie has a personal barber that he always goes to even when he becomes an adult

• todd’s mom is a lesbian (( i wanna post my dps family headcanons so bad cause this deserves context😭 ))

• pitts grew up with a compromised immune system and spent his days inside a lot during late elementary school and a little bit into middle school. since meeks was also pressured to do good academically at such a young age and ended up staying inside more often, the two bonded over that and meeks didn’t mind taking care of pitts when he got sick<3

• charlie and cameron are really good at golf

• cameron prefers taking chewable pills whenever possible since he has trouble swallowing larger pills

• meeks can name the 50 states in alphabetical order off the top of his head

• todd and pitts have that friendship where they always support each other no matter if they both know what they’re doing/saying is dumb and absolutely wrong by all logical standpoints

• pitts is better in biology and anatomy. the only reason why he’s passing chemistry is cause he’s good with remembering chemical reactions and organizing his work during lab projects. otherwise stoichometry fucks him up badly

• todd chews on the ice whenever he has certain cold drinks

• stick crochets in his free time— he even crocheted a blanket for spencer and spencer still uses it to this day :(((

• spencer can get really invested in dramas or sports shows and end up having really dramatic reactions at the things that happen on tv— stick has witnessed this once and bro was dying laughing the entire time. every since then, the duo watch tv together and it feels like a therapeutic bond between the two

• ^speaking of spencer and stick, they’re childhood besties!! they have that bond where even when they separate for long periods of time, they’re able to reunite and catch up/have nothing change between them

• because todd loves bird watching and meeks loves stargazing, they invite each other whenever they’re doing those activities and hype each other up whenever they spot something rare (ie. rare bird species or a rare celestial event) <3

• because stick likes to feed hummingbirds around the campus from time to time, todd sometimes joins him so he can also appreciate the birds

• whenever he reads up that an eclipse is coming up, meeks gets all the poets together on the rooftop to watch it

• pitts actually knows how to play a few songs on piano but hasn’t touched a piano in a very long time

• charlie learned to play clarinet in a orchestra/symphony that played for the town and raised money for local charities—that’s right. he’s so rich that his parents didn’t enroll him in private lessons but rather a more professional band class with other kids. he originally wanted to try out the oboe just cause (he also secretly loved the oboe solo in that one tchaikovsky piece) but his parents obviously made him do clarinet instead. he would later teach himself saxophone

• charlie has an immunity to ibuprofen and some other over the counter drugs (don’t ask why. he’s probs the type of person that gets headaches or body aches easily- whether self induced or not- and took so much ibuprofen over the course of a month that it doesn’t work anymore)

• cameron has sensitive teeth and gets toothaches easily from cold foods like ice cream. therefore, he’s careful with his portions when eating certain desserts, takes smaller sips when drinking water at restaurants (or he just asks to have no ice in his drinks), and he prefers drinking room temperature water

• stick is scared of butterflies- like i’m talking bro has a full on phobia of them cause of some traumatic childhood incident- but still thinks they’re really beautiful :(((

• ^because of this- when walking outside, spencer will make sure there aren’t butterflies nearby for stick. he’ll either swat them away or gently pick them up and make them fly away elsewhere like the true best friend he is🫡

• no matter the circumstance, spencer just does not give two fucks about true crime whatsoever. you can make him watch a true crime doc and he’ll either get bored or be like “really? that’s all the killer can do?” “…couldn’t they like- i don’t know- not enter a complete stranger’s home??” “i could’ve beaten up that guy you know.”

• knox and spencer have a brotherly relationship and have known each other since middle school. knox would invite spencer to tag along with him and charlie, obviously tease him in the middle of class, and he’d ask for help on school work. plus knox and charlie have stood up for him on multiple occasions and help raise his confidence in social situations

• stick has hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) episodes from time to time. sometimes they sync up with spencer’s random nosebleeds and they both sit in the nurse’s office together.

—————

okay now i wanna post dps family headcanons and stick and spencer headcanons now🏃‍♂️🗣️

let me and todd’s lesbian mom cook

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Comfort

Aaron Hotchner x Teen!Reid!Reader

Summary: Hotch comforts Spencer's daughter when she's worried about her dad

Set in: Season 14 Episode 1 "300"

Warnings: Reader is worried about Spencer, mentions of a parent hypothetically dying, hints of self-deprecation

A/n: what i'd give to see Hotch in the later seasons :(

When you were little and your dad was in danger, the team kept it from you as long as they could.

The older you got, the more difficult it was for them to lie or stretch the truth.

By now you were too old for them to not tell you.

They spared you the details of the actual situation.

You just knew Spencer was abducted, and, therefore, there was a chance he wasn't coming back alive.

You wondered if this was it.

If this would finally be the time your dad didn't make it out on the other side of a life threatening situation.

You waited at the BAU and sat by your dad's desk, wondering if that desk would belong to someone else in a few months, maybe years.

Hotch exited his office and slowly walked towards you.

He saw the emotionless expression on your face and his heart sank.

"Hey," He said softly.

You didn't reply.

He walked closer to you and leaned against your dad's desk.

"You can talk to me, you know that right?" He said.

The feeling of guilt had started to build up in his throat.

Maybe if he'd been more careful, or more observant, this wouldn't have happened.

You waited a minute before speaking. "You know, even with everything he's been through there's still this weird thing in my head that convinces me he'll be okay."

"He might." Sugar coating things wouldn't help you right now.

"But he might not." You finally looked at him with glassy eyes.

A quiet, bitter chuckle left your lips.

Not becuase anything was humorous, you simply couldn't believe this was happening again.

"I don't know what I'd do without him, Hotch." Your voice shook as you spoke.

"You're not supposed to," Hotch said. "I know that does little to comfort you. I wish there was something I could say to make it better but there isn't."

"This shouldn't happen to people. And I don't mean me, I mean... hasn't he been through enough? Even if he survives, physically. One person can only handle so much."

"Your dad is strong, and he has you to remind him why he has to keep going."

"What if I'm not enough to make life feel worth it to him?" You asked, your voice cracking.

"Enough?" He asked, shocked. "Y/N, on every bad day I've seen your dad have, when he gets to go home and see you, I can see the weight on his shoulders ease. You've been enough for him to keep going since the day you were born. Hell, even before you were born."

You didn't bother fighting against the sobs begging to be released anymore.

"Come here," Hotch said softly, opening his arms.

You gave in and let him hold you while you sobbed.

He wasn't a very touchy person usually, but he felt differently about that when it came to certain people, and you were one of them.

Hotch swore to himself then that if your dad didn't make it back, he would always be there for you.

You would never be alone as long as he was around.

★

You sat in Aaron's office after that.

He didn't go with the others when they went to hopefully bring Spencer back, choosing to stay with you instead.

You sat on the couch in his office, a book you had only read three pages of open in front of you.

Hotch saw your eyes start to falter.

"You should get some rest, Y/N."

"No, I need to be awake when they get back." You insisted.

"I'll wake you up," Hotch assured you.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

You lay down on the couch and eventually fell asleep. Aaron went to get you a blanket and carefully covered you with it.

★

"Y/N." Hotch shook you awake. "Your dad's almost here."

You quickly sat up, "He's okay?"

"Yeah. He's in the elevator now, he'll be up in a minute."

Relieved tears welled up in your eyes.

"Thank you," You whispered, leaning forward to hug him.

"For what?"

"Being here." You said quietly. "And whatever you did that helped get him back."

Hotch tightened his hold on you, "I'll always be here, Y/N."

fin. ♡

[dalekofchaos]

Resident Evil 6 Remake

I think this is the inevitable conclusion to where all these remakes are leading towards. Capcom fixing their mistakes.

If it were up to me, I would replace Simmons with Alex Wesker or ideally a resurrected Oswell E Spencer, but I think Alex works better.

If it were up to me I would've had Wesker clone Ada Wong for a completely subserviant super spy. But Wesker dies and his sister takes the Carla clone.

It would be an all hands on deck situation We'd play as

Leon

Replace Helena with Ashley

Chris

Jill

Claire

Ada

Rebecca....and a returning Billy

Jake and Sherry

Leon, Chris, Jake/Sherry and Ada's stories all remain the same.

The big story with Ashley is Ashley becomes an Agent like she wanted and her father committed a big war crime and the next administration exposes it, which causes Alex to manipulate Ashley to breach the president's security thus giving Ashley a redemption story and a reason to be there in the story. But to Ashley's horror, she would discover that Carla assassinated her father and wants revenge, but to Ashley Ada and Carla are one in the same, so it's up to Leon to stop Ashley from making a mistake.

Now why Claire and Jill? Chris goes missing and loses his memory and you're seriously telling me his partner and his sister do not try to look for him and help him? I don't know where they fit storywise, but I would have them in the fucking game.

Maybe have Jill and Carlos team up BECAUSE CARLOS NEVER FUCKING APPEARS AGAIN. Hell, they could be hunting Nikolai for all I know, bottom line is I would tie up the loose ends while helping Chris.

Rebecca's story would be to working on fighting the viruses leaked int he world and stopping it before it's too late. But Rebecca would find out she's not alone. Billy Coen has reappeared. Billy returns after so long and comes back to aid Rebecca. Best I could come up with, but this would tie loose ends with Rebecca and Billy.

Where Claire goes is hunting Alex. The big twist? Claire is being hunted by a Nemesis like Steve Burnside.

We'd learn Alex's big plan is to revive Oswell E Spencer. All the chaos in the world is to lead to the revival of the man responsible for all the bioterrorism in the world.

I'd end it with a big damn heroes moment with all the heroes united(with a cameo from Barry) and ending the revived Spencer and ending Umbrella once and for all.

We never got that moment where we finally hunt down Umbrella. It ended unceremoniously off-screen with Spencer dying such a pathetic death at Wesker's hands.

We know from the RE5 DLC that Alex Wesker was taking care of Spencer, so why not use that?

