#tara lewis angst

[starchaser45]

After the believers kidnapping

Emily: I know this is a difficult time but I need to make a psyche evaluation so you guys can be back on the field , so how are you guys doing

Penelope: I'm so scared I thought we were gonna die and I'm still not over running someone over and I can't stay a long time without contacting Spencer cause I think he's dead*deep breath* I'm just not doing okay

Emily: okay understandable take as much time as you want off its okay, and you Spence

Spencer: auh you know I'm fine like you know been there done that you get me

Tara*who was only in there because Emily knew this was gonna happen*: no Reid we don't get you

Spencer: you know once you've been kidnapped by a religious nut you've been kidnapped but all of them and that's like my third time second and a half I don't know if liberty ranch count *awkward laugh*

Emily*sigh*: I knew this was gonna happen

Tara: Spencer are you okay

Spencer: psychological, physically, mentally what are we talking about because all no BUT I'm ready to work 👉

Emily*looking at Tara*: keeping the sabbatical

Tara: for sure, pen sweetheart whenever you need us you call us or you'll end up like him

Penelope*scared nodding*

[phantompoguefangirl]

GREEN LIGHT-SPENCER REID

'Love compels cruelty To those who do not understand love.'

'I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.'

'In my end is my beginning.'

T.S. Eliot

A/N: Based on the episodes Green Light and Red light and basically that whole section of Season 12. Fluff and ANGST. This is also on my wattpad SerpentBeauty1710 and will be on my AO3, MayaGillespieReid

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Y/N POV:

Nothing could have prepared me for any of this.

Not for the way my soul left my body when the words "Spencer is in jail in Mexico" came out of Emily's horrified mouth.

Not for the anxiety being stuck home waiting for answers when half the team went down to get him.

Not for the relief and yet underlying tornado of emotions when the beautiful, kind and innocent boy wonder, the love of my life, my sweet Spencer...walked into the BAU in handcuffs.

The frustration when my short legs and rapidly expanding belly wouldn't let me get to him faster. The pain when he couldn't hug me back, then the love and desperation I felt him return by nuzzling his face into my neck as best he could while his bound hands caressed my bump. The soft but urgent warmth of his lips as I reached up to kiss him. The brief touch of his forehead to mine and the whispered reassurances right before Emily led him back to the elevator.

The way I broke down sobbing when the judge denied bail.

And the agony of waiting, of knowing he was so close to home and not being able to hold him or keep him safe. And on top of that, the stress of not knowing if he would get out in time, if at all...

The team did their best to support me through it and took turns helping with Diana when they could, along with the caregiver Spencer and I had hired for her. We had decided to move into a house with a mother in law suite for Diana when Spencer brought her to live with us in DC. We'd agreed Diana would do better with her own space and it ended up being a really good thing we moved. The team helped me finish settling in. Garcia was all over decorating, Emily JJ  and Tara helped me organize everything, Derek and our new agent Luke handled any repairs and/or replacements that needed done and Rossi brought his delicious food regularly. Hotch had very recently gone into in witsec with Jack, but I knew he'd be here helping too if he could.

I smiled appreciatively at the thought of our friends as I struggled to roll out of bed and padded to the kitchen for breakfast. I was grabbing a croissant from the container when I felt a small pinch in my neck and everything went dark.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in what seemed to be a trunk. I was going to kick a tail light out or or scream or something but my hands and feet were tied up and there was duct tape over my mouth. It was cold, much more so probably due to the fact that I was only in a tank top and pajama shorts.

I didn't recognize my captors' voices but I tried to listen to the youngish girl and older man when they spoke. They mostly talked in low tones so it was difficult, but I heard them whisper Diana's name and something about the caregiver which caused my heart and stomach to constrict in terror. I wanted to scream at them to tell me where my mother in law was, but I knew it would probably do no good and I still had the tape on my mouth anyway.

What felt like days(but was probably only hours) passed and the only respite I had was when the man moved me to a different trunk and removed the tape before holding the phone to my ear. I recognized the phone number on the screen.

"Spencer?" I whimpered, shifting umcomfortably as the man held on to the ropes around me.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" He cried out desperately.

"Yeah we're okay, I think," I answered softly. "But Spencer, they have Mom. I don't know where, she's not with me but-"

The man shoved the tape back over my mouth and closed the trunk. I thought I heard Diana's scared voice right before he took the phone away, which was odd. I did hear a gunshot right outside a second later though, followed by a loud explosion, before the vehicle I was in roared to life and was suddenly in motion.

I tried to mentally document all of my surroundings, while simultaneously looking around for something to cut my bindings with, in order to keep myself from panicking. However, every so often the tightening feeling would return and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Spencer's soft voice in my mind reassured me and reminded me how amazing our team is, which helped to soothe me a little. That led me to distract myself with thoughts of my wonderful husband. Of every little thing about him that I was so in love with. Things like his ridiculously cute laugh, our shared fascination with books and learning, the way he loved so deeply with his entire heart, his gentle kindness, his relentless determination, etc. One of my favorite things was the expression on his face whenever he concentrated hard on anything or whenever he was deep in thought. The way his brow furrowed while he rested his chin on his folded hand, every so often running his thumb or knuckle across his bottom lip or sometimes against his chin. I'd never seen him do this so intensely until the day he figured out this special puzzle box I'd had made for him.

*FLASHBACK*

It took me a bit to think of a good way to tell him the news. I didn't want to just say the words or show him the test or something simple. I wanted it to be as special as he was to me. It was a conversation we'd had about Sherlock Holmes that finally gave me the idea. I created a little scavenger hunt for him, the last clue of which was a puzzle box for him to solve. He loved puzzles and riddles. The answer to open the box was a phrase that he would have to guess.

He figured out the clues to the hunt much faster than expected, but the puzzle box actually took him quite a while to figure out. He got so determined to crack it that he brought it to work, unbeknownst to me. I was shocked when I walked into the round table room(I'd stopped in the break room for some tea which we were sadly out of) and found him studying it, eyebrows furrowed very deeply, head on hand and thumb brushing against his lip while Garcia and Hotch were briefing us on a case. I tried not to stare at him, because let's be honest it was unbelievably hot when he looked like that, and silently hoped he would not crack the code till later. Of course I had no such luck. He was a genius after all.

"I'm pregnant? What? I'm not-" Spencer suddenly said out loud, causing us all to stop and look at him. He was silenced by the box unlocking as he finished turning the small knobs to the correct letters. He saw what was inside and his eyes grew to the size of bowling balls as he picked it up. His face snapped up to look at me and he jumped out of his seat at the same time. "YOU'RE PREGNANT?!"

Everyone gaped at us. I froze, having not even made it into a chair yet.

"I...um...yeah," I managed to get out after a moment.

Spencer's mouth dropped open and his eyes somehow softened while staying wide. His floppy brown curls made him look even more like a puppy as he reached for me and squeaked out the word "Really?"

My heart melted, every emotion flooding to the surface, as I stepped closer to him.

"Yeah really. We're gonna have a baby, Spence," I said softly, smiling tentatively.

A gasp escaped Spencer's lips as he pulled me into his arms and spun me around while everyone cheered. He set me down and kissed me passionately through happy tears before the team engulfed us in hugs.

"Congratulations, you two," Hotch said, revealing a rare, genuine smile.

"Tanta Felicità!" Rossi exclaimed in Italian as he kissed our cheeks.

"You guys! This is amazing!" JJ said, "You're gonna be great parents!"

Tara echoed this enthusiastically, affectionately wrapping her arms around us for a brief moment before backing up.

"Wow, I was totally kidding when I asked if you wanted little baby geniuses some day. I'm so glad I was right though. This is wonderful news!" Emily quipped, grinning.

"BABY GENIUS THERE IS GOING TO BE A BABY GENIUS OH MY GOD I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD!" Penelope all but screeched as she embraced us tightly, continuing to ramble. "Auntie Penelope is gonna spoil the heck out of this little one just like I do with Henry and Michael! I hope it's a girl but as long as he or she is healthy that's all that really matters."

"Way to go, Pretty Boy. I didn't know you had it in you!" Morgan joked once Garcia was done, clapping Spencer on the shoulder as we all giggled. "But I couldn't be happier for you both."

"Thanks man," Spencer chuckled, as he looked down at the object in his hands and teared up some more.

"What is it?" Morgan asked. Nobody had seemed to notice the object before but now they all zeroed in on it.

"A onesie?" JJ asked.

"It says 'Daddy's little Genius'...Daddy... I'm gonna be a dad...," Spencer murmured, smiling in that adorable way he does when he's emotional.

A chorus of awwwws filled the room followed by them scruffing Spencer's hair or clapping him on the shoulders again. I also received more hugs and a couple kisses on the head from Morgan and Rossi.

Hotch let us celebrate for a second, and celebrated with us, before drawing our attention back to the case at hand. Of course, Penelope told us we were having a real celebration when we got back and would not take no for an answer. And that's exactly what we did.

I hadn't meant for everyone to find out like that, but it ended up being the happiest moment in my life so far.

The memory faded as the tightening intensified. It felt like a weight pressing on me, like I wasn't going to be able to relax until I knew that Diana was safe. If anything happened to her, I wasn't sure what the hell I would do. She'd been doing so much better and she'd been absolutely over the moon upon learning she was going to be a grandmother. She'd nearly screamed out joyfully when we told her the news. She'd insisted that Spencer and I take turns reading to the baby every day and when Spencer was away, she took his place, picking up wherever he left off while I rested. Diana was genuinely wonderful and I was not violent by nature but I would go absolutely feral on anyone who hurt her, even in my current condition.

I tried to keep distracting myself with thoughts of Spencer and eventually began to doze off.

SPENCER POV:

I realized who the girl was as soon as she left the visiting room with my mother. I contacted the team as soon as possible to let them know, unable to keep from panicking.

Convincing them to believe me and the wait for news was excruciating but that was nothing compared to what I felt when Emily visited to update me on everything.

As soon as she walked in the room, I could see that something was very wrong, aside from Lindsey taking my mom. I think subconsciously I already knew what it was when I first saw Lindsey, but I couldn't bear to let myself even consider it.

"We found your caregiver dead in a house just a few houses down from yours. Ballistics came back and turns out Lindsey used her father's gun. We don't know whether it was to prove a point or something else, but the reasons are unimportant." Emily began, urging me to sit. I politely refused and she continued, "The point is that you were right, Reid. You were right and I didn't believe you. I'm so sorry."