And we definitely fucking need to have everyone being there to ending Spencer and the last remnants of Umbrella.

And hey you can tie Claire and Alex with Claire hunting down Alex that leads to Revelations 2.

[magnoliabutters]

pairing: spencer reid x (she/her) bau!reader

summary: never in a million years would you expect to wake up next to spencer reid...

warnings: 18+ content, mdni; fake statistics, seasons 1-7 spencer, innocent/well-researched virgin, plot who?, sub/dom switch, oral (r receiving), etc.

word count: ~2.5k

reblogs for baby spencer wencer ♥️

Never in a million years would you expect to wake up next to Spencer Reid.

After a particularly daring case, you were dying to find a way to let loose. Luckily for you, the only coworker available was the sweet, heart warming smile of a young agent.

The night was filled with playing chess and simple card games. It didn’t take long for you to regret ever suggesting the idea of playing any games with Reid.

You gently persuade him into the idea of binging Netflix shows. Two wine-tinted glasses and an emptied bottle to show for the fun night. Little did you know, it was going to end in a sleepover.

A grumbling moan and the base of your palm presses into your brow bone. You slowly raise and place your back against your headboard. Resting elbows on your knees, you curve out your back.

“Did you sleep well?”

You jump at Spencer’s voice, having completely forgotten that, in good slumber party fashion, you invited him into your bed. “Oh god,” you gripe, peering through your fingers. He sits with today’s newspaper folded to its crossword. A pen swinging between his two fingers as he sits propped up by two pillows.

Moving away from the curiosity of how this man procured the paper when you don’t even get them, your eyes are glued to the bundle of curls on his head. You point his way while stifling a laugh. His brows furrow as he tucks in his chin. When realizing exactly what you were laughing at, he lovingly smacks you with his paper thin weapon.

“Okay, your hair,” he starts. You nod, encouraging him to finish his sentence. A mean Reid, that would be a sight to see. “Well, I don’t want to be rude so I’m just not going to say anything.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest like he did something.

You smile, leaning your head back onto the wood. “Ugh, I don’t want to get up.” Spencer slow slides down with a smile, crushing the pillows below him. His eyes raking over your dramatic body.

“Well, you don’t have to,” he shares with a shrug. “68% of Americans sleep in, especially seeing as 48% of women have trouble…” he slows his words upon noticing the sheets gradually covering your head.

Under a rather light duvet, you can hear his muffled words. “Oh, okay then.” He returns to his puzzle, biting the top of his pen in his mouth. A minute or two passed and he writes down his sixth word furiously.

Wow, Spence is really just going to leave you down here. You groan as you shoot up from the covers. “I could’ve been dead in there for all you know.”

Reid’s eyes are glued to the next clue, not a care in the world. “Not really,” he utters. A slow smile forming on his right cheek. You get a better look at that chewed cap between his teeth. The way his lips pull with his smile. They look sweet, like gentle and supple to the touch but also tasting of some sugary berry.

You rake over his body. A sudden desire to take a quick peek. He looks nice in his purple dress shirt. You always appreciated how he wore them, folding the sleeves half way up his forearm. He has a space, a little tanned slit between his shirt and brown corduroys. You find yourself wanting to explore it…

��Agent Reid, are you fucking serious?” you gasp, pinching the side of his leg. He winces, but not just from the bites of your fingers. “Ugh, do you always have to curse like a sailor?”

You laugh, diving your elbow into your pillow and supporting your head with your palm. “Fuck yeah,” you say with a straight face. He scoffs, landing in one of those cute smiles of his.

“Anyway, back to the question at hand,” you say with thin lips. “Did you seriously wear your pants to bed?” Spencer raises his shoulders and hands in defense.

His mouth gaping as he scoffs. “Y-yeah, I did,” he extends his last word in a sing songy tone. Your brows raise as you nod along. “I-I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

The base of your palm returns to your brow bone once again, but this time for an entirely new reason. “I told you to be comfortable,” you say softly. “Yeah, well, comfortable to me may not be comfortable to you,” he retorts. Raising brows as he confidently rests back onto his pillow.

“I don’t buy it,” you shake your head, sucking your tongue against your tooth. Spencer turns towards you, a lip slightly raised, and offended by your reaction. “Don’t buy it?” he asks incredulously. “I don’t buy it worth shit, man,” you enunciate your “t” before bursting into laughter.

He shakes his head in short movements before the words fall from his mouth as quick as an auctioneer. “It’s not like I’ve done this before, okay?” You pause, completely still. Your eyes widening with a small drop of your jaw. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “You’ve never done what before?”

Now it was Spencer’s turn to hide under the covers. You happily join him beneath the surface, scooting closer to his arm until you were touching. “We really don’t have to talk about it,” he spits out, blowing off the topic. Part of you wishes you could respect his desire, but another part is way too curious to not inquire more.

“Spence, have you never…?” you ask quietly, hiding behind his shoulder as you curl onto to your side. His mouth flattens, displaying his classic thinking face. You allow the silence to fill the air, just like you do when you read over a case beside him.

Silence allows his alien brain to work in ways that you could barely understand. With something like this, he should have all the time in the world to consider sharing such a truth with you.

Several minutes go by and your chin stills rests on his quiet shoulder. “I’ve never been in bed with,” he starts but quickly shuts down. You raise from his side, giving him your full attention. A comforting hand at his peck as you draw his eyes to you. “It’s okay,” you say softly and sincerely. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Annoyed, Spencer pulls the covers from his face and kicks his feet off the mattress. You find a part of you aching for him with every inch he pulls away from you. “Spencer,” you call out as he reaches for his keys. “I really don’t want you to go.” You take a deep breath, hoping he won’t leave - fully knowing that even if he did, you would see him again later that day.

He slows his movements, sustaining his furrowing brow. “Come lay back down with me,” you ask softly. “Please?” He runs his tongue over his teeth. His fingers playing with those dancing keys. “We only have,” you jump onto his side of the mattress. You extend your arm to reach the alarm clock, struggling your first two tries. “Look, only an hour. We can go in together.”

You pull the only stunt you had left. The pouty lip and your bestest puppy dog eyes. “Pleaaasseee.”

Spencer rolls his neck back, groaning as he does. Putting on a real show, just to crawl back into bed with you. “You’re more insufferable than I thought,” he utters with a tiny smirk.

“You’re more cuddly than I thought.” Your chin returns to his shoulder. A leg curls over his as your hand rests lightly upon his chest. You were completely comfortable beside him, as though he was made just for you.

Hesitant at first, you feel his arm wrap around your lower back. He runs his big, soft hand up and down your torso. You could easily fall asleep, right here in his arms.

As you dig deeper into his embrace, you feel his gentle fingers accidentally finding their way beneath your shirt. He makes the same motion under the cloth, only you could actually feel the warmth of his palms this time.

Each touch of his skin to yours creates an explosion that floods your body with adrenaline. You were tired? Nope. You’re wide awake now. The blood embarrassingly makings it way down to the pit of your stomach.

Unknowingly, your legs tighten their hold of Spencer’s thigh and calf. Your eyes widen once recognizing the firm girth pressing against your inner thigh. Your body stills, desperate not to pull any attention to anything going on.

Thoughts of your hand traveling down his stomach flash in your mind. Spencer has always had a piece of your heart, from the day you met him, but as the years went by, you came to accept the futility of your budding, romantic relationship.

Like a deer in headlights, you remain frozen beside him. Silence lives between you two yet again, but this time, there’s something new - something your partnership has never experienced.

You could hear his breathing. How it hitches any time he tries to adjust himself. How every other breath is held for at least five to seven seconds before finally being released into an exhale.

You bite your lip, putting all your effort into not squeezing your inner thigh against his thick cock. A deep exhale pushes from your lips.

You decided long before that it would never work between you two. On top of that, you wouldn’t dare be so careless to be one of his firsts without sincerely wanting to give this a shot.

Your heart bursts with each beat, practically breaking your ribs in the process. “Spencer,” you whisper. He hums at your voice, being pulled from his own trail of confusing thoughts. “Can I touch you?”

You tuck into his shoulder, cringing at your own words. It’s enough embarrassment to make him chuckle and fill your cheeks a rosie red. “You’re already touching me,” he answers sweetly.

You press your forehead against his soft skin. He’s really going to make you say it. The worst part is that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. You raise your eyes to him just to see that he was already peering back at you. “Spence,” you sigh. The innocent, giddy smile he was sporting slowly dissipated as he rakes over your face - searching for some behavior, some clue that will give him the answer to your worry.

You gulp, painfully waiting for his brilliant mind to figure out the world’s most transparent puzzle. This silence was unbearable. You could hear your heart in your ears. Is your that your throat closing? Or do you just have anxiety? Either way, your body screams for the emergency exit.

You mumble, “I should probably get ready,” while sitting up from your comfortable rest. Spencer grabs your wrist, a tight grip that excited you. As your eyes lock, he softly says, “Yes.”

Heart racing. Breath quickening. You return back to his side, laying a delicate head against his chest. Your hand slowly trails down his sternum and onto his stomach. Your thigh digs into his as you curl into him.

Spencer bites his lip as your fingers hook beneath his pant’s waistline. He closes his eyes, running a tongue over his bottom lip. “Can I?” you ask, flicking your eyes up to him as you unhook his button. A slow hand as you pull down the zipper. He nods with a shake that vibrates across his body.

It isn’t long before you could feel the heat resonating off of it. God, you mouth salivates - dying to feel it’s firmness, it’s girth. You melt beside him, wanting nothing more than to hear sweet moans as he cums.

Spencer hisses, almost as though the touch was too much, but he slowly eases into it. Your fingers dip beneath his tight, black boxer briefs. The band pushing against your skin as you slide deeper. Light brown, tightly wound curls flourish beneath your fingertips. His base is thick and enticing. You quickly raise your eyes, clenching your jaw upon the sight.

His tongue lightly floats to his top teeth before taking in a quick inhale. A brief glimpse at his subtle confidence and it is confirmed - he could have had you on your knees way before this. Your hand trails down until your fingers wrap gently around his girth. A shaky breath escapes you when your index finger barely meets your thumb.

Upon the sensation, Spence’s breath hitches and he takes a slow blink. His mouth slightly opens in anticipation as you raise your grasp upon him. Your fingers squeezing tight. A thumb brushing at the threshold of his tip. He gasps, finally dropping the pen between his fingers. “T-that, oh god, that feels so good,” he coos. His body tenses beneath you.

As you quicken, Spencer’s chin grasps for the heavens above. His hand innately digs nails into the small of your back. Your fingers squeeze tighter with each downward movement.

The sight of him causes a rose tinted haze. The blood buzzing in your ears. Your heat slowly grinds against his leg. He hums beside you as you time your rutting hips with your tugging hand.

Abruptly, his hands press into your cheeks and guide you to his lips. You gasp before closing your eyes and crashing onto his torso. You taste each other in a way that sends shockwaves throughout your body.

His lips slightly part, inviting your tongue within. However, he is the one who gently slicks his tongue across your lip. He is the one that presses its tenderness against your own. Your fingers wrack through his waved brunette locks.

Spencer’s hands reach for your hips, pulling you further onto him. His grip is a pleasant mix of a caveman craving his woman and a soft, gentle lover. You cannot help but dig your hips further against his. You wanted more. You wanted him beneath you. To feel him twitch against you.

You straddle his waist, placing your own hands on the sides of his beautiful face. Your hair falls like a curtain as you pull away to take a breath. A smile sprawls across his face. His hand brushing the hair behind your ear with eyes raking over your features.

Lowering yourself down onto him, you pause before your lips touch. Eyes locking onto each other. An energy buzzes between you both. The very same energy you felt the first time you met him. You are the one to pull your gaze as you slam your lips against his.

Placing one hand upon his chest for stability, the other dives between you two and finds it home around his cock. The wrapping of your fingers leads to his breath hot against your mouth. A smile perking between your cheeks any time his sharp, hot breaths tickle your lips.

Spencer’s hands rub down your back, dragging your tank top down with him. His palms warm your waist before his fingers curl into the hem of your panties. He pulls the thin cloth down, dragging it against your outer thighs. His eyes are glued to yours as he raises his chin, begging for your kiss.

Dropping your panties to your ankle, you can feel the heat boiling in your belly. You lower yourself against him. Your wet, heat grinds against his firm rod. He bites back a moan. You press your cheek against his as you nip at his earlobe. “Oh, yes, just like that,” he purrs.

His touch pushes you off the cliff of euphoria. Your mind completely buzzed from his sensual touch. You could feel his hips grinding back onto you. Those shaky breaths leaving him.

You suddenly become overstimulated by the feel of your clothes. Your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt but he quickly stops you. His hands cupping yours as he shushes you. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me.”

Spencer lightly brings your hands back to his chest. His fingers reach the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. His breath stalls upon the sight of your uncovered breasts. A tongue traveling across his lip as he shudders.

A gaping mouth as he slowly inches towards you. His tongue slightly leading the way. With a beaming grin, you lean into his kiss, feeling yourself crash into his hold. He hums against you. “Don’t stop kissing me,” he pleads softly between pecks.

Your arms hug around his neck, pressing your lips against his. Your hips grind against him, wanting more and more. “Mmm’never,” you mumble. His hands slide up the sides of your waist, traveling ever so slowly until they cup your breasts. His dick twitches between your legs, making you gasp ever so lightly.

Spencer presses his fingers into your lower back. He pins you forward until his mouth crashes upon your nipple. You moan at his wet touch, taking sharp breaths as you drop your head down. “Shit, shit,” you whisper.

His tongue circles around your sensitive skin. Your nipple hardening upon his touch, making him drool more than he already is. “Don’t stop,” you mewl. Your breath escapes you with each flick of his tongue.

Spence’s lips press softly into your skin, making their way to your other side. As his breath heavies, he leans closer and closer into your bosom. Your fingers crash into his waved locks, pulling him tight against you.

Firm teeth lightly envelop your nipple. A bit tighter than you expected. You wince, letting out a hiss that forces him to drop your breast from his suckling. “Too hard?” he asks innocently. Those gentle eyes peer up at you, leaving a twinkling flutter to your belly.

You lift your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Your hand brushes through his brunette locks as you pull him closer into your chest. A scrunch to your nose and you plant a long winded kiss across his lips. A squeeze to your lids and you pull away, even though your body screams at you for doing so.

"Not hard enough, Dr. Reid."

Spencer's eyes open just as his lungs suck in a large breath of air. His gentle hands at your waist now dig into your skin, twisting both your bodies until he rests heavily upon you. His hands reach for your own, wrapping at the wrist and burrowing them into your pillow.

His honey eyes look deep into your soul. They rake over the features of your face. He pulls one of your wrists to his other hands, holding your arms above your head. He then takes his free hand to brush a soft thumb against your cheek bone, down the side of your jaw, and against your lips.

As soon as his eyes return to yours, the words fall from his delicate mouth. "Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?"

You bite your lip, holding back a screaming moan that you didn't know you were capable of. Your head immediately nodding, fully submitting to his intoxicating power. As you do, his thumb pulls at your lip, dragging it down to your chin before placing it gently once more at your cupid's bow. "Good girl."

Spencer's kiss land softly upon your neck. His waving hair tickles the sides of your face as you push against his restraints. Your body innately wishing to hold him, to pull him closer onto your skin - but his fingers squeeze tighter against your wrists. He won't let you go. No, he won't let you out of his grasp, not until he's done with you.

Little moans escape you as his silky pecks travel down to your collar bone. Your lower half folds into him. Legs tightening at his waist, trying to pull him in closer and closer.

His hips bury themselves into you. His breath hot upon your skin, struggling to maintain the sanctity of each kiss. But you can feel it. You can feel him twitching against your thigh. You mewl at the thought of him. They always said the tall, lanky boys had the biggest...

Spencer's forehead presses at your chest, balancing his weight as his fingers massage against your heat. He lets out a low hum as his thumb forms light circles upon your bud. "You're so wet," he whispers before pressing another kiss on your skin. "Are you wet because of me?"

A question so innocent and sweetly asked. His eyes evading from yours as he lands more kisses on your sternum and stomach. You could barely stand it. Your heart flutters in a way that sucks the breath right from under you.

"I've been wet and dying for you to touch me since you got in my bed."

That sweet smile slowly forms on his right side as he dives in for another kiss. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking gently. Your back arches, pushing your chest further into his warm, drooling mouth. Tight teeth dig onto your sensitive skin making you wince aloud, followed by a tight grin.

His fingers slip under your panties’ hem, slowing dragging them down your legs. He leaves them hooked around your right ankle as his fingers massage into your inner thighs. The sensation almost overwhelming as you take in a harsh breath and adjust yourself beneath him.

"Little sensitive, baby girl?" Spencer asks before crashing his lips on your hip bone. His grasp slowly loosening as his large palm drags down to your sternum. You jump at the fluttering feeling, wanting nothing more than his head between your thighs.

"Let me make you feel better," he utters as his thumb rubs those tight little circles against your clit again. His kisses haunt your heat. His tongue only a mere few inches away, but busy loving on the pudge of your upper thigh.

Hesitantly, your hands float down to your sides. His pecks grow closer and closer to your swollen bits. The wait is becoming almost too much to bear. "Spence," you whimper breathlessly. His touch now like fire against your skin, bursting electricity throughout your body but in such an unnerving way.

You know what your body wants, what it craves.

His head raises, eyes on yours, but his tongue drags up your stomach. He rests against your chest, hands laid on each other with his chin upon them like the cherry on a sundae. "Yes?" he asks with a hint of musicality in his inflection.

"I - I can't take it anymore," you whine, burying the crown of your head into the pillow beneath it. "Please." Your eyes return to him just as that small smile plasters upon his cheek. He moves his hands back to your hips, planting kisses on your stomach until he reaches the very top of your heat.

Spencer's tongue slowly navigates its way down your slit. A loud exhale escapes you and you can finally relax. Your body completely in love with the euphoria it is receiving from the strong muscle.

In the lonely nights where you allowed yourself to wonder, you had always imagined guiding the sweet boy through the process. Teaching him how to lick, where to lick, how fast to lick, and how deep to go.

Not a single ounce of your body was prepared for SS Agent, Dr. Spencer Reid to destroy your pussy without you uttering a single word.

Your fingers find themselves tangled deep within his hair. Your torso curves up to the heavens as you struggle to fathom the undeniable pleasure between your legs. His palm adds a degree of pressure to your breast that sends sparkles to your vision. His fingernails dig into the flesh, but two fingers specifically tend to your nipple - ensuring that it remain hard for him.

Spencer hums against you. The vibrations feel divine, teleporting you to heaven and dropping you back down at an alarming rate. Never once has a man made you feel this fucking good. And, fuck, is it even better knowing that Reid is the one that is making you pray that the licks never stop.

Gradually, you feel his fingers gathering slick within your folds. He releases deep guttural groan upon your touch. The sensation knocks your eye balls right to the back of your head. One palm rests upon his head, while the other digs into the sheets at your side.

He pulls from your heat, breathless as he does. "M'God, you're so wet," he murmurs. His finger flirts with your hole, circling it with a slight pressure. "Do you want it?"

You mewl at his words. You would have never seen him coming. Not this Spencer Reid. Your mind screams at you, screams at you for convincing yourself not to give this a shot, for convincing yourself out of it. "Yes, I want it," you whisper without another second of hesitation.

His grin smirks as a hand rests lightly upon your inner thigh. His thumb rubbing tiny circles into your skin. His breath is hot and heavy against your most sensitive part. His tongue rips between you, flicking the tip against your bud.