"She's a daddy's girl. She can't help but use his gun," I mused out loud, going over the memories of her case in my mind.

"Good. That's good. That helps," Emily said, but there was something about her voice that alerted me.

I sat there across the table, shaking at this point, but I made myself look at her. "There's something else you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Emily looked down, hesitating for a second before answering.

"It's Y/N," she finally said, holding back tears,"Lindsey took her too."

My heart stopped. I heard Emily shout my name but couldn't focus on her at all. I couldn't think. I couldn't even pull oxygen into my lungs.

This was not happening.

This could not be happening.

Not my wife... not our baby...

I felt a hand on my arm. I shoved it off of me.

"You have to find them, Emily. Promise me you'll find my mom and Y/N." I begged, desperately.

"I promise you, Reid. We will find them," Emily assured me. "Right now you just have to find a way to isolate yourself."

I stormed toward the door and had the guard take me back to my cell.

I ended up having to make it look like Shaw stabbed me with a shiv to get put in solitary confinement. I couldn't handle anything else happening and I had to least try and stay safe on the off chance I got to get out and search for my wife and mom. Not that I had any hope that I would get out at this point in time, but I trusted my team with everything and I knew they would not rest till they found my family.

Sometime later, I found myself being brought out of isolation without any warning and I was terrified that Shaw had conjured up his own way to get to me. The guard left me in a room alone and I tried to remain calm, bracing myself for what was to come.

I was not prepared for my best friend to walk through the door.

"We're taking you home," JJ choked out as her eyes watered.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding as I pulled her into a tight hug. After a minute, she led me out the door and took me back to the BAU.

The sense of ease at seeing my work family again, especially the radiant embodiment of sunshine that was Penelope Garcia, was brief. It was soon overshadowed by unbridled rage when we discovered that Cat Adams was the true mastermind behind all of this.

She had Lindsey frame me for murder.

She had me put in prison.

She risked my sobriety by drugging me.

She had Lindsey kidnap my family.

Now, she was demanding to speak to me by using them as leverage.

Of course she wanted to play a game just like we did before when I arrested her, using my watch as the timer. She was angry that I'd outsmarted her so she wanted to break me. I was not about to let her have even a sliver of satisfaction.

She almost succeeded, however, when she revealed she was pregnant with my child.

Almost.

Apparently she'd told Lindsey to pretend to be Y/N after she dosed me with drugs so she could collect a sample from me down in Mexico. I knew it should not be possible, but I had been drugged and my memories of that day were still very hazy so I couldn't be sure.

"That's right, Y/N's not the only one carrying a baby protegé," Cat said in almost a sing song voice as I rushed out of the room. "I was thinking, if it's a boy, Spencie Junior. Or if it's a girl, Y/N. You know, since she played a part in her own conception."

JJ was waiting outside with Cat's file, hesitantly holding it up. I barely heard the words she said as I read it, then threw it against the wall once I saw the confirmation of pregnancy.

"Sorry," I said gently, upon noticing I had scared JJ. I ran my fingers through my hair. "I just...just need a minute."

JJ just nodded in understanding.

Some time later, the team discovered that Cat was lying about the child being mine and we eventually got her to call her cohort for proof of life.

My heart swelled when I heard the love of my life's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah we're okay, I think," she answered softly. Dread filled me at her next words. "But Spencer they have Mom. I don't know where, she's not with me but-

She'd conferenced in the call for my mom too and their voices made me hopeful for a second before both calls were cut off with explosions.

I forced the metal table out of my way before shoving Cat against the wall by her throat.

"I'm gonna kill you," I hissed, enraged once more. "I'm gonna kill you."

I kept repeating that until JJ pried me off of Cat, reminding me over and over that she was pregnant.

I stormed out again with JJ hot on my heels. I didn't have time to break down before the team told us that there was a call in about an amber alert Emily put out for Lindsey. Two vehicles at the scene were blown up but the only victim inside was male.

I felt bad for the man who was killed, but this meant there was hope again.

JJ and I talked some things through and pieced together what Cat really wanted me to say. While I told Cat what she wanted to hear, the team discovered the prison guard who had actually been the one to impregnate Cat and found two properties he owned.

I won the game by telling Cat that I could have done several different things to get out of the situation with Shaw and his men but I chose the one that would cause the most pain. In the process, Lindsey overheard us on Emily's tablet which had been connected to the visiting room cameras, realizing Cat betrayed her and therefore giving up.

As I was heading out, Cat piped up again. "How are you going to be a father now that you've proven you enjoyed hurting those men in prison? I mean, because once you've crossed that line, you can never go back."

In a split second I was on my knees in front of her, yanking my watch off of her wrist.

"Watch me," I retorted before walking out.

The team found my mom first and they let me see her briefly, then they took her to the hospital to make sure she was okay. We went to a secondary location we'd discovered which was where they were holding Y/N. I wasn't technically supposed to go because I was not reinstated yet but I couldn't think clearly enough to obey that rule when my girl and my unborn child were in danger.

Luckily, JJ was a parent and knew me too well so she had my back. Rossi also understood and had a helicopter standing by. We managed to make it there in time for the team to breech the house and I rushed in along side them without thinking.

That's when my whole life changed.

Y/N P.O.V.

My captors brought me to a house and left me in a room on the floor. I was alone for awhile and attempted to move to relieve the tight cramping sensation, which had gotten so much worse. I tried to conceal my pain from the man who was walking around the house setting stuff up and attaching rectangle shaped objects to the walls.

I was horrified when I saw that they were C4 charges. The resulting panic ran concurrent with another very intense tightening sensation, followed by what felt like a toilet flushing inside me and then a few minutes later, warm liquid spilled out between my legs.

All at once, the realization hit. The pains I'd been feeling all day were contractions and the liquid was my water breaking.

I was in labor. I had been kidnapped, was about to be blown up and I was in fucking labor.

I wasn't even due for another few weeks so this shouldn't be happening yet. I mean, I knew from the books Spencer and I read that babies rarely came on their actual due dates, but I was still incredibly frightened.

I wept quietly. Three or four more excruciating contractions ripped through me much more quickly before I was distracted by the doors being busted open.

I almost didn't even notice Tara knocking out the unsub or the others disarming the bombs because all I could focus on was the beautiful face of my sweet Spencer as he rushed over to me.

He hijacked Luke's pocket knife from his belt, swiftly slicing through the ropes before wrapping his arms around me.

"Spence," I sobbed hysterically into his shoulder.

"I'm here, love. It's okay," he murmured into my hair, kissing the side of my head.

"How are you here?" I asked, almost unable to conceive that he was really in front of me.

"I'll explain later. Right now we have to get you out of here," He answered, reaching to help me up.

"Wait, is Mom-" I started to say, but he was way ahead of me.

"Mom is fine, Emily and Luke got her back." he responded, relief in his voice.

"Oh, thank God. I-oh!" I grimaced, grabbing my belly.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked, his face instantly distressed.

"The baby is coming," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Like, right now."

"What?!"He nearly shouted. He located and motioned to the paramedics that had followed him in. "She's in labor. We need to get her to the hospital immediately!"

The EMTs rushed over to us.

"Ma'am how far apart are your contractions?" one of the paramedics asked as he opened his bag, applied a blood pressure cuff to my arm and took my vitals. Another EMT started setting up a stretcher for me.

I gripped my husband's bicep for dear life as I felt another contraction after a little bit. He winced in pain but he supported me through it.

"I don't know, but close enough to know we ain't making it to the hospital," I groaned, leaning against him once it passed.

"Damn it, you're right. That last one was 2 minutes and 48 seconds from the one you had when I got here. How are you in active labor so quickly? The books said the first child usually takes the longest and it could be hours if not days before the baby is born," Spencer rambled anxiously.

"Um, pretty sure I've been having contractions since they took us," I told him,"How long has it been since then?"

He gaped at me,"It's about 1:30am. It's been approximately 17 hours. God, I'm so sorry, Y/N. This is not how this was supposed to happen. It's 3 weeks early and you're under too much stress-"

"It's okay, Spence. We're okay," I reassured him, grabbing my belly as another pain shot through me. "Oohh nope we're not!"

Spencer looked so freaked out which was sort of scaring me.

The EMT seemed to notice and stopped what he was doing,"Hey, it's going to be okay, guys. Her vitals and everything look good and babies are delivered a few weeks premature all the time and are in perfect health. We'll take good care of you all, I promise."

It seemed to work. Spencer relaxed a little bit and switched into doctor mode, holding my hands.

"You're alright, just remember the birthing classes. Breathe with me like this, okay?" He instructed in a gentle voice, demonstrating what the lamaze teacher taught us. I did what he said as best as I could.

The team, who was still standing there awkwardly, left when Spencer and the paramedic started to remove my short bottoms and slid a large pad thing underneath me. JJ said they would meet us at the hospital since they needed to check on Diana anyway. At some point in the process Spencer slipped behind me, sitting with his legs on either side of me and his arms under mine, probably without thinking about it. We sat like this a lot in the classes and also at home because he'd read that sitting like this while carefully lifting my belly provided some much needed relief from it weighing down on me.

"Looks like you're fully dialated. It's time for you to push," the paramedic said, after he checked me. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I need," I grunted, shifting back against Spencer, who as quick to assist,"I need to be up..."

"What?" the medic asked, confused.

"Statistically, it's much more beneficial and effective to give birth in an upright position such as squatting or kneeling on all fours," Spencer prattled off facts as he lifted me so I was sitting up against his chest. He kept his arms underneath mine and entwined our fingers so I could squeeze his hands whenever I needed to."In fact, up until the 1700's, women were even known to give birth standing up. It allows the pelvic bones to open up for the child to pass through more easily and gravity helps the process move faster."

The medic gave him the look everyone gives him when he spouts facts and I supressed a giggle.

"Are you a doctor?" he asked my husband, incredulously.

"I have 3 phD's so technically yes-oh owww,"Spencer's sentence was interrupted by me squeezing the life out of his hands as another one hit.

The medic gave him a 'wow' look and then focused on me again,"Okay, anyway I'm gonna have you push through this contraction. Are you ready?"

I nodded and inhaled deeply, pushing on his cue. He counted down and told me to stop. I exhaled harshly and rested for a second before I was told to do it again. We repeated this a few times, Spencer lovingly encouraging me through it. The medic also reassured me that I was doing great, even though I was exhausted and didn't feel like I was doing well.