Raising his head to watch your reaction, Spencer gradually dives his middle finger within. Your gummy walls take him in, begging for so much more that just a finger. Your chin raises as curses fall from your lips. His smile broadens, beams at the sight. He must like your cursing now...

You can feel his finger brushing ever so lightly against your bumpy surface. Your knees weaken, legs barely holding on. "More," you plead as your hips begin to rut against his delicious fingers.

"Beg for it, Agent," Spencer demands.

Grinding against his fingers, against his face, your eyelashes flutter as you dig deeper into the mattress. "Please, Spence. Please, baby. Please, fuck me." You whine lightly, finding yourself willing to do just about anything to feel more of this pleasure.

He obliges, delving his ring finger in and curling to brush against your G spot. You feel light headed, like the Earth was actually on a globe and someone just spun the shit out of it. You can barely hold back your moans.

Spencer dives in past his second knuckle. Once your walls adjusted to his fingers, he quickens his movement. He lets out breathless moans at the sound of your skin slapping against his. "Oh god," he groans between sweet licks of your clit.

His fingers thrust deeper within you. His delicate hands move quickly, faster than expected. "You're so tight," he whines as he pulls his mouth from your heat and plants a kiss rough and firm against your lips. His tongue plunges against yours, dancing in tandem. Both being barely contained by each other's mouths.

Each push of his fingers forces a whimper from your throat. Spencer moans in response against your lips. He could feel you tightening around his thick fingers. "You're close, aren't you, my baby?" His rhythm is sustained as an unnerving pit rests in the bottom of your stomach.

He breathes heavily against you, pressing his forehead upon yours. His eyes peer down at your body. He enjoys watching your body heave beneath him, watching it twist and wiggle around in pleasure. "Cum for me, baby," he whispers into your ear.

Almost as though you unknowingly needed Spencer's permission, the rubber band in your stomach bursts and your thighs clench around him. The lightheaded feelings returns as you slowly grind against his hand. His fingers still within your pulsating walls. He grinds his cock against your thigh, desperate to get out.

His hand slowly finds it way to your cheek, rubbing a soft thumb across the bone. Your breath heavies as you gradually fall from your high. He guides your chin down as he places a firm peck upon your forehead. He raises your eye line back to him before resting his lips against yours sweet and soft.

"Mmm'you're so good to me," Spencer breathes against your mouth. Another peck and you swear you could see stars. You hum against his kisses, wrangling your fingers through his chocolate waved hair. "You've definitely done that before, haven't you?" you ask.

He runs his tongue across his lips, maintaining his gaze with yours. "I’ve done my research," he whispers before raising the back of your hand to his lips. He lightly lands beside you, hooking his other arm behind your head as he pulls you closer into his embrace.

With a smile and fluttering lashes, your hand travels down the center of his chest and his stomach. Eyes searching for the light brown hair of his happy trail. You bite your lip before flicking your eyes back to his.

Using the base of your palm, you press firmly upon the outline of his girth. Your mouth salivates, flashing thoughts of his cock pushing past your lips. "Mmmmm," Spencer vibrates deep within his throat. His eyes closing as he tilts his head onto yours.

Your finger tips lightly brushing against his boxers. Your own breath hitches as you can clearly feel outline of the mushroomed head. Electricity bursts in you or stomach once again as you massage your fingers up and down his staff.

Spencer groans, faint whispered curses fall from his perfectly innocent lips. "D-don't stop..." he whimpers.

The sound of twinkling bells fill the air.

Your head immediately raises as his eyelids flutter open. "Shit!" You reach for your phone, gripping onto it tight just to reveal the 6:30am alarm. You wince, furrowing your brows as you unwillingly are pulled from the magical and euphoric morning.

Landing back against the mattress, you burrow your head into his neck. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in for a tight squeeze. "It's time," Spencer whispers against your forehead before placing a light kiss. You whine into the crook of his neck, never wanting to leave the warmth of his hold.

"Shhh," he shushes, brushing back a strand of hair from your face. You curl your face up towards him, sporting a pouty lip. "Are you going to be okay?" you ask with concern, knowing a throbbing cock is not exactly painless.

Spencer smirks, eyes raking over your solemn face, before placing a mind blowing kiss on your lips. "Of course." You blush, tucking your chin as you rest your head against his peck. "Maybe after the case..." he suggests with a bouncing brow.

"Hmmm, or during?" you whisper. "I get lonely in my hotel room." He lets out a harsh, ragged breath before pressing his lips together and forming a straight line. He nods, suddenly becoming nonverbal and only being able to communicate with gestures.

The flattery forces a giggle and a blush to your cheeks. Leaving one more kiss onto those sweet, chapped lips, you start to make your way out of bed. He places a supporting hand to the base of your spine as you raise and hook your legs over the side of the bed. You stand, reaching for your trusty work clothes, as your panties slide to your ankle.

Grabbing hold of your dress shirt, you fling your arms through the sleeves before turning back to him to button up. You catch his glimmering eyes watching you, causing you to pause and smile yourself.

"Can we still walk in together?" Spencer asks with eyes scanning your body from head to toe.

"Of course."

note: thanks for entertaining my need for reid! reblog if you enjoy por favor!

• nav • no-no plagiarism • requests open • one shot •

[use-your-imagination98]

GH Couples Inspired By Taylor Swift Songs

Had this in my drafts for FOREVER. thought it was a good time to post it haha. 

Alan and Monica: The Last Great American Dynasty

And they said

"There goes the last great American dynasty"

"Who knows if she never showed up, what could've been"

Luke and Laura: My Tears Ricochet

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

Luke and Tracy: Better Man

I know

I’m probably better off all alone

Than needing a man who could

Change his mind at any given minute

Laura and Scotty: New Year’s Day

Please don't ever become a stranger

Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Laura and Kevin: Lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Kevin and Lucy: Delicate

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

Frisco and Felicia: Closure

Yes, I'm doing better

I know that it's over, I don't need your

Closure

Mac and Felicia: Ours

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

Robert and Anna:  It's Nice to Have a Friend

Call my bluff, call you "babe"

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Anna and Valentin: Sparks Fly

My mind forgets to remind me, your a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be

Sonny and Brenda: The 1

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

Sonny and Carly: Haunted

​​You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

Sonny and Alexis: Blank Space

So hey, let's be friends

I'm dying to see how this one ends

Stone and Robin: Sad Beautiful Tragic

We had a beautiful magic love there

What a sad beautiful tragic love affair

Robin and Patrick: This Love

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead

Lucky and Elizabeth: Tolerate It

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Nikolas and Emily: Happiness

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you

Nikolas and Elizabeth: Dress

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They've got no idea about me and you

Ned and Alexis: Stay Stay Stay

You took the time to memorize me

My fears, my hopes and dreams

I just like hanging out with you

All the time

Alexis and Julian: Death By A Thousand Cuts

I get drunk but it's not enough

'Cause you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

LuLu and Dante: Wildest Dreams

Someday when you leave me

I bet these memories

Follow you around

Sam and Jason: It’s Time To Go

15 years, 15 million tears

Begging 'til my knees bled

I gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all

Then wondered why I left

Sam and Dante: Cardigan

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Chase and Brook Lynn: Mastermind

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended up in the same room

At the same time

Spencer and Trina: Invisible String

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Cameron and Jossyln: Karma

Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant

You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

Elizabeth and Franco: Red

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

Maxie and Nathan: Enchanted

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

[heartfullofleeches]

Erin's feelings if you showed romantic interest in Spencer...

Erin has always had moments where he's wanted to kill Spencer.

This is the one he might finally do it.

The boy has had a rough life, okay? Parents always fighting, getting jumped by his brother's rival gang, his sibling leaving when he needed them most. The love he has for you is the most genuine of any kind he's felt in years. It's a breath of fresh air and it fucking hurts, but the pain feels so damn amazing at the end of the day.

Spencer has everything. A stable job and friends. Better opportunities lined up when he finishes college. He didn't even seem to care when Ben went missing. He's who Erin was told to look up to and he hates that. He never wanted that. All he needed was just a brother.

Most of Erin's hatred for the world has been dumped into the sadness he feels around their situation. To see the love of his life fall for his enemy is a betrayal like no other. The grief will crush him and it feels like he's died on the spot. He will lash out more. He'll do whatever he can to make you see he's the better choice. He'll cry.

If his issues don't get resolved and you get with Spencer someone is dying. Whether it's him or Erin is all on Erin's hands.

[aperrywilliams]

We Could Try (Part 8): Stay With Me (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist / Clueless (prequel)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: The team finds out where Turpin has Valerie and Reader. Will they get there on time?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst. Case's description. A hostage situation with blows, cuts, and blood is described. Hospital things and CM usual stuff. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Here is another chapter, folks! The next one will be the last of this series. Thank you for your support so far. I love y'all!

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'Spencer? Spencer! Stay with me!'

(Y/N) held Spencer's head as she put some pressure on his neck where the wound was located. Everything around them was a mess. Gunshots were coming and going, and (Y/N) only could focus on why, for God's sake, the paramedics couldn't reach them faster.

Spencer barely blinked and was trying to say something, but (Y/N) insisted on him not doing it.

'Stay with me. Just squeeze my hand. Don't talk; you need the oxygen.'

'I - I lo-' he mumbled but couldn't finish because he passed out. At that moment, (Y/N) freaked out. When she was about to crumble, the paramedics arrived and started to check on Spencer. Morgan held her tight from her middle section to separate from him so the paramedics could do their job.

Hotch didn't let her ride in the ambulance, but he drove them - (Y/N), Blake, and JJ - to the hospital.

The hours waiting for news about Spencer's condition were endless. (Y/N) paced from one corner to another, biting her nails. Her friend could die, and she couldn't do anything. Yeah, her 'friend.'

Seven years on the team, and (Y/N) still didn't confess her feelings for her coworker and friend. Maybe she has lost her chance. The thought was unbearable. (Y/N) swore that if Spencer made it, she would tell him everything.

When the doctor announced Spencer would fully recover, (Y/N) breathed again. Hotch - who always knew about (Y/N) and Spencer pinning for each other without them even knowing - instructed (Y/N) to stay with him as the rest of the team worked to wrap the case and catch the bastard shot Spencer.

She didn't leave his side for hours, grabbing his hand and squeezing it to convince herself he was alive and will be okay.

-

(Y/N)?! Can you hear me?

A frantic voice rang in (Y/N)'s ears. Spencer?

Recovering her senses, she realized the voice wasn't Spencer's. It was Valerie's.

That meant two things: she was still alive, and Valerie was still alive. However, the pain and numbness in various parts of her body told her she was not in the best condition. (Y/N) couldn't move her body, and it was hard for her to breathe. The son of a bitch had given her a good beating.

"(Y/N), please tell me something. Tell me anything," Valerie spoke again.

Valerie watched her breathe, but she didn't know for how long. There was terror in her voice. The fear that (Y/N) was dying.

"How long has it been since he left?" (Y/N) murmured. Valerie sighed, somewhat relieved when she heard her voice.

"Half an hour or so," she responded by watching intently as (Y/N) moved her body to regain some consciousness.

(Y/N) knew they didn't have much time left. She suspected the team knew everything by now, and they were trying to find Turpin's location. But it was unlikely that both could be saved at the same time. And given the conditions, Valerie had a better chance.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered to Valerie. "It's important," she added.

Valerie didn't know if she was going to like what she was going to hear.

-

"But in this case, significant to whom? Valerie or (Y/N)? Or both?" Rossi asked. They were discussing where Turpin could have (Y/N) and Valerie.

"Their paths never crossed before. I mean, until, well-"Luke trailed off, looking at Spencer.

"Until me. Yeah. I know," Spencer finished Luke's statement. The team members looked at each other knowingly, but Green didn't understand. He was about to ask when Prentiss interrupted.

"I hate to say this, but it has to do with (Y/N). She's the alpha here. She's a threat to Turpin. Not Valerie."

Spencer was aware that Emily might be right, which meant that possibly (Y/N) was having the worst time right now. He racked his head for somewhere in New York that might have meaning to (Y/N) and Turpin might know about.

"Some place she could have mentioned regarding her job in Boston and linked to New York?" JJ urged.

"I'm thinking! She barely has left the city if it was not to come to DC!" Spencer reacted, pacing in the room.

"There is no way he could know about her in DC. He knows her from the investigation the Boston department did," Emily concluded.

Something clicked on Spencer after Emily's words.

"She told me once she couldn't come to DC because of a seminar she needed to attend out of Boston. Four months ago," Spencer mentioned.

"Garcia, search for a seminar (Y/N) attended four months ago. Possibly in New York," Rossi instructed. They were holding their breath until Garcia spoke.

"Sorry folks, she was a speaker in a seminar four months ago, but it was in Filadelfia. There are no flights or bookings of her in New York until now."

"Shit," Rossi mumbled. Spencer shook his head.

"Wait. What was it about? What did she present?"

Garcia typed for a couple of seconds. Emily looked at Spencer, confused.

"Oh! You're a boy genius, indeed," Garcia chirped. "She presented two cases about serial killers on the loose—the killings of New Haven, Providence, and Boston. And! the killings in Astoria Park two years ago. In both, she consulted." she clarified.

"That's how he knew about her. Turpin knew she was working on the case," Tara commented.

"What about the Astoria Park case?" Spencer asked again.

"In the presentation, she mentioned both cases were highly important for her as an FBI agent, and she compelled the audience to not forget about them," Garcia explained.

"That's it. Turpin knew about that," Luke concluded.

They got everything they could about the Astoria Park cases, crossing references with recent traffic footage and cellphone triangulation. That is how they got an address—an abandoned building located on one corner of Astoria Park where the first victim was found.

"We got you, son of the bitch!" Rossi chimed as the team quickly prepared to go. They knew the time was ticking, and things could turn pretty messy after two days. Green also called the SWAT team to help with the takedown.

Spencer just hoped it wasn't too late and both (Y/N) and Valerie were okay. Bouncing his leg nervously, he could only think of everything he wanted to say to (Y/N).

-

Valerie's screams alerted Turpin that something was happening in the basement. Quickly he grabbed his gun and ran downs stairs. Valerie was yelling at the top of her lungs.

"You killed her! Son of the bitch!"

"What's wrong with you?!" Turpin urged, looking at Valerie for an explanation. Valerie was fully crying, shaking the chains that kept her tied up. Turpin's eyes widened. Turpin knew how badly he had beaten (Y/N), but she was alive when he left, and he thought she could endure a little more. He wasn't done with her yet.

(Y/N) was lying on the floor, in the same position where he had left her a while ago. He moved closer to take her pulse while Valerie continued to yell angrily. Turpin felt some pulse, but it was almost unnoticeable.

"Shut up! She is still alive. Don't be dramatic," Turpin said, moving closer to Valerie now, ready to hit her to stop her screaming. Valerie gulped, seeing him approaching but kept yelling at him.

"Don't lie! You killed her!"

"Enough!" Turpin demanded, hitting Valerie with the back of his hand. "If you don't shut up, I'll kill you first!" She yelped from the blow but turned her head quickly to spit on him.

"You coward!" Valerie yelled again. But when he was about to assert another blow on her, (Y/N) launched over Turpin, pushing him onto the floor. The gun he had, fell a few meters from them.

What happened next was just confusion. Turpin clearly didn't expect to be attacked, almost thinking (Y/N) lay dying on the floor. Now, (Y/N) barely had any strength, but she managed to land a couple of blows that disoriented him. Still, (Y/N) was at a disadvantage. Valerie was still tied up, and (Y/N) had no other weapon except for her own hands.

Instinctively Valerie struggled against her restraints, praying they would give so she could break free. Turpin managed to recover a bit and pushed (Y/N). He quickly went to grab the gun from the floor, but after so much forcing, Valerie managed to free one of her hands, enough to throw her low body onto the gun and kick it in the direction of (Y/N) before Turpin could reach it.

It was a matter of seconds between (Y/N) grabbing the gun and Turpin launching on her to get it back. Valerie watched in horror how they fought and how Turpin was about to take the weapon from (Y/N) 's hands.

-

The team arrived at the building, quickly descending from the SUVs as the police and SWAT cordoned off the area.

But before Green and Prentiss could settle any strategy, two shots were heard from the inside.

"Shit," Prentiss mumbled. Green took the lead and yelled to the SWAT team.

"Go! Go! Go!" 

Then a bunch of SWAT rushed inside.

"No, no, no, no. (Y/N)!" Spencer shouted, ready to run to the entrance, gun in hand. JJ tried to stop him with her hands on his shoulders.

"Spence! We don't know yet what's going on," she reasoned.

"But (Y/N) is in there! I'm not staying here," Spencer broke free of JJ's grasp and kept running towards the shot source. His heart was beating fast and, in his mind, only one thought: 'she has to be okay; please let her be okay.'

When Spencer reached the basement, (Y/N) was on her knees, arms still holding the gun towards Turpin, who was on the floor, dead. Valerie was in a corner, her free arm covering her head.

(Y/N) looked frozen on the spot, her hands shaking.

"(Y/N), can you hear me?" Spencer asked cautiously, approaching and holstering his gun. "He's dead. Hey, look at me. It's over."

(Y/N) looked so far away. Her trembling hands didn't falter the grip of the gun, though. It was like being in alert mode but only focused on the threat, not the surroundings. Spencer knew so well that headspace, and it broke him to witness it on (Y/N).

"Yeah. It's me. Come on, give me the gun. It's over (Y/N)"

Spencer slowly approached in hopes of bringing her attention back. (Y/N) looked pale, although all the bruises and blood covered her face. It was like she was about to faint at any moment.

"She's severely injured! She needs a medic!" Valerie yelled at the same time (Y/N) left the gun's grasp and fell to the floor.

Spencer kneeled quickly to catch her before her head could touch the floor.

"Spencer-" she mumbled when their eyes met. Immediately he inspected her body, locating each wound at sight.

"It's okay; it's over. You did it. You caught him," Spencer reassured her.

"I - I didn't know. I'm so-" (Y/N) only could babble at this point. She felt so weak, and even if she didn't want to give up, her body was telling her otherwise.

"I know. I know. It's okay. You are safe now. I promise." But (Y/N) didn't react. She felt her eyes heavy and her body numb.

Tears started pooling from Spencer's eyes.

“(Y/N)? Look at me. Hey, stay with me!" Spencer shouted to catch her attention, but (Y/N) had her eyes shut now, her breathing uneven, and her pulse was barely there.

"We need a medic here!" Valerie kept bawling as a SWAT member untied her.

Two paramedics rushed over (Y/N) to control her vitals. Spencer didn't want to move from her side, but Prentiss, who had entered the basement a few seconds ago, pulled him to give the paramedics room to work.

"We need to move fast! We're losing pulse!" One of the guys checking on (Y/N) shouted as they maneuvered her into the stretcher.

Spencer wiggled to get free from Emily's grasp, but with Luke's help, he couldn't.

"Come on, man. We'll ride to the hospital. Let them do their job," Luke told Spencer.

Another paramedic and Tara were checking on Valerie, who was still shocked by the ordeal. It was hard to believe, and she was grateful for being alive, but she had a sharp feeling of guilt punching her stomach. She had never felt that way before.

-

Spencer hated hospitals. But truth be told, who could like a place like that? Not the BAU members, of course. Each one has had a non-grata experience with hospitals in their life.

Now it wasn't the exception.

Spencer was sitting in the waiting room with JJ, alert for any news about (Y/N) 's condition. Prentiss and Green were dealing with the scene in the basement with Luke and Matt's help. Tara and Rossi were talking to Valerie and getting her statement.