Sooner than expected, a tiny wail filled the room, changing everything and stirring an indescribable feeling inside me.

"It's a girl!" The paramedic announced, cleaning her, wrapping her in the blue towel things they use and placing her in my arms.

"Oh my gosh" I gasped as I stroked her small head, in hysterical tears at this point. "Hello my little love...oh Spence, look at her..."

Spencer, gaping at her in awe, managed to speak, "H-hi princess, I'm your dad...wow you're so beautiful...you look just like your mommy."

He wasn't wrong. She had his round, hazel eyes, but most of her facial features and her hair color were the same as mine. I smiled warmly down at her through my tears.

I was going to throw back a smart remark but it was forgotten as more tightening and the need to push again overtook me. "Something else is coming out what the-?"

"It's probably the placenta needing to be delivered," Spencer said, without taking his eyes off of our daughter.

"I don't think so," The medic said, reaching his hands out as I instinctively pushed some more.

Just when I thought I could not exert myself anymore, whatever it was came out and the medic grinned, holding it up. "Does that look like a placenta to you, Doctor?"

Our eyes just about popped out of our heads at the sight of the tiny wriggling form.

Another baby??!!

"I-No but- that's impossible," Spencer stuttered, in shock. I mirrored his expression completely.

"You didn't know?" The medic looked confused as he grabbed another towel thing.

"No, the ultrasounds only showed one baby," I said, in disbelief.

"This is a surprise then!" the medic chuckled. "Well congratulations Mom and Dad, it's a boy!"

He placed the baby in my other arm and reminded Spencer, who was still completely astounded, to cut the umbilical cords.

"We have twins?" Spencer whispered increduously, staring at the two small bundles wiggling against my chest.

"We have twins," I repeated, gazing back and forth between my babies and my husband, dumbfounded, "I can't believe it."

The second baby looked exactly like his father. The same brown curls, the same nose, lips, eyes, everything. He was perfect. Both our children were. I'd never felt so much love and joy in my life and I could tell Spencer hadn't either.

"Hi, sweet boy, we were not expecting you, but we are so happy that you're here," I cooed at my son.

"Yes we are. We love you so much, little buddy," Spencer agreed, resting his head on my shoulder as he brushed the boy's cheek lightly with his thumb.

I turned my head to face him and he pressed his lips to mine, murmuring. "I love you and I'm so proud of you."

"I love you too," I murmured back, feeling the warm wetness on my cheeks return as I pressed my forehead to his.

"Congratulations, again. They're adorable," The medic said, warmly as he cleaned everything up.

"Thank you," We answered simultaneously, smiling widely.

When the EMT was done, Spencer moved out from behind me and took the babies so the medics could lift me onto the stretcher. They put a warm blanket over me and then Spencer handed me one of the babies, still wanting to hold one.

Once we got to the hospital, Spencer went with the nurses who took the babies to get checked out. I was taken by other nurses who set me up in a room and made sure I was okay. While he was gone I asked one of my nurses to bring Diana and our friends up to my room.

Diana was a little confused for a minute when she saw me, but luckily her son walked in with a rolling bassinet at just the right moment, parking it next to my bed.

"Spencer's here," I told her softly.

She looked up at him and after a second she rushed into his arms and he embraced her happily, crying.

"Hi, Mom," he murmured.

She pulled back and took his face into her hands. "Don't you ever leave me again."

"I won't," He told her, pulling her back in for a hug. "I love you."

She said it back and after a bit, he was the one to pull back.

"Mom, I have a surprise for you. For all of you, actually," He said, looking at our friends. He smiled as he handed me one baby and then picked up the other and turned to face the group.

Everyone gasped or looked at us wide eyed.

There was a chorus of attempted quiet reactions from the team while Diana moed closer to us, some recognition beginning to spark in her eyes. I could see Garcia using every ounce of her strength not to freak out and accidentally scare her.

"Am I a grandma?" She asked, tentativel.

"Yeah, you are," Spencer answered, warmly.

Diana looked back and forth between us, confused. "But I thought there was only one?"

Spencer chuckled, gesturing to the blue bundle in his arms. "Yeah, we thought so too, until this little guy showed up unannounced."

"He's shocking people just like his father already," She grinned, earning a light laugh from all of us. "Well, do they have names yet?"

"Well, we have a girl name since we knew we were having a daughter, but we are still trying to figure out a boy name since he was a surprise," I answered.

"What's the girl's name?" she asked, sitting on the bed next to me. Spencer sat on my other side.

"Say hello to Amelia Diana Reid," We told her happily as I shifted the pink blanket away from our daughter's face so she could see better.

She gasped again and looked back and forth between Spencer and I in shock once more before smiling and gently hugging us. Awwww's filled the room at the scene.

"The middle name obviously needs no explanation, but the meaning behind the first name is something we want to share. Neither of us had good fathers and I don't have a good mother. So Amelia is the closest thing we could think of as a kind of combination of Aaron and Emily, our work mom and dad,"I explained, smiling adoringly at Emily.

She came over and embraced us carefully. "Thank you. I wish Hotch were here. I think you two are the only ones beside Jack that can get him to smile, and this would definitely turn that stoic frown upside down."

We giggled and so did several of our team members.

I helped Diana hold Amelia for a little bit, and then our son in turn until she started to be less lucid and wanted to rest. Emily had arranged for her to sleep and be cared for in a room close by ours so she could be near us. JJ took her to that room with a nurse and the others left our room for a little while so I could feed the twins. We were burping and changing them when everyone came back.

As soon as she was able to, Penelope pretty much exploded, accidentally interrupting Spencer as he was trying to tell me something. "Oh my gosh TWINS? Two baby geniuses for the price of one! This is the best news ever and I am going to buy tons of stuff for baby boy since you're gonna need double the baby supplies and you only have girl stuff right now and I am going to love them and hug them and be there for them and teach them lots of cool things and-"

"Garcia, breathe," Rossi said, patting her on the back as we all giggled. He turned to us, "Congratulations, both of you."

"Oh they're so precious, guys!"JJ cooed, coming over for a closer look. She was very careful as she hugged us,"You know, anything you need, I'm here for you. Okay?"

"Yeah same, we got you," Luke agreed.

"Well done, Dr. and Mrs, Reid," Tara said in admiration.

"Thanks everyone," we responded happily.

"You did good, mama. The babies are beautiful," Morgan said, leaning down and kissing me on the head as he touched Amelia's hand with his pinky finger. He smiled over at Spencer, "You too, kid. Gideon would be proud of you, you know."

The look on Spencer's face brought me to tears. I'd only been on the team a short time before Gideon left, but I did get to briefly experience the kind, caring, brilliant man he was, who loved Spencer like his own son and knew him better than he knew himself. He even knew the second Spencer and I met that we were falling for each other because he would pair us up a lot and whenever we were together or he caught us looking at one another, he got a look on his face like he was seeing something we were not. He later told Spencer this in his letter and told him to hold on to me and to not let the job get in the way of us. He said to find solace in each other and remind each other of the good things in the world when we were bogged down by all the bad things we saw at work.

This was what finally gave Spencer the courage to ask me out and thank God for that because I was going out of my mind over him by that point and I was so close to just giving up entirely.

Suffice it to say, that man meant the whole world to Spencer and by extention, to me as well. His loss had been beyond devastating for us and I had since been looking for a way to honor his memory....

I looked at my husband, "Hey love, what were you saying before Garcia's outburst?"

"Hmm?" He mumbled, having been pulled out of whatever thought process he was in, "Oh, I was saying I have an idea for our son's name..."

"Oh? What is it?" I asked, curiously.

"I noticed that the medic who delivered the twins had a nametag that said Elliot and I really liked it because it makes me think of the author T.S. Eliot, but also because it reminds me of my friend Elle who used to work with us and who I miss very much. So I was thinking we could name him Elliot, if you're okay with it, of course," He whispered, rambling a bit excitedly.

I knew who Elle was. He and some of the others had talked about her a lot and she seemed like a good person who had just been through a lot. She was like an older sister to Spencer and the name was really cute and meaningful so I was sold.

"I love it...and I have a suggestion for his middle name," I told him, eagerly.

"What?" he asked.

"Gideon," I whispered back, tentatively.

He stared at me for a second with his huge puppy eyes, looking like he was about to cry. He nodded fervently, his eyes moving to his tiny carbon copy sleeping in his arms. He'd barely taken his eyes off the twins since they'd been born and watching him become so  enamored by them made me fall even more in love with him.

"Hey guys, we came up with a name for our son," He said out loud, grabbing everyone's attention as he lifted one of the baby's hands, waving it. "I'd like you all to meet Elliot Gideon Reid."

Tara and Luke only partially connected the dots, since they only knew stories of Gideon and Morgan had just mentioned him.

The rest of the team, however, got both names immediately and there was not a dry eye amongst them. More hugs happened and then everyone took their turns holding the twins and talking with us for awhile until they saw us having trouble staying awake. They handed the babies back and quietly made their way out, one by one.

We put the twins in their bassinet and Spencer curled up next to me while we stared at them.

"Welcome to the world, Amelia and Elliot," we whispered. "We love you."

***********************************

EPILOGUE(Spencer POV):

I was reinstated to the FBI, after some substantial time off to be with my wife and new babies, with mandatory sabbaticals every so often. I did my best to balance work and home, actually electing to stay behind with Garcia sometimes so I could be close to home. A few years later, we had another set of twins, this time both showing up on the sonograms. They were a boy and girl again, and we named them Lilliana Jennifer Reid and Theodore Morgan Reid(Lilly and Theo for short).

Then, another year and a half later, we got pregnant with our last child, a complete surprise since we were told we could not have any more. We named her Davina Penelope Reid, Davina being the closest female name to David(for Rossi).

After that, we were done and our family was complete. Of course, the team adored them and spoiled them rotten. We also realized not long after Amelia and Elliot were born that my mom would be much better cared for in a facility, which was very difficult for me to come to terms with. Fortunately, we found an amazing facility nearby. She's actually thriving there and she loves her grandbabies so much. We bring them to visit her or bring her home sometimes. She often reads to them or teaches them about literature and history the way she taught me.

Life is good. And I am thankful for every day with my gorgeous wife, my five wonderful children, my awesome friends and of course, my mother.