"It took us too long to realize it was him. We wasted too much time. We could have gotten there before he beat her like that," Spencer lamented, his body leaning forward, with his hands holding his head and eyes on the floor.

"Spence, don't do that. You need to focus on her recovery. What it's done, it's done," JJ squeezed his elbow. She wanted to get him out of those guilty thoughts, but Spencer wasn't getting the memo.

"I'm scared, JJ. I'm so fucking scared," he paused to control the urge to cry. "I can't imagine what would be my life if she- if she- God. Not like this, please," he sniffled. JJ hugged him, and Spencer let himself cry in her arms.

"I - I have been so selfish, JJ. I didn't see through and accused her of the same thing I did to her in the past. I'm so stupid." Spencer needed to spill it out. JJ tightened their embrace, but Spencer wasn't done talking yet.

"Time. How absurd that sounds now, uh? I thought time would be enough to fix what I did to her. Now time is escaping through my fingers."

He felt powerless and so afraid. All doubts and mixed feelings he could have before no longer mattered. The love of his life was fighting to stay alive, and Spencer couldn't do anything to help her.

It wasn't entirely clear how much time had passed, but it seemed endless in that waiting room.

Spencer didn't want to move from there until he could have some news. The team showed up a couple of times to check for information too. They were visibly worried but tried to keep their spirit high to prevent Spencer from crumbling.

It was almost night when a doctor came to give an update. Spencer was keeping company with Prentiss at that moment.

"Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" The doctor asked. Emily and Spencer stood at the same time.

"I'm her unit chief Emily Prentiss, and he is agent (Y/L/N) 's boyfriend, doctor Spencer Reid. How's she?" Emily asked. The doctor nodded.

"I'm doctor Roland. I performed the surgery on the agent (Y/L/N). She came in really bad condition and even flatlined a couple of times. But we were able to stabilize her. Her condition is still critical, though. We need to monitor the next few hours. If she can make it through the night, we have good chances."

Emily and Spencer nodded. They understood what that meant. Spencer asked if he could see her, and doctor Roland agreed. Emily knew Spencer wouldn't leave (Y/N) 's side, so she requested updates and promised to come back with some clothes for him.

(Y/N) lay there, several machines controlling her vitals. She had bandages on her head and arms. Spencer suspected the rest of her body was in a similar condition. Her face showed dark bruises and red marks from the dried blood.

"Hey, love. The doctor said I could stay here with you tonight. Is that okay? I hope it does," Spencer mumbled, approaching the bed. His hands were shaking.

He kept there, contemplating her- watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. Confirmation that she was still there.

Spencer felt a lump in his throat from fear and the stuck words he hadn't been able to get out in months. 

As the distance grew between them, Spencer could tell that something was wrong, but he didn't think (Y/N) 's doubts were still hunting them closely, and he was to blame for that.

"I know you're still mad at me. I'm so sorry. But I promise I didn't want to hurt you. I love you too much to ever think of doing it. I mean, I know I did back then. And I hated myself for that. I still do."

Adrian's words echoed in Spencer's head: (Y/N) had left DC because of him, because of his poor decisions and the foolish idea that by pushing (Y/N) away, he could protect her from himself. That seemed so stupid now when she was lying in that hospital bed.

"You know? My therapist told me I needed to consider what I wanted for our relationship. That I already made all the amends I had to, but all possible amendments still seem so insignificant compared to the pain I caused you."

His shaky, scratchy voice was evidence of the tears he had shed in the last few hours. Spencer cleared his throat to keep talking, hoping that maybe (Y/N) could hear him.

"You said that you didn't trust me enough yet. And I understand. I thought time would be enough to get that trust back, but I didn't notice you weren't ready. And I pushed it. Selfishly I pushed it."

His hands held one of hers. Despite the hospital's cold, Spencer could feel the warmth of her touch. Gently stroking her hand, he wanted to feel closer to her.

"I promise not to do it again. But please, come back to me, my love. Stay with me. Please," Spencer begged with tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

Spencer truly hoped that (Y/N) could hear him in some capacity - that he could convince her to keep fighting.

-

After being discharged, Valerie asked a nurse about (Y/N) 's condition, and the nurse told her what room (Y/N) was in.

Valerie peeked through the door and saw Spencer in a chair, an arm stretched, holding (Y/N) 's hand. It was nearly midnight by now; maybe not a good time to show up, but she was already there.

"Hey. Sorry for bothering you," Valerie apologized, peaking Spencer's attention. He turned to look at her, giving a slight nod.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" Spencer asked, seeing the bandages she sported and the cast holding her right arm.

"I'm okay. Just a sprain and a couple of bruises and cuts. How's (Y/N) doing?" Valerie hastened to ask, stepping inside the room.

"She hasn't woken up yet. The doctor says if she can make it through the night, she has better chances," Spencer informed.

Valerie could see all the distress written on Spencer's face. It was painful for anyone could see. 

"I'm sure she is fighting. She'll make it," Valerie said, eyeing the girl in the hospital bed. Spencer frowned as he stood to grab a cup of water from the side table.

"You don't have to be kind, Valerie. You don't even need to be here. You can go home," Spencer said before sipping from the cup. Valerie nodded.

"I know, but that woman saved my life. Kind is the least I can be," she stated. Spencer squinted his eyes at her. Was she being honest, or was it another Valerie's thing before coming up with an ominous remark?

"Yeah. It's not something I like to say, but I owe (Y/N)," Valerie continued. She knew Spencer didn't believe her and didn't blame him. "Ironic, uh? I mean, after the things between us and how 'highly' I spoke about her in the past," Valerie sighed at Spencer's frown. "Spencer, I'm not proud of what I did. And you don't have to believe me at all, but it's true."

Spencer blinked a couple of times, trying to think what to say. He was tired, and the last he wanted was to deal with Valerie and that story. It was too much already.

"I don't want to be rude, but it doesn't matter if I believe you," Spencer said, shooking his head.

"Understandable. I just wanted you to know something, though. She asked me to tell you something, actually." Valerie said, flicking her gaze between (Y/N) and Spencer.

"She did what?" Spencer asked in disbelief.

"After she told me about her plan to get us out of there - well, get me out of there because she was sure she wouldn't make it - (Y/N) made me promise I would tell you how sorry she was. About pushing you away. About doubting of you," Valerie recounted.

"(Y/N) told you that?"

Valerie nodded.

"Yeah. Honestly? I don't think she stopped thinking about you all the time we were there. I heard her mumbling your name a few times."

That wasn't the only thing Valerie wanted to say, though. Since the basement ordeal, she kept thinking about her shared past with (Y/N) and Spencer. Things looked so different now.

People say when you face a near-to-dead experience, you start to question your past decisions and actions. It happened to Valerie, and the summary she got didn't make her feel better.

"I made a mess in your relationship. I know that. It doesn't matter why I did it, but I did it. And the extent of my doing? It doesn't make me proud."

Spencer scoffed. It was nearly unbelievable to him to see Valerie taking the blame he had in the first place.

He did it. He hurt (Y/N). Valerie was involved in his poor decisions, but it was all his doing.

"Well, I guess we are two feeling the same," Spencer muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to another. His finger played unconsciously with the styrofoam cup.

"You know? I can stop thinking about the night she asserted her fist on my nose. It was true I provoked her. You already know that. What you don't know is what I said to her," Valerie prefaced, toying with the cast strap. Spencer sighed, remembering that night. 

"That we were sleeping together before she broke up with me? I already know that. And you knew it was a lie," he said curtly.

"Yeah, that too. But that wasn't all." Spencer quirked an eyebrow. He always wanted (Y/N) could tell him about that night, but she always refused, telling him it was not worth even mentioning. He never pressured her into that again.

Valerie told him everything that happened. This time, all facts, no lies. She recounted that (Y/N) was worried about him. She said that she told (Y/N) to stay away. And most importantly, how insignificant she made (Y/N) feel, telling her she wasn't enough for Spencer and people only pitied her—telling her that she was weak for not fighting for him.

"I hit a nerve. It was clear I did."

Now things made more sense to Spencer, especially what (Y/N) told him in the precinct days ago: 'It's not on you, Spencer. It's - it's on me.' She was insecure, not because Spencer did something this time; it was the fear of that night. The suspicion that Valerie could have been right.

"You told her that?! Valerie, what the fuck?" he asked, exasperated. Valerie couldn't say she was surprised by his reaction.

"I wanted to hurt her. Of course I was going to use that. Again, I'm not proud," she admitted, twitching her nose uncomfortably.

"Why are you telling me this, anyway?" Spencer folded his arms over his chest. Valerie shrugged. She wasn't sure why either.

"I guess it's because I'm being selfish. I needed to let it out. And you needed to know. (Y/N) was right. I didn't love you the way you deserved. But she did, and she does. Seeing you two these past few days made me realize that (Y/N) is your match in so many ways. That commitment to others and dedication? It's what your jobs mean to you." Spencer looked confused. Valerie continued. "You belong here, Spencer. I thought you didn't, but I was wrong. You are made to be a profiler and to work in the BAU. And most importantly, you belong to her. You deserve her, and she deserves you. And I know you don't give a shit what I think or say, but it's true. I think you should know."

"Does it matter if it's possible that she never could make it?" he asked bitterly. Valerie pursed her lips in a tight line.

"It matters because you will have the chance to be together again. And it matters because you need to ensure she doesn't doubt her worth again. No matter if a woman like me tries to get her nerve."

It was the first thing Valerie had said that Spencer was willing to take as advice in a long time. Perhaps it was the certainty with which she said 

he and (Y/N) would have the chance to be together again. Or maybe because now things made sense, and Spencer was determined to prove to (Y/N) that his heart could never belong to another person.

Spencer sat in the chair to stare at (Y/N) without saying a word to Valerie. What could he say? Valerie took that as her cue to leave the room in silence. And so she did.

This time would be the last Spencer would see Valerie Smith in his life.