***********************************************

[chosenimagines]

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Criminal Minds

Crossover

Criminal Minds X Swat

One Shots

Dr. Spencer Reid

Books, books and more books

Home

Assassins and sickness

No hero

Gifts

Despair (OC Lola)

Seizure (OC Lola)

Our strength lays within words (Big bro AU with OC Josie)

Trash talk (OC Lola)

Requests

By @insomnaticwilmon

Beach day, Baby!

By @snoopitude

Jokes (Spencer Reid)

By @ameliajonezzz

The Morcia-Dynamic 2.0 (David Rossi)

By @reidsbookclub

Enemies’ Date (Spencer Reid)

By @cance1medaddy

Baby me?! (Spencer Reid) Smut 18+

By 🍵✨- anon

 Spencer Reid 16+

By @doctorspenceryeet

Disappointment (Spencer Reid)

Not alone (Spencer Reid)

By @imjustheretoreads-blog

To the rescue (Spencer Reid)

By @hyialover

Happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? (Spencer Reid)

Random posts

Love for Derek

FTOTD TBBT & Criminal Minds/Castle

Warming up to Rossi

Headcanons

Jeid Headcanon/Jeid AU

Reblogs

Incorrect Quotes Garcia while BAU chases unsub

[reyswiftwalker]

[0o-junebug-o0]

It's A Beautiful Thing

summary: Emily struggles to come to terms with her sexuality and goes to Tara for help after a disastrous hookup

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: internalized homophobia, comp het (compulsory heterosexuality), implied/referenced sexual assault (NOTHING HAPPENS it's just assumed that it did), religious trauma, religious guilt, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, using sex as a coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships to sex, Jemily mentions, coming out, unrequited love (or at least it's believed to be)

wordcount: 1.9k

Emily sits on the corner of the bed and sighs as she pulls her pants back on. Her whole body feels wrong and she wants to leave. She looks over at the door to the ensuite bathroom and listens to the sound of the shower running. She shouldn’t leave while he’s still in the shower. That would be cruel. It’s not like he was bad or did anything she didn’t want, it just didn’t feel right. 

She picks her bra off the floor and looks around for the first time as she clasps it behind her back. The whole room is painfully male. She hates it. And she hates that she hates it. 

Emily closes her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair to detangle it as best as possible. Her chest feels tight and she leans forward, burying her face in her hands and tucking her head between her knees. The sound of the shower feels like it’s drilling into her skull and the smell of sex that surrounds her makes her feel sick.

She presses her hand over her mouth and chokes on a small sob. She needs to leave, she needs to get out of here. She lifts her head and takes a deep breath before picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head. She then grabs her purse from where she’d discarded it in the corner of the room and pulls out her phone. 

An idea strikes her and she slips her phone into her pocket before knocking on the bathroom door. “Jackson?” Emily calls out, keeping her voice steady with practiced ease despite feeling like she’s about to implode.

The water shuts off. “Yeah?” he calls back.

Emily squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I just got a call from work.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should go,” Jackson says sounding surprisingly okay at the thought of her leaving. “Go kick some ass.”

Emily opens her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I will. I’ll call you,” she lies.

“Yeah! Yeah! Just lock the door on the way out, you can do it from the inside.” There’s silence for a moment before the shower turns back on. Almost immediately, Emily rushes out of the room and out of Jackson’s apartment, making sure to lock the door.

She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, unable to stand the thought of standing still for a moment longer than necessary. After five floors she makes it to the basement level parking lot and she thanks her past self for not drinking because her car is here and that means she can leave now. 

Emily unlocks her car and throws her purse into the passenger seat not caring that it immediately slides to the floor. She climbs inside and closes the door behind her before slamming the heels of her palms against the steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” she cries, curling her hands into her hair. She feels like she’s about to explode. Everything is so wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Sex with Jackson was supposed to fix it but that just made it worse and now she feels gross and dirty through no fault of his. A strangled scream tears its way up her throat. Why does she have to be like this? Why can’t she just be normal? Why can’t she just have sex with men and enjoy it?

Tears pool in her eyes and Emily angrily swipes them away. She needs to leave, to get far away from this stupid apartment complex. She starts the car and it takes nearly all of her self-control not to tear out of the parking lot. She’s already distracted, adding speeding on top of that would be a recipe for disaster. She needs to talk to someone. She wants to talk to JJ but she won’t understand and Will and the boys will be there and she just can’t. 

Emily parks along the edge of the road and pulls out her phone, opening her texts with Tara. She stares at the screen for a moment before typing, “Can I come over?” and hitting send. Emily closes her eyes and tries to calm herself while she waits for Tara’s reply. Her hands squeeze a white-knuckled grip on her steering wheel and each breath rattles in her chest. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down.

“Come on over.”

Emily shuts her phone off and drops it into the cup holder between the seats. She wipes away the tears that had managed to fall and, checking to see if the road is clear, does a U-turn and drives toward Tara’s house. 

The turmoil Emily is experiencing makes the drive feel simultaneously seconds and hours long. She turns onto Tara’s street and parks along the curb in front of her house. She leaves her purse in the car, only grabbing her phone and keys, before climbing out and walking up the steps to Tara’s front door, locking her car behind her.

The closer she gets to the door the more panicked and ashamed she feels and by the time she knocks, she’s barely holding it together. The door swings open and Tara takes in her appearance with wide eyes and clear concern. Emily opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a choked sob. Tara pulls her into a hug and Emily nearly collapses in her arms. 

They stand there for a while, Emily sobbing into Tara’s shoulder, as they stand on the threshold of her house. Eventually, Emily’s crying subsides and Tara leads her inside with a hand around her waist, closing the door behind them. Tara guides Emily into the living room and onto the couch, keeping her arm around her. 

Emily leans forward to rest her head in her hands and Tara pulls her hand away to brush Emily’s hair to the side and tug on the collar of her shirt. “Emily,” Tara says softly. “Did someone—”

Emily shakes her head, recognizing the voice Tara uses when speaking to victims and realizing that there must be a hickey on her neck. That combined with the state she’s in: it’s only natural Tara assumed something had happened. “No. It was–it was consensual. It just–“ Her voice breaks.

Tara doesn’t speak, waiting silently for Emily to continue. 

“It just felt wrong,” Emily whispers. She keeps her head bowed, too ashamed to look up at her friend. “How did you do it?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” Tara says kindly. 

Emily uncovers her face and sits back against the couch, chewing on one of her nails. The tightness in her chest is still there and she doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to ask the question she so desperately needs to ask without sounding offensive.

“You can speak your mind, Emily,” Tara says. 

Emily chuckles. Thank God for profilers.

She pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “How did you let yourself be with a woman?” she whispers. 

Tara is silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

Emily sighs. “I think I’m gay.” She opens her eyes and looks over to Tara to gauge her reaction. She knows she’ll be fine with it, she has a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. But this is the first time Emily’s ever said those words out loud and she’s terrified. 

Tara nods and smiles softly at her but doesn’t speak and Emily knows she can tell that she hasn’t finished saying everything she needs to.

“I’ve tried so hard not to be,” Emily admits. “I’ve had boyfriends, I’ve had sex with men.” She lets out a pained laugh. “I’ve even gotten knocked up. Did you know that, Tara? When I was fifteen and living in Italy, I dated a boy I didn’t like because I wanted to fit in and stop thinking about a girl. And we had sex that I wanted but didn’t like and he got me pregnant. My friend helped me get an abortion. All that because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I liked a girl. And–and I’m doing the same thing now! I went to a bar and went home with this guy to have sex that I wanted but didn’t like, all because I want to stop thinking about a girl. Like maybe if I let enough men fuck me I’ll stop liking women. I–I know that’s not how that works and I know being gay isn’t something that needs to be fixed but I feel like I need to be.”

“Emily,” Tara says gently. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Emily sighs. “I know that, Tara.”

“I know you know that, but I think you need to hear it. There is nothing wrong with you for liking women. I know it’s hard and it will take time but you are going to have to accept the fact that you’re gay. You can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s not healthy. And it’s not fair to yourself or to the men you’ve having sex with.”

Emily nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I know it’s not. It’s just my whole life I’ve been thinking that maybe this guy, maybe this time it won’t feel wrong. Maybe this time I won’t feel gross and–and—“

She shakes her head, unsure of how to finish. 

“I know there won’t ever be a ‘this guy’ or a ‘this time’. It won’t ever feel right with a man. But that scares me, Tara. I don’t know why it scares me but it does.”

“Because it’s a scary thing. Realizing and accepting a part of yourself you tried to push away is scary and it’s hard. Especially if you’ve spent a good portion of your life hearing that that part of you was wrong like I suspect you have.”

Emily nods. “Catholic guilt,” she whispers.

“Catholic guilt,” Tara echos. “I don’t know if you still believe in God, Emily, but in case you need to hear it: you wouldn’t be gay if it wasn’t God’s intention. He made you exactly the way you’re supposed to be.”

A violent sob forces itself from Emily’s chest and she can feel her whole body shaking with the force of her crying as Tara pulls her against her chest. Emily doesn’t know if she believes in a God anymore either but knowing He doesn’t hate her fills her with relief.

Emily doesn’t know how long she and Tara stay like that, holding each other close as Tara runs her hands through her hair. But eventually, Emily’s sobs subside into sniffles. 

“It’s JJ, isn’t it?” Tara asks softly.

Emily stiffens and sits up. Tara’s hand falls into her lap. 

“What?”

“The woman you’re trying not to think about. It’s JJ, isn’t it?”

Emily opens and closes her mouth before slowly nodding. 

Tara looks across the room to a photo of her and her girlfriend. “It’s a beautiful thing, loving a woman. Don’t you think?” 

Tara looks back over to Emily, who is still looking at the photo. 

Eventually, Emily nods.

__________________

Tag List:

@lover-of-books-and-tea

Fill out this form if you want to be tagged in future fics!

[spencerreidswhore187]

Checkmate (Part Two)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

TW: Death, seizures, hemlock poisoning, hospitals and a brief mention of suicide.

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate (Part one), it means the world to me. Sorry it’s taken a couple of days to upload - I’ve been working so many shifts ugh - anyway, I wrote this on the bus and did not proof read, I hope you enjoy.

You’d always mocked Romeo for being so rash but, as you stood hyperventilating over Spencer’s body, your first instinct was to drink the rest of the poison from the tiny vial in your pocket.

You were in shock. You needed to snap out of it. He’d not ingested enough to kill him instantly; you had a only few minutes to save him.