-

When Spencer opened his eyes, he saw (Y/N)'s head resting on the mattress and felt her hand holding his. Life was giving him a new opportunity, and he wouldn't waste another minute without saying what it was stuck in his chest for years now.

'I love you,' he rasped. It was almost a whisper but enough to wake up (Y/N). She didn't register the words he said, just for the emotion of seeing him awake.

'Oh God, Spencer. I was so scared. I thought you-' She stopped her rant when it hit her. 'What?' Spencer's eyes were filled with adoration, the way he always looked at (Y/N).

'I love you, (Y/N). I have been in love with you for ages.' he paused to take a breath. He still felt weak after the surgery. 'And I'm sorry I didn't say anything before and for doing it now,' he took another pause. 'And I know that you don't feel the same, but I can't die and not tell you how I feel. I'm sorry.'

(Y/N)' s eyes widened. Was Spencer in love with her? It was a huge irony and a relief at the same time. She brought Spencer's hand to her lips and planted a loving kiss on it. Spencer looked at her oddly.

'Well, it happens that you beat me this time, doctor Reid. I was about to confess my utter love for you right now,' she chuckled, happy tears running down her cheeks.

'Really?' Spencer thought he might be dreaming or hallucinating after the surgery. (Y/N) nodded.

'Yeah. I guess we have been blind all these years.'

Spencer beamed. It was really happening.

'God, I love you. Please, let me take you out on a date.'

'As soon as you get out of here.'

Spencer smiled at the memory. He only hoped to get that chance again.

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

Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @maltamurdock @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @chlochlosworld @milivanili99 @thebloomingeagle @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 10: The Truth

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: The gang play a game.

Read chapter 10 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Spencer had been half convinced that the brown paper bag was going to burst open with a billowing cloud of fine white powder containing spores of deadly anthrax. He couldn’t get the image out of his head.

There had been too many times in his life where he was fairly certain he was about to die, and the anthrax exposure had honestly not even been the most harrowing, all things considered. He hadn't been restrained, or beaten, or drugged, or alone.

But something about the insidiousness of turning his own body against him was sticky. It adhered to his nervous system in a different way to acts of violence.

Hours after the bag had revealed its contents as six bottles of Ensure, he was still flinching at specks of dust.

The vital nutrients from the ensure- including the protein that had been desperately lacking in their all fruit diet even prior to the outright starvation- were working their magic. He had some semblance of energy again.

He had hoped that the return of their food supply would restore his capacity to feel, but no such luck. The best he could summon up was vague irritation.

It was getting harder and harder to tell when he was dreaming or awake.

The Unsub had left them to starve just long enough that they were all convinced that she was going to let them die like that. He wasn't so sure that this was better.

They all speculated on the likelihood of the next delivery reverting back to fruit. The Ensure was certainly the better option for keeping them from dying of malnutrition, but a liquid diet had its own concerns. The lack of door on the en-suit toilet continued to be a crushing blow.

“I feel like we should be doing something,” said Emily. “Like planning our next move.”

“Agreed,” said Derek, who had been tapping his foot non-stop for one hour, three minutes, and 28 seconds. Spencer had been counting the seconds in his mind because... well, it was something to do. “We need to force her into making another move.”

“We’re still recovering from the last move we forced her to make,” said Hotch. “I agree we need to take action, but right now we’re all too weak to take the physical strain of what happened last time.”

Emily looked like she was about to argue, but after a second, she just said, “Maybe. Let’s see if these deliveries keep coming and reassess when we know for sure that our food supply is consistent.”

“Or we could take more extreme measures,” said Derek.

There was a chill that rippled through the room.

“Like what?” asked JJ cautiously.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. His eyes flickered over all of them. They caught Spencer’s for a moment, and he knew instantly what Derek wanted to say, because he’d had the same thought himself.

They probably all had.

If the Unsub was determined not to let them die, they all knew what to do to provoke her.

Still, they stared questioningly at Derek in a façade of ignorance.

“Never mind,” he said. “Emily is right. We’ll reassess when we know more.”

He'd hoped that getting food would feel like a victory.

The second delivery came sometime later, maybe 12 hours, maybe days, he didn’t know. The third delivery came some time after that. This one brought a return of the fruit, but retained the bottles of Ensure. The fruit and the shakes combined to make a relatively sustainable diet, actually. It could theoretically be maintained for a long, long time.

It did not feel like victory.

They were alive. They were going to stay alive.

For what? For an endless fluorescent day? For mind-numbing tedium? For four walls and an unpredictable cycle of humiliation and discomfort?

The worst of it was how quickly the routine set in.

They went back to sleeping all at the same time to imitate night and day. They went back to daily exercise. They structured their lives around the food deliveries.

Soon, they had a delivery with a little bottle of soap. A reward for good behavior, presumably. He was genuinely grateful for it, which made him feel physically ill to realize.

When was the right time to make a move? How long would they need to endure this before they considered drastic measures?

Nobody wanted to be the first to bring it up.

Spencer found himself longing for another note. Another shocking reveal. Anything, anything at all. Sometimes he would stare up at the vent and fantasize about seeing gas leak out just to feel the adrenaline rush. He wanted to get high. He would do anything to get high.

“Reid.”

His head snapped around to the sound. Rossi was clicking his fingers from across the room, trying to get his attention.

“What?”

“It’s your turn, kid.”

“Why do we keep doing this? You can’t possibly believe it’s actually making a difference.”

“What the fuck else do you have going on in your busy schedule?” shot back Rossi.

“Closing my eyes and pretending I’m alone,” he said irritably. “I was enjoying it.”

“Come on Spence, you know if Rossi doesn’t get at least an hour a day to pretend he’s at a high school girls sleepover party he chucks a tantrum,” said JJ, leaning her head back against the wall behind her and looking as if she’d find reading the dictionary less boring than this.

“So, you can force us all into yoga and go on and on about keeping us healthy, but god forbid I try to keep us sane, that’s just taking it too far,” said Rossi sarcastically.

"Can you all just shut the hell up?” snapped Emily. “We all get one activity. That’s the deal. Spencer, I know you're annoyed that we won't just let you sleep 24/7, but stop bitching for one goddamn second and take your turn.”

“Fine. Dare.”

They all groaned. “You can’t pick dare every time,” said Derek.

“I don’t recall that being in the rules,” said Spencer.

It was round four and he’d already had to try and do a handstand (he couldn’t), see if he could hold his breath longer than Derek (he could but he nearly passed out doing it), and put on a spirited performance of Lady Macbeth’s ‘out damned spot’ monologue (which sounded less spirited than completely monotone).

“The rest of us are playing properly. You have to as well,” said JJ prissily, despite her earlier criticism of Rossi behaving like a teenage girl.

“No, because I already know what you’re going to ask,” said Spencer. “Just give me the dare.”

A chorus of boos echoed in the concrete room. “Come on Reid, if I had to tell you all that story about my disastrous first date with Hayley, you can have your turn,” said Hotch with an amused smirk.

“Yeah,” said Rossi. “You don’t know what we’re going to ask.”

Spencer huffed but relented. “Yes, I do. But whatever. Truth, if it will get you to stop being assholes about it.”

They all looked at each other, barely a second passing before they came to a silent agreement.

Emily threw her hands up to indicate that she wasn't a part of this, but even she looked liked she wanted to see how it all played out.

“Why did you start using again?” asked Derek, like he could trick Spencer into talking using the rules of the game.

He groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I already told you-”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Derek. “Addicts relapse, there’s no rhyme or reason for it, yadda yadda yadda. I call bullshit.”

"How would you even know?" he snapped.

He wasn't really upset, honestly. He'd have to be able to summon stronger feelings than mild annoyance for that to happen. But fighting was something to pass the time. They all did it, but him and Derek made into something of a sport.

It was strange. They had never fought before in any meaningful way. Prior to being in the bunker, Derek was possibly the person he trusted most in the world to be calm and even handed with him no matter what. Maybe that was why it was so easy to prod at him: because he knew it could never break anything between them.

Or maybe it was because Derek felt so betrayed and hurt by him that it was already broken.

Either way, it was something to do.

"Because I know you," said Derek. "Something obviously happened, man, we can all see that."

They all nodded in agreement. Hotch's brows were furrowed and he had dropped the playfulness he'd had only a minute ago, but he hung on every word of the conversation. Even Emily shrugged apologetically, not disagreeing with their assessment.

"Now who's full of shit? You don't know anything. You didn't even know I was using."

Derek opened his mouth to bite back, but JJ beat him to it.

“Come on, Spence. We’re all stuck here. Are you really never going to talk about it?” asked JJ.

“That’s the plan,” he said petulantly. “Since every time I do talk about it you all think you know better, anyway.”

“Fine,” said Rossi. “If you refuse to tell us about whatever made you relapse,” he said, refusing to consider Spencer’s stated position that there was no dramatic triggering event, “we will ask you a different question.”

Derek and JJ looked at each other, both seeming very unwilling to let the subject drop. With a gentle "Come on, guys," from Emily they finally acquiesced.

"Give us a minute to think of a new question," said Rossi diplomatically, as if it would be rude to skip his turn.

"Whatever," said Spencer. "I need the bathroom."

He got up and they all politely focused their attention on each other and away from the doorless bathroom. They raised their voices while he relieved himself, and he pretended they weren't there.

It wasn't an ideal system, but they all pushed through.

After washing his hands, he paused a moment. He reached down to the bolt that was just under the right side of the metal sink, helping to affix it to the concrete wall.

While there was no door, the sink was recessed, not visible to the camera. He fiddled with the bolt silently while the others continued to pointedly not look his way. It was loosening a little more each time he went in there.

He hadn't mentioned it to any of them yet, and nobody else seemed to have noticed it.

He entered back into the main room and retook his position on the floor.

"Good timing," said Rossi. "I believe we have reached an agreement," he said, like the foreman of a jury.

"Don't worry," said Emily with a half smile. "It's nothing too objectionable."