You collapsed onto your knees and checked Spencer’s pulse - it was weak. But still there. He’s alive, you reminded yourself. Alive. Alive. Alive.

If you were thinking rationally, you’d have left the building. Maybe tip somebody off so that they could find Spencer. If you were thinking rationally, you’d have recalled that Ben would kill you if you saved Spencer’s life. But none of that mattered, not when the only person you cared about was seizing in front of you.

You forced yourself off your feet and attempted to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. What have I done, you chided yourself.

Running to the bedside table, you grabbed the landline telephone and dialled ‘911’.

The automated voice startled you, “Ambulance, fire or police?”

“Ambulance,” you whispered into the receiver.

Your malicious, manipulative, mastermind facade had dropped. You were hardly recognisable as the person you were moments ago. You didn’t know what you’d do if Spencer, your spence, was not okay.

“Hello?” A deep male voice echoed through the receiver.

“I-Help me. Help please,” you begged frantically.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Um…Y/N Reid.” You couldn’t breathe. You’d placed a pillow under Spencer’s head and you’d pulled him towards your lap. His body wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Okay, Y/N. Listen to my voice and take a deep breathe…that’s it. I need you to calm down and tell me what’s happening,” the first responder asked.

“My…my boyfriend he’s been poisoned. And he’s seizing. Oh my god, please help, he won’t…he won’t stop seizing,” you choked back a sob.

“Can you tell me where you are? Help is on the way.”

“[your address]. I-hurry. Please hurry. He’s an agent. An FBI agent.” It hurt to remind yourself of his job, that he’d lied to you. But that didn’t matter, not now.

You heard a phone dialling in the background.

“Y/N, can you tell me your boyfriend’s name.”

“Spencer Reid. D-Dr Spencer Reid from the Behaviour Analysis Unit in um Quantico.”

“An ambulance is almost with you. Y/N, he’s going to be okay. Is he still seizing?”

You whispered, “no.”

“Can you check his pulse for me?”

You did what he asked, it was painfully slow.

“Do you know what substance he ingested?”

“It was-”

There was a sharp knock at the door followed by heavy footsteps running up the stairs.

You hung up the phone as the paramedics rushed to Spencer’s collapsed form.

Everything was a blur. You were barely aware of what was happening.

You watched their lips move as they shouted questions at you that you barely heard. You watched them start chest compressions on Spencer. You frantically chewed at your nails as they placed him on a stretcher and carried him out of your house.

You remembered when you’d bought it. Spencer had held your hand as you explored the empty rooms. He’d hugged you from behind, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to his favourite spot - where your neck me your shoulder. As both of you examined the rooms he rambled random facts about windows and the wall fixings. You loved it when he rambled. You would stare in awe as he counted off numerous statistics.

You’d eaten Chinese take out on the living room floor after you’d bought it. The furniture hadn’t arrived yet. You stayed up all night talking, kissing among other things. You were both so happy then. You’d thought you had escaped Ben, escaped that lifestyle after years of doing whatever he told you.

That blissful dream ended thirteen months ago.

You followed the two paramedics to the ambulance, about to follow them in when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder that instantly snapped you back to reality.

You turned to face the tall blonde woman behind you. You recognised her from a picture on Spencer’s phone. JJ, you thought her name was. Her children were Spencer’s godsons. Or maybe he’d lied about that too.

Luke Alvez, who Spencer had briefly introduced you to in a coffee shop several weeks ago, placed handcuffs around your wrists as JJ read your rights, “Y/N L/N you are under arrest for the twenty four counts of first degree murder as well as the attempted murder of FBI agent Dr Spencer Reid.”

As the world collapsed around you, you watched the ambulance drive away - sirens flashing through the melancholy city.

——————————————————————————

It was Penelope who’d gotten the call. She’d dropped her pink octopus mug when she was told that “Dr Spencer Reid had been poisoned and was on his way to the hospital.”

The rest of the team had been waiting anxiously at the round table. Spencer had insisted on going after you alone, Emily and JJ had protested but Rossi and Tara had agreed with Reid. You were dangerous. Deadly, even. They needed the element of surprise and that was something they’d only achieve if he followed his usual routine and went home to you alone.

It broke Penelope’s heart to see him like that. Spencer had looked exhausted and so broken. She wanted to give him a hug but she observes the way he flinched away anytime someone tried to touch him or offer comfort.

Penelope ran out of her office to the others.

It was Rossi who spoke first, “Garcia what’s wrong?” He asked, observing her dishevelled state as Penelope stood shaking in the doorway, “what happened?”

JJ spoke next, “is Reid okay?”

“I-no. No he’s not.” The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“Penelope…” said Emily.

“A 911 call just came through from his house. He’s been poisoned, an ambulance is on it’s way. Reid…Spencer,” She inhaled sharply, “is unconscious.”

“Then who made the-”

Luke finally spoke up, “Y/N. It was Y/N.”

“But why would they call for help after trying to kill him?” Asked Tara.

No one spoke for what felt like minutes.

Emily finally answered, “it’s doesn’t matter. We need to get to that house now. Lewis, Rossi, you’re with me. JJ, you go with Alvez.”

“What about me?” Penelope questioned weakly, “I can’t…I can’t just stay here and do nothing, waiting for a call.”

“Go to the hospital, we’ll meet you there as soon as possible.”

Penelope nodded, relieved.

As they left the room, Luke hugged Penelope, “he’ll be okay, Garcia. I promise. They wont get away with this.”

——————————————————————————

When he awoke, the first thing he smelt was jello. He loved jello.

“Can I have some of that…please,” Spencer implored.

It was quickly followed by a squeal as Penelope through her arms around him.

“Spencer, you’re okay! Thank god you’re okay. I was so scared. We all were.”

Slowly he began to notice the beeping machines around them and the dull throbbing in the back of his head. He winced.

“Do you want me to get the doctor? I should tell her that you’re awake and-”

Spencer interrupted her rambling, “what happened?”

“You were given a near lethal dose of hemlock.”

Shit. He cursed to himself, remembering something he had read.

“Conium maculatum, colloquially known as hemlock, poison hemlock or wild hemlock, is a highly poisonous biennial herbaceous flowering plant…how did I…”

“Y/N,” Garcia whispered, staring at the hospital room floor.

The memories all came flooding back to him then. The truth of who you really were, the things - the illegal things - you had done. He Spencer recalled all the lies. It hurt more than his body did.

He fought tears. He would not cry over you, Spencer refused.

“Did you find them?”

He was surprised to hear answer “yes.”

“What? But if poisoning me was their escape plan, how did you find them so quickly? How long have I been unconscious?”

None of this made sense.

“Y/N, well, they made the call Spencer. They stayed with you the whole time. JJ and Luke arrested them when they were following you into the ambulance. They’ve been in an interrogation room for three days, Rossi and Tara are with them…you’ve been unconscious for three day.”

Spencer was going to be sick.

Emily, JJ and Alvez rushed into the room.

“You’re alive,” they gushed, “you’re okay!”

Spencer wasn’t listening. He didn’t care.

He stared at Emily who almost immediately understood what he was about to ask.

“No, Reid. Absolutely not.”

“I need to see them. I need you to take me to Y/N.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Part three will be uploaded in the coming days ◡̈

————————————————————————————————————————

If you would like to be added to the tag list comment or message me.

Taglist: @sackofpissandshit @ara-a-bird @princess-ofthe-pages @catsinaspacesuit

[byersbootyshorts]

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Requests for this fandom are currently closed

Any of my works marked * contain explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Spencer Reid:

Series Masterlists:

Revenge is Sweet * (complete) Spencer is tired of the endless trauma he’s had to endure because of his job. When he enlists the help of his wife to get some pay back on the FBI, they discover just how sweet revenge really is.

One shots:

Thin Walls * The team is exhausted. But with the inn they're staying at forcing them to pair up for the night, you and Spencer aren't so tired anymore.

Losing Feelings * (part one) After Lila kissed him in the pool, Spencer needs help getting over his feelings for her. You help him by giving him everything she never could. Catching Feelings (part two) Following your night with Spencer you go to work the next day determined that the rest of the team won't find out. And you fail miserably.

Just a Phone Call Away Spencer's knee injury means he's stuck at Quantico while the rest of the team go off to hunt an unsub. And he does not cope well with being away from you for long.

Sweet Sorrow Emily’s death effected the whole team, but it hit Spencer the hardest. And when he’s at his lowest, it’s you he comes running to.

Blood and Tears When Spencer takes a bullet for you, you struggle to come to terms with what’s just happened.

Not So Smart Now * Spencer’s intelligence and cocky attitude has always infuriated you. So, when given the chance, you revel in putting him in his place.

Blurbs:

Having a desk opposite Spencer

The accidental dumbification of Spencer Reid *

Teaching Spencer how to use chopsticks

Spencer’s embarrassing Christmas costume

Playing Twister with Spencer

Spencer’s new year’s kiss

Your’s and Spencer’s after case routine

Spencer’s reaction to your low cut shirt

Asking Spencer to spend more time with you

Alvez misreading your interaction with Spencer

Playing with Spencer's hair

Asking Spencer to be your Valentine

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

i am surprisingly flying through my to-do list of works so here i am again asking you guys to pick the agenda of drafted fics!!

i'm really laying out all of my cards here, so please don't get overwhelmed by all the options, they'll get posted sometime soon! the percentage by votes is how i label them from least to most demanded!!

if there are ones that aren't collecting a lot of votes, they'll just make it to the next round of polls!

have fun and happy voting!!

[scorpsik]

FIC; Spectre

After Bailey's death, Emily finds other ghosts haunting her nightmares.

Read here on Ao3: SPECTRE

[spritehouse]

Criminal Minds Grief Fic Challenge!

This is my first challenge, so let me know if I need to clarify anything, but here we go!

This challenge is centered around one or multiple characters grieving a loved one. Characters can include canon characters, OCs, Reader/Self-inserts, etc. as long as it exists in the Criminal Minds universe.

Rules/guidelines after the cut!

Rules/Guidelines:

Fics can include any characters, including canon characters, reader/self-insert, OCs, etc as long as it exists in the Criminal Minds universe. They can include any ships (romantic, platonic, familial) or none

Stories can be any genre or trope and can include as much or as little angst/fluff as you want. Please remember to include all necessary Trigger/Content Warnings.

Tag me in your fics on here, or add them to ShortMC's Criminal Minds Grief Challenge on ao3 (barring any complications with the setup)

Work can be pre-existing or new as long as it fits the guidelines

I don't have a set deadline/end for this yet; I just want to see what people write! (If/When I make a challenge masterlist, I'll try to keep it updated)

No prompts, I can barely come up with my own ideas, go crazy!

[spencermyangel]

Tara finding out about Spencer's dad sexually abusing him. Maybe she's the first person he ever admitted it too.

CW - CSA

“Michael Woodworth,” Emily said as she placed a photo of a blond man on the board. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes “This is our unsub. He’s the son of our victim. He moved to South Carolina when he turned 18, changed his name, and has made countless accusations of sexual abuse against his father, but was never taken seriously.” 

“Why would he come back to kill him though?” JJ questioned.

Emily sighed, “his father’s been trying to get back in his life. And in Michael’s son’s life.” 

Realization fell over everyone in the room.

“Well, let’s go pick him up,” Rossi said.

Tara got up with everyone else and was about to follow them out of the room when she noticed that Spencer hadn’t moved from his seat. He was staring blankly at the photo of Michael. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she gently asked, trying not to startle him. 

Ever since prison she had been sure to check up on Reid and, given her expertise, she was often the one who would help Spencer when he shut down, or was panicking. 

Spencer blinked before looking up at her, “yeah. Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, his voice unconvincing. He sounded shooken up. 

Tara sat next to him, as he avoided looking at her. 

“You know you can tell me if you’re not feeling well, if you’re having a hard time.” 

Tara wasn’t sure what would have triggered it, but she had gotten good at picking up on when Spencer was spiralling as they had gotten pretty close, with her helping him. 

Spencer shook his head, “I can’t tell you. Not this.” 

“What is it?” Tara watched him with worried eyes, “you can tell me anything, Spencer. I wouldn't ever judge you.” 

Spencer let out a humourless laugh and shook his head, “I don’t blame him. I understand why he did it.” 

Tara nodded, “I’m sure we all do.”

“No,” Spencer shook his head and finally looked at her, “not like me. I… I used to think, if I stopped him then he could never hurt anyone ever again. But I couldn’t do it.”

“What? Who?” Tara whispered, starting to put some pieces together. Someone had hurt Spencer? Like that? Had he been living with this on his own, forever?

Spencer dropped his head down and stared at the table as tears filled his eyes, “my father, ever since I was four years old, right up until he left,” he whispered, shame in his voice. 

“Spencer,” Tara reached her hand out and placed it on his, gently rubbing it, “I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” 

Spencer shrugged, “I still wonder if he ever hurt anyone else, if he is hurting anyone else. So, yeah, I understand why Michael did what he did,” Spencer lifted his head up and met Tara’s eyes, “don’t worry, I’m not going to go after him.”

“I know,” Tara assured him. 

Spencer nodded, “But I would be lying if I hadn’t thought about how it would be easier if he were dead, then I could be sure he wasn’t hurting anyone.” 

“I understand, Spencer.” 

“Thank you,” Spencer let out a deep sigh, “You know, you're the first person I’ve ever told about this. I’ve never even admitted aloud.” 

Tara’s heart broke at the thought of Spencer, sweet Spencer, living with this since he was four years old. Never telling anyone, never having anyone to help him. 

“If you ever need to talk, Spencer, I’m here,” Tara told him. 

“I know,” he whispered, “Thank you.” he looked at Tara with sincere and grateful eyes.

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I Do, Do You? chapter 7: Helping

WC: 6,875 Ao3

Another week passes with Luke going in to work, but also coming home in the evenings, no active away cases. They take Roxy on morning walks through the park and around the neighborhood at night. He holds her hand and he holds her waist, he holds her when they sleep, and when he forgets himself, he kisses her fingers and her cheeks…but he always stops short of kissing her, much too much loaded behind it now.

As much as she tries not to think about it, not let it bother her, she can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t...and if he will before their time is up. She’s been quite patient and they’ve had much less time than other couples on the show, but even by regular relationship standards she would have jumped some bones by now.

Still, she believes him when he’d said he finds her attractive, that he has “lots of feelings” for her… she holds on to that, holds on to the bits of himself he gives.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, Penelope’s getting dressed and ready in the bedroom for a late park walk when she hears Luke talking on the phone in the living room.

“What about Alvez’ new wife?”

He had mentioned off-hand to Tara and Matt that Penelope was highly skilled with computers, he’d told them about her expertise (he might have been bragging), and alluded to her past, but he made sure to leave out her identity.

She left that life behind, he wanted to respect her privacy, that was for her alone to tell. He knew they’d still want her if they knew, knew the bureau could dream up charges to get her to agree...

“Ha. Tar, I know you’d love nothing more than a chance to see her again, and if things keep going the way they are, maybe I’ll have her meet me for lunch so you all can gawk from that fishbowl before we vanish into the elevator, but I am not bringing a civilian into what we do. Definitely not her.”

He’s on a group call, the team in the office, Luke at home, day four of testing out his ‘working from home unless absolutely needed’ routine, a new compromise from Prentiss to make up for all the away cases they’d had since the wedding now that things have gone into a lull.

When he told Penelope about the offer she jokingly declared she was going to write thank you notes to the whole of the BAU and the director of the FBI and send them along with a batch of each of their favorite cookies, he chose to ignore exactly how she was going to get that information.

Penelope thinks it’s nice having him around, someone to talk to and banter with, a chance for them to get closer. She’s enjoyed showing off her work with SOAR, and baking for them (he especially likes her chocolate chip cookies, and her dog cookies for Roxy). She’s hopeful the temporary arrangement will help more with the needed work/home mindset adjustment he’s had such trouble with, that it’ll continue to ease him into a better balance, maybe even make him realize other things can be important too… maybe even more important sometimes…

Luke, however, doesn’t think blending work and home have been a good idea, he’s felt on edge running background on cases remotely, choosing his words carefully so that other ears don’t overhear, always keeping the cursor primed to minimize a screen should something be up and she walk by. This phone call, what his unit is now trying to goad him into agreeing to has only added to the “bad idea” camp. To him this phone call is the start of the end.

“Luke, she does sound like an excellent resource-”

“My WIFE is not a resource,” The comment is sudden, and volatile, and about her? Piquing her interest, her head angles up and her body leans towards the door from in front of his dresser mirror. What follows is quiet, but can only be compared to a roar in intensity, “she is a person who did not ask to be around what we see everyday!”

“Luke, no one is saying-”

“No, no one is thinking,” he counters angrily, “She volunteers at an animal rescue! She runs a support group for grieving families. She doesn’t even eat meat! Prentiss- She’s. No. I, I get it, she has very valuable skills, ones that would-”

“That could break this for us.” Prentiss finishes in her maddeningly even voice. “She’s compassionate, right? Then Luke, we’ll shield her… but if she’d be willing to do some deep digging…Help us nail this guy…We can protect her, Luke. But if she’s really that good, think about the victims that could be saved, the ones that could be prevented… Aren’t they worth it?”

Penelope tiptoes on her stockinged feet to the door, positioning herself in a better spot to eavesdrop on the fractured conversation.

“Absolutely not. No. I already told you I will not ask her. She will not do it.”

Balancing work and his personal life was already proving to be a battle, combining the two in this way was a sure-fire recipe for disaster, he just didn’t know which would blow up first.

“Luke, you know we’re down, you know this could help. We’ve been after this guy for months-”

“Don’t- don’t do this to me Lewis, don’t push that line- Find another way. Find. Another. Person.”

The words are chillingly cold. Penelope bites her lower lip, peeking out from the crack in the door and jerks back, swallowing a squeak as he erupts in a furious growl, pitching his phone at the armchair across from himself.

She’s never seen him so mad, seen this side of him. Knowing it had something to do with her, that he was being protective over her, ignites a part of her she’d just as well not acknowledge and makes her all the more curious as to what exactly was being asked on the other end.

Timidly, she opens the door and comes out sittings on the edge of the couch closest to where he now slumps in the other orange chair. “Another case?”

There’s an intake of breath before he answers, “-Sort of,” he sighs, defeated, unable to look at her, not wanting to fall back into how things were, knowing that eventually he’d have to anyway, and preparing for the disappointment she’s about to unload and the disappointment of letting down his team.

She had gotten him to open up a few days ago while making dinner, maybe if she prodded gently, he’d be willing to do it again. Taking a page out of his book, Penelope reaches out, covering his hand with hers, then positions herself, kneeling in front of him, settling back on her heels, “…Can I ask who won’t do what, or is that top secret?”

Luke looks down at her with a wry smile, this magical woman, this genius funny sexy talented woman he didn’t deserve sinking to her knees in front of him, looking up at him like that; wide eyed, innocent, trusting, glossy lips and blushing round cheeks and blushing round...

His eyes zip back to hers, pleading, entreating. There was a god, and he was evil, “You.” he says after a struggle that feels like millennia, “The team… they want me to ask you to help us. Tara remembered what I said about how good you are, your specific talent-”

“You talk about me?”

“Penelope-” The genuine perplexity of it is a knife digging neatly into his chest, the fact that she thought she could be so easily out of sight, out of mind. Was it everyone before him, or was it just him who had made her feel that way?

She kneels up, wiggling as she waves a hand dismissively, “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Go on.”

Despite the situation he smirks in response. “My boss feels someone with your skills could really help us. But I told them no. I don’t want to put you in that position. -It’s too much of a ris-”

“I’ll do it.” The words are out before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“No, I’m not-”

Kneeling up again she places a single polished finger against his lips, “Luke. SHH. If it’ll help, I’ll do it.”

He hesitates, he doesn’t want to make her aware- more aware of that world, of his world, he doesn’t want to put her in that position, but even he had mentioned how they scout for individuals who specialize in doing what she can do and she’d be the first to tell you, she is the best. He knows if she’s willing, it isn’t up to him, still he wants to make his position clear, "Penelope, I am not asking you to do this, don’t feel like you need to-"

Removing her finger, she caresses his cheek, thumb stroking and smoothing the concern at the corners of his eyes. He brings a large hand up to cup her own, holding it to his face, eyes closing. Luke nuzzles into the warmth of her, holding her to him he turns his head, she holds her breath, stomach knotting as he places a soft kiss to her palm.

Penelope’s tongue unsticks her lips, “You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering. This isn’t for you,” she lies, “You told me before, I’m like a superhero…well, superheroes work together. I want to help.”