"What-" started Rossi, before he was cut off.

“Why do you do it?”

It took a moment for Spencer to process who had spoken.

Everyone turned to stare at Hotch, who was in turn scrutinizing Spencer. He’d seen that look before, many times since waking up in the bunker.

Hotch was looking at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle with impossibly high stakes.

"Do what?" he asked, not following the train of thought.

Hotch hesitated. "Why do you use drugs?"

"I..." he looked at the others, hoping one of them might explain what he was missing, but they all looked just as baffled as him. "We just went over this-"

Hotch interrupted him. “I'm not asking why you relapsed. I'm asking why do you keep using? What do you get out of it?”

Spencer squirmed. There was something heavy in the way Hotch spoke that broke through the numbness enough to make him feel self-conscious. “Come on Hotch, you are- were- a profiler. What can I tell you that you don’t know?”

The rest of the group was looking back and forth between the two of them, dead silent, leaned forward like there was nothing in the world more important than hearing what both of them had to say.

“I know the science and the psychology, sure. I’m not asking about why people use drugs, I’m asking why you do it.”

There was something in the tightness around his eyes. In the rigidity of his posture.

He needed this.

For whatever reason, Hotch needed the answer to this question.

For the thousandth time, he wondered what had happened to this man in the years they'd been parted.

There was a time, after Tobias, where it could have changed everything for him if Hotch had just sat him down and spoken to him like this. If he had really cared to know the answer.

Was that what this was? Some kind of guilt for all the conversations that didn't happen when they should have?

No. There was something else. He didn't know what it was, but it was important.

As he studied Hotch, he thought about that young, terrified version of himself that wanted nothing more than for someone to force him to confront his demons before they grew too big.

Maybe they could both get something they needed, even if it was far too late to make a difference for either of them.

“Okay,” he said. "Let me think."

The others all held various expressions of shock. JJ’s eyes widened. Derek looked him up and down. None of them moved, almost as if they were afraid to spook him. Like one wrong move and he would never speak again.

How could he make this make sense to any of them?

They all approached his substance use like they approached a profile. They had to find the root cause, look for patterns, identify triggers. They didn’t understand that none of that mattered.

Whatever it was that Hotch wanted from him, he decided, he would try to give it to him. They were all probably going to die down here anyway.

He started with a deep breath. “When I was a kid, I never understood why my mom wouldn’t get treatment or why she would always go off her meds,” he said softly. “She was functional when she was on them. It made her life easier, and it made my life easier. I knew they had side effects, but even then, I couldn’t comprehend how she could choose to be unwell even though she knew how much damage it was doing to both of us.”

He paused. Took another breath. He was glad to be numb. He hoped his capacity to feel deeply never came back. The others looked at him with soft, sad eyes.

Not Hotch, though. Hotch was looking at him like his students did when he was giving a lecture on a topic they knew would be on the exam.

He blocked the rest of them out, focusing all his attention on his studious pupil.

“I think I get it now,” he said. “Despite the paranoia and the agoraphobia and all the awful parts, she used to talk about these incredible things that she would see and experience that nobody else could. Like she knew a secret the rest of us weren’t privy to. Sometimes… that’s how I feel with all of you,” he admitted. “When you tell me you don’t understand why I use opiates, it’s like you’re telling me you don’t understand why I eat or drink or breath. And I get it now. I get why she couldn't fight it. It's exhausting, having to fight something that's such an intrinsic part of you."

"But you did fight it," Hotch pointed out. "You were clean for years."

"Sure. But it was never easy. I spent a lot of that time thinking about what I was missing."

Hotch frowned. "And what is that?"

Spencer bit his lip, not sure how to explain it. "The thing about IV opioids is that they feel pretty great," he settled on, and it felt like telling a small child that the thing about the sun is it's pretty hot. "Whatever you're imagining, it's far better than that.”

The response sounded flippant, he knew, but what the hell else was he supposed to say?

Hotch was nodding as he took in the words. His thoughts were inscrutable to Spencer, so all he could do was wait for a reaction.

From what little he knew of Hotch's youth, he wouldn't be shocked if he'd at least dabbled in narcotics before straightening out as a teenager. He sincerely doubted that any of that rebellion had involved needles, though. It was hard to compare. IV narcotics were a world away from the experiences that any of the rest of them had, and it was hard to articulate how different it was.

How could he explain it? Hey guys, have you ever known true peace for the first and only time in your life? I don't believe in god, but I'm pretty sure I experience divinity every time I shoot up?

“Can it really feel good enough to be worth what it costs you in all other parts of your life?” asked Hotch eventually. It was the obvious question, really. “Good enough to be worth the withdrawal symptoms? The risk to your career? The strain on your relationships? Or the hundred other problems that come from being in active addiction?”

“It’s not like that,” he said simply. “You’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“Okay. Then what’s it like?”

“When you're clean, you have a hundred problems. When you're using, you have one problem, with one solution.”

“It’s a pretty big problem,” said Hotch.

“It’s also a pretty spectacular solution.”

Hotch stared at him for a long time this time. There was silence, the kind you could hear your own heartbeat in, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like they were alone in the room.

“Dare,” said Hotch.

Spencer tilted his head, trying to decipher what he could possibly mean.

Hotch broke eye contact. He looked at the rest of the room. “It’s my turn, isn’t it? I pick dare.”

At once, the spell was broken.

Whatever Hotch had been looking for, he'd apparently found it.

Spencer leaned back against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them. Derek put a hand on his shoulder for just a moment, a small gesture of support, but otherwise they let him be.

The others breathed out their stalled breaths and put their heads together to brainstorm a dare for Hotch to do. For about the length of time it took to drink a bottle of Ensure, they kept glancing at him with varying degrees of curiosity and concern, but eventually the atmosphere shifted from forced nonchalance to genuine play.

The game continued on, and they all went back to bickering and snapping at each other as a way to stave off boredom as much as any kind of genuine irritation. When it came to his turn, they silently skipped over it.

Apparently, he’d finally done enough to be left alone for a while.

During one truth for Derek, which left him telling an elaborate story about the time he got kicked out of a nightclub after a friend spiked his drink when he was 20, Emily leaned over and whispered to him.

“You okay?” He didn’t say anything, but he bumped his shoulder against hers in an attempt at reassurance. She looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them, and whispered again, “Thank you. For telling us that.”

He leaned in and whispered back, “Whatever is going on with him, I hope it helped.”

She squeezed his arm. “Me too.”

She turned her attention back to the game.

He tuned out once again.

One big problem: Escape the bunker.

One spectacular solution: Force the Unsub to reveal herself somehow. Put them in a position to make a move.

She didn't want them to die. It was the one thing they could be really certain of. Whatever she wanted, it involved keeping them alive, likely for a long time.

They needed to create urgency. They needed something so dire, that she would be forced to enter the room and intervene before she had time to knock them out with gas.

The tedium, the daily trudge of survival, these things were not his strong suit. People who can function like that don't do heroin. People who can endure hardship with grace and fortitude don't stick needles in their arms.

But finding the simplest solution to the direst problem, no matter the risk to himself?

He was an expert at that.

He could break her. He knew he could. It was just a question of if he could do it without breaking everyone else.

[spritehouse]

cw: talk of religion (catholicism + christianity) in a positive/neutral way, some religious guilt, mentioned homophobia & religion-based homophobia

i mentioned luke alvez probably being religious/raised religious or at least have childhood ties to catholicism/christianity and i have so many thoughts

so luke grew up in the bronx, which has the highest concentration of catholics (38% of the population) of new yorks borough, most of which (i believe 30% of the population) are hispanic catholics. also, if luke is around the same age as his actor, this sets his childhood around the 80s i think idk how years work

also, i know i said catholicism but (based on my understanding) roman catholics believe in being above other forms of christianity(?) (please let me know if this is wrong, i just looked it up and im not trying to make any religion look bad), and i think, above all else, luke's parents raised him on the belief that everyone is equal, so. Yeah.

anyways, there's a good chance he was raised religious or, at the very least, religion was undoubtedly a part of his life in one way or another

(self-projection headcanon segment now)

so i think it would be neat if luke kinda strayed from religion a little in high school/college bc. yk. being a teenager/young adult is just trying to figure out what The Fuck is going on.

sure, he'll pray sometimes, go to church with his mom, thank God for things, but he's also young and at least a little mad at life, especially while bad things keep happening to him until that becomes resentment toward God

and then he joins the army, and he'll still pray when something Big is going to happen or send his thoughts to someone's family, but it's half-hearted—something he was taught that's ingrained in him rather than something he chose—and continues like that when he's in FTF, too busy to really think about it

it doesn't come up until he's in the bau after he hears spencer's in jail in Mexico, and he's in the bathroom and can't breathe, praying to a God he isn't sure exists to make everything okay

and after spencer gets out, scratch, all that, he has six weeks to reflect on where he stands and what he believes, feeling guilty about only returning to God when he's desperate

he talks about it with spencer, too—prison made luke realize he doesn't want to waste any more time—and even though he's not religious, he never makes luke feel bad or wrong about any of it

spencer talks about his experience with religion and the things he can't explain, like dying in the cabin. he doesn't believe in a God/gods, but he doesn't think people who do are wrong or have misplaced beliefs

he's still weary about everything, but he feels better after talking about it so much with spencer, though that poses another problem

luke has never really bothered to label himself, but he knows the correlation between religion and homophobia, and that scares him just as much as everything else

yes, his parents taught him everyone is equal, but what if that doesn't apply to him, their only son? what if they reject him? what if they tell him that the God he spent so long feeling guilty for abandoning doesn't love him anymore?

at some point, it comes up, and his parents meet spencer and absolutely adore him and they have a Deep Talk and there's Tears because im a sucker for healthy communication between parents and children where luke's parents just tell him they love him so much and aaaaaaaaaaaaa

also: luke and derek bonding over Religion Things. i put all of my three braincells into typing this whole thing, bear with me.