Working together on something he deemed important would bring them together, they were still trying to connect, to catch up… they needed to take opportunities as they came, and this would let them learn more about each other. “I want to do this. Luke, I like helping people and I know I'm the best.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet-”

She shrugs, feigning indifference, “Like I said, I’m the best. We can both be superheroes.”

—

What had started out as Penelope tracking and compiling everything they needed with unparalleled speed, quickly morphed into the situation Luke had predicted.

They were already exposing her to the dark and sordid imagery of Congressman Whitt’s digital footprint -not shielding her from it like Prentiss suggested was possible- And they still needed to make sure their case was solid, prove without a doubt he’d abducted, restrained, drugged, and raped those women- all on a live-streaming platform with “customers” paying for the privilege of assault by proxy… But the only way to take down someone so well connected would be to catch him in the act.

“Sorry to be the bearer of awful news to all you very beautiful, very in need of therapy people, but it looks like he’s planning on snatching someone tonight.” Penelope stood in their small conference room in front of a flatscreen tv frowning over her findings. On the screen she displayed the decoded message she found that had been sent out this morning to creeps in the know. The group of agents watched in awe at the depth and detail of what she’d been able to discover and how quickly she’d been able to do it.

“Alvez, you weren’t kidding” Tara hums.

“Ms. Garcia, you have been an invaluable help, thank you.” Prentiss says, gesturing for her to join them at the table.

Penelope responds with a quickly vanishing pleased look and passes off the remote, sitting in the chair next to Luke. He snatches her hand, catching her eyes when she meets him, “Hey,” he whispers low, “are you ok? I’m sorry you had to see that-” he’d noticed her shudder and blanch at the new countdown she’d popped up for them to see.

His thumb caresses the back of her hand, she notices he hasn’t stopped petting and stroking her, keeping in contact with her, since they entered the building. Even in the office they’d set up for her he came in, hands on the top of her chair finding their way to her neck, her shoulders- it reminds her of their wedding day- small brushes of finger tips, his gaze never leaving her. “It’s fine, we’ve all seen the ID channel,” she says, brushing it off. She could be strong, she doesn’t want them to think she can’t handle it.

Luke frowns giving her a look, Penelope smiles back, insisting, “I’m fine-”

“Alright, we knew he was going to be at tonight’s gala, and now thanks to Ms. Garcia’s skilled work, we know he’s teased another stream, which means he’s planning on finding another victim tonight, likely at or around the dinner.”

“-It would be great if we knew who the target was,” Matt says.

“Well, we do know he’s an opportunist and likes to have a few options to offer up, so he won’t have a victim picked out, which we could use to our advantage if we had someone on the inside. But on such short notice and with all the additional security being distributed around the city, we definitely won’t be approved for that, you all know the director isn’t especially supportive of this-”

Penelope watches as they continue to talk through their options, talk through a plan, ignoring what she feels is an obvious solution sitting in the room with them, until finally offering, “…I can do it-”

“Not a chance.” Luke shuts the idea down so fast she can only assume it had been on his mind as well, maybe even quietly hoping it wouldn’t get brought up.

Prentiss, hesitant about using a civilian with no prior experience on such a dire case, looks between the two of them, “Iiiii don’t know…”

“I’m his type, right? Blonde, bubbly, and I have been told- entirely sexy-”

“Penelope-” He was definitely hoping no one would bring up the similarities between Penelope and the victims, suggest…

What he got instead was his wife using his -private- admissions as ammo against him in some bullheaded effort to prove… he didn’t even know what she could be trying to prove.

“Luke! It’s not up to you, it’s up to her,” Penelope says, nodding to Prentiss standing hunched over the table, “and you need someone-”

“But not you” he grits through clenched teeth, a hand moving to her knee as he turns to her, the other still covering her hand on the table. He could give two fucks about anyone else in the room right now, it was only her he was having this conversation with.

“Why not? You trust them, don’t you? I trust you. Plus, I do theater, so I can keep up a front-” this she says to the team at large.

Penelope doesn’t say the other part that she’s thinking, that she’s already had experience being a victim of attempted murder once, so a second time with supervision shouldn’t be that bad.

The…experience was something she still hadn’t told him about.

She had thought about telling him a few nights ago, telling him she understood why his job was so important, and not just because she had JJ and Derek in her life, but because of what she’d gone through…what she wouldn’t have survived without them. She knows if she had told him then, there’s absolutely no way he’d allow her to do this, he’d make sure, so secretly she’s thankful it hasn’t felt like the right time.

The team watches the exchange play out, Luke dead set against her involvement, Penelope insistent she’s capable.

Despite Luke’s protest, Emily can’t help but weigh the offer; she was right here willing to do it, knew about the unsub, had helped them endlessly…but she was also a civilian they’d just met who had a history of circumventing the law in accordance with her own morals, she had no formal training, they didn’t know how well she’d be able to play this off…and Alvez would clearly be compromised during the operation.

But if it worked, they could catch Whitt tonight.

Mind not yet made up, she breaks in, “Even if I said yes, we still couldn’t get approval… or tickets-”

Penelope looks away from Luke, grinning up at his boss, “Of all the tricks I’ve pulled today, those are going to be the easiest…and the most fun”

He can tell Penelope has no intention of listening to him, her mind already made up. Relenting, he changes tactics, “I’m not letting you go alone. If you go, I go.” Luke turns his attention to Prentiss, finishing, “-every step of the way.”

If she insisted on doing this, if Prentiss approved, there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Just the idea of her talking with the congressman, being in the same room with him, on that cam footage for all those creeps to see, made Luke broil. She was serving herself up on a platter after seeing what he’d done to women who looked like herself. He would be sure it didn’t go that far.

Penelope strokes his cheek like she had this morning, gazing at him, “You’re the only one I know, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

There’s little time, but Penelope manages to secure a group of suites in the city near the gala, forge tickets, and change the guest list to include two agents and herself, all while being coached by Luke’s boss and his teammate Tara on what to do and how to respond. The day goes by quickly leaving no time to process, dwell, and allow nerves to build.

Stings, she gets the impression, don’t normally come together so fast or out of the blue. On tv she knows it’s either months of planning every detail, or quickly throwing someone in in the moment. Maybe that last type isn’t quite true for them.

She also gets the feeling that his boss, Prentiss, is worried about the subject of their sting. He’s a big deal in DC, a man with deep pockets and friends in high places, someone who doesn’t need to be paid to do these horrible things, a defense they’d no doubt rely on. She already wanted to show Luke she could handle what his world was, that she could take on some of his burden and he could open up to her, but watching those videos, reading what those men wrote, hearing those girls…she wanted to help them, and if that meant dressing up, she was more than willing to do it.

The dress they gave her to “up” however was….hideous.

It would need much much “upping” if she were to be irresistible enough to inspire a chatroom full of subhuman cowards to….want her. Unfortunately, the bureau wouldn’t let her wear her own clothing (maybe for her that was a good thing?), something about rules, and there was no time to go shopping with all the sleuthing and forging and convincing and prepping and practicing. So instead she’s left with this.

Penelope examines the shapeless reflection in the mirror impressed there is a garment capable of so wholly camouflaging her more prominent features. She considers one last appeal to the bureau to let her wear something from her own wardrobe…something more flattering.

She’d insisted that her closet was chock full of goodies for every occasion, but she would have to agree, her closet certainly didn’t (and never would) have a dress like this.

Black-tie indeed. The floor length, black dress had all the appeal of a graduation robe. She’s matronly and generic and if she were going to be the prime choice tonight, this dress would not do.

Twisting left and right, pinching at fabric and checking seams, she quirks her mouth thoughtfully, glad she’s up to the task of dressing it up. All those years transforming her own things finally had a use beyond personal esthetic.

Hacking off the high round collar, she winces and hopes this doesn’t constitute destroying federal property as she morphs the neckline into a perfectly cleavage framing low V (modeled after one of her tried and true f-me dresses). She lifts and brings in the waist, fitting the skirt through her middle in gathers, softly draping at the narrowest part of her, and finally she takes the elbow-length bell sleeves and carefully pleats and folds them like origami rings at the high point of her shoulder, leaving her arms bare. She’s wearing her best push-up bra to help push all that cleavage right to eye level, and she thinks about stockings, but ultimately decides against them, the dress covered her legs anyway…though she was very tempted to add a thigh high slit.

Looking at the transformation, she should be uncomfortable. This moody, vampy thing reminds her of her past, of someone she no longer is…someone naive and angry and desperate to fit in…someone trying to find their place. Their peace. She should be uncomfortable in that Penelope’s skin, but she isn’t, and maybe it’s because that person was the right one to be tonight…Maybe that’s how she can get through this undetected. The changes she’s made to the matte black silk, she’s sure are more than enough to make her stand out in a sea of predictable sparkling navy and red DC housewives, but if they aren’t she’s sure she will be.

Penelope curls her hair and removes the large white cube necklace she’d been wearing earlier, exchanges the alien earrings and mahjong tile bracelet for a cleavage dusting lariat and a malachite point tipped gold horseshoe bangle, and lastly, takes the 8-ball ring off her pinky leaving only her wedding ring.

Twisting the emerald, flicking the band left and right, she knows she can’t leave it there if she plans on being desirable bait (a missing married woman would be too quickly noticed), but she’s struggling with the thought of taking it off.

Like ripping off a bandaid, she quickly plucks it from her finger placing it on the dresser, but just as quickly she snatches it back up. Penelope frowns thinking about how stupid it is to feel so attached to a piece of jewelry, feel so wrong. Old Penelope, The Black Queen, certainly wouldn’t have, and after all, she doubts he wears his all the time, he’s only known her, been married, for almost six weeks.

But not wearing it feels…like betrayal…like a slap.

Instead she places it on her right hand. At least this way it’s still with her. If he notices when he comes to get her, she’ll just explain, though if she’s being honest, she’s hoping for some visual confirmation that her handiwork has made her as distraction-worthy as she feels.

Thinking back to every one of his slow outfit appraisals, the quickly averted, heated looks that set her skin on fire, she’s looking forward to tonight’s reaction the most. How he would feel about this side of her, this part that was so much of her for so long. Would he be put off? Would he laugh when he saw her, be mad she altered the dress? That she was revealing so much of herself…for them. Would he be so overcome with passion and possessiveness that he’d take her in his arms, unable to control himself any longer and pin her to the door, crush his lips, his body, to hers?  Immobilizing, determined to show her she was his, his bulletproof vest firm against her under his tux, his thigh pressing her legs to spread…kissing her furiously, roughly kissing down her throat, toothy hands hiking up her skirt…up her thigh….

Focused on the fantasy playing out in her head, Penelope shrieks in surprise at the ring of the door bell and quickly applies the finishing touches of makeup- some pink blush and candy red sheer lipstick before hurriedly snatching her clutch and scurrying to her waiting husband.

But opening the door she’s only met with disappointment. Behind the door there is no ego boosting, jealously wandering eyes from the mouth watering husband she’d so well imagined, in fact, there’s no mouth-watering husband at all.

What she finds on the other side of her door is instead a different unfairly beautiful person.

Tara, now dressed to the nines, is waiting to escort her to the SUV that will drive them into DC. She can’t help but notice how, unlike what Penelope was first given, Tara’s dress doesn’t make her look like an 80s schoolmarm.

Tara, narrowing her eyes, inspects Penelope, “That’s the bureau’s dress?”

Smoothing her hands down the sides of her skirt, Penelope responds as evenly as possible, “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, she wasn’t lying to a federal agent. This was the dress, she just improved it is all. Improved their chances of her being picked. And anyway, they gave her that one.

“Right.” Tara smirks, “We should get going. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Penelope closes and locks the door behind her, she’ll just have to settle for hot husband glances on the way there.

In the vehicle however, there is no Luke either.

He had said every step of the way, didn’t that include picking her up and going to the city?

She doesn’t admit that she’d fantasized anticipated him drinking her in, his expression turning parched, eyes wide and tracking like she’d caught him doing so many times before…but finding only Matt, Penelope, can’t stop herself from asking, “Not that the two of you aren’t gorgeous and delightful and I’m sure very great company, but…where’s my- Where’s Luke?”

She doesn’t want them to think she’s not brave enough for this, she is, or that she’s clingy and needs him around- she’s not some sad husband reliant trad-wife. She’s independent, she has her own life, she had a very full life before he was matched with her and she’d have one after- She didn’t need him to protect her, she had volunteered, insisted because she knew she could do this- She would be fine…she just…wanted to know.

Matt looks back at her in the rearview, smiling, “You don’t look too bad there yourself, Garcia, sorry Luke couldn’t be the one to see it-“ Tara jumps in explaining the last minute change of plans. Matt, looking more the part of a gala attendee, swapped roles with Luke, Luke and Prentiss went on ahead to set everything up at the hotel and gala.

It’s then that the scope and specifics of the situation really click. Her life is in the hands of strangers, their success is in hers, things can change at a moment's notice and her being the odd-man out, not an FBI agent, they are under no obligation to consult or inform her. Luke was possibly even instructed not to inform her. She isn’t familiar with how they operate, how they handle things on the fly, and the person she’s the most familiar with, she’s only known for a few weeks at best. Penelope flexes and stretches her fingers, willing the needles forming to vaporize. She’s capable of handling herself, she’s been in worse situations alone before and come out fine, she could do this, just like she’d told them.

“It was a pretty big blow-up actually,” Tara goes on, “He was insistent on being here with you.” She doesn’t want Alvez’s new wife thinking this was on him, that he’d lied, “…It’s just…not always up to us. Prentiss felt he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself in check, and he kind of proved her right with how he reacted… But looking at you, I don’t know that making him play catering staff will make a difference.”

The rest of the way to DC is filled with review, last minute prepping, and cues, Penelope watching the landscape and sky change from the passenger window as Tara continues to test and prime her.

At the hotel, Tara shows her an ear piece and small camera she’ll be outfitted with, Penelope distracts herself by setting up a laptop with a fake account, joining the congressman’s watch party, and adding a backdoor server to record everything undetected. There’s still no Luke and no Prentiss, they’re at the event space double checking physical layouts to Penelope’s found blueprints and giving as few people in charge a heads up as possible, but there is that Anderson guy. She shows him how the chats and servers work and what to do if certain tech-related scenarios come up, and writes it all down for him just in case on some turquoise sticky notes floating in her bag.

“What happened to the Bureau’s dress, Ms. Garcia?” She hears it in her ear. This is the sound check Tara told her about, Prentiss must have seen what she did to the dress when Tara was showing her the camera pin. Thankfully, she hears what she thinks is a hint of amusement in the question and decides to use that opening.

“Funny thing, I put it in the wash, and wouldn’t you know, it shrunk!” Tara, Matt, and Anderson snicker from around the room.

“Let’s be sure it doesn’t happen again, we want you to be picked, not picked apart”

“Ma’am.”

“-Don’t- call me ma’am.”

Two agents and one former hacker pack up and head out to an extravagant evening none of them are bound to enjoy. The nerves start to creep in.

~~

From one of the rooms Penelope secured, Prentiss runs laptop surveillance along with Anderson, keeping track of the feed that’s streaming through a lens in Whitt’s boutonniere. “So far he’s signaled between the caterer near the north end of the patio, the musician who just excused herself to the lady’s, and Ms. Garcia” she gives a rundown of the targeted options to the four at the Gala through their earpieces.

A muscle turning feeling crawls beneath Penelope’s skin at the information that she’s made his notice, a shudder jerking her from the shoulders down hearing the confirmation. Three hours into the night, three hours. Was that all it took? Even the knowledge that Tara and Matt were triangulating the room with her, keeping an eye on Whitt and the possible would-be victims, that Luke was here too, ready should anything happen, didn’t feel like enough.

“He can’t do anything, I'm right here,” comes in cooly, seemingly right next to her. His voice like a string lacing and constricting her chest.

Luke’s been tracking her since their arrival, though the woman he sees walk in looks more like the devil on a shoulder version of his wife than the living jawbreaker- tough ball of rainbows- he’s used to seeing. He’s not complaining though, the inky black dress contrasts her pale skin and makes her blonde hair glow gold, and the shape, the cut, how she fills it out- she looks devious and sultry and perfectly wicked in just the right way. But he wonders how much of this is some shield or wall, something to just get through tonight, and if it is, is he wrong being this enamored with a side that isn’t a side at all?

“Penelope, remember, we want them to pick you, you need to make yourself more present” this time it’s Prentiss breaking through the space in her ear.

She doesn’t speak but she slowly nods her head. Duh, that’s why I chopped up the dress...

She knows from the recordings it’s not that easy, if she approaches him, they won’t like it, won’t like her. She needs to be aloof, but confident, a little brash, and flirty. She needs to make them want her, want to punish her, to have a powerful man put her in her place. Closing her eyes, she channels her other persona, the one who’s smart and sassy- a bolder, more forward version of herself. The person she used to be…but that’s not who she is any more and she’s not sure she can muster it fully… remember her intricacies. What if they see through her? Worse yet, what if one of them knows her? Would they recognize her after all these years? Was she dooming the sting before ever entering his orbit? This was so stupid, she should have thought this through, created a better disguise. What if they were using her?

Entirely worked up and filling with self-doubt, Penelope drifts across the room, mentally repeating that she’s safe, that no one recognizes her, and even if they did, she’s in a well-lit place in a crowded room and there are agents and security all around, Luke, though she’s only heard him...

Looking around, she spots a group of younger, strong jawed men adjacent to the congressman. They look the type to have been on Crew at Yale or Harvard, the type to drink too much, and get too handsy- politicians sons, the perfect group to be noticed with.

She drains her champagne, joining them, flirting. It’s a tactic that works like a charm, no sooner had she joined the group of men, laughing and touching, squeezing biceps and brushing lapels aside, did Whitt approach.

“Champagne?”

The voice isn’t the congressman’s though, it’s the one in her ear, but it isn’t from the piece, this time it’s behind her. Penelope turns, feeling the wash of relief at his warm eyes finally where she can see them.

Luke had positioned himself between Penelope and the congressman, creating a physical barrier. If any man was approaching his wife tonight, he would be the first.

Irritated at being cut off from his target, Congressman Whitt picks up two flutes from the proffered tray and with a slick sleight of hand drops sedatives into one. Sidestepping, he reaches past Luke, ignoring his presence, and offers it to Penelope.

She grins wide, placing her empty glass on the tray, one hand sliding out to slip around the slim crystal stem, the other sliding down Luke’s hip, not so discreetly squeezing his ass. Luke’s eyebrows jump in surprise, but quick reactions allows him to catch himself before his arm and tray swoop.

Her eyes never leave the congressman as she delivers a coy smile, “What a gentleman, I do like to keep my hands full,” Penelope purrs, taking the spiked champaign.

“Nice job, Garcia- they really did not like that, the comment section is lighting up,”

Luke’s free hand slips down covering her own, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze back before removing it.

She hears the buzz and watches Whitt check his phone, his eyes careful not to fall on her as he reads, careful to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re on, Penelope.”

From that point on it’s a waiting game filled with tension, everything seemingly pulling back before the slingshot forward.

After some small talk, Whitt politely excuses himself. The less time he’s around her, the less outward interest he takes in her, the less likely he is to be suspected when her dead body’s found in the park tomorrow morning.

With the congressman now making himself noticed schmoozing across the room, Tara reminds Penelope to keep her head in the game, timing is crucial. He’ll wait for the drugs to kick in, wait until his victim is weak, wait for them to seclude themselves, wait for everyone else to become suitably drunk and high and otherwise distracted, then when they’re too incapacitated to put up a fight, he’ll strike. If she succumbs too soon he could get suspicious, if she takes too long, he could change his mind. Waiting for the timed signal, Penelope continues to make sure she’s seen flirting and flitting with every man in the room, at one point even feeling up the delectable Matt Simmons, coining him ‘Biceps’ as she batted her eyes and teased him, much to Luke’s displeasure.

Pantomiming working the room, Whitt watches from a distance incrementally simmering with rage until Penelope, given the direction, feigns going under. Swooning and swaying, fanning herself, she stumbles to the patio, alone.

She holds onto the gritty cement balustrade, eyes closed, cold of the night hitting her, sucking down air, stomach knotting with the knowledge that this was the plan, but the plan put her in direct physical contact with a tortuous murderer. Her body swoops, -the act just a little too good- knees going weak from the anticipated attack. Before she can regain any kind of composure she feels a thick clammy hand on her back and hears his drawling voice, “Hey there Cinderella, had a little too much to drink?”

She swallows, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to think about where he plans on this going, but thinking about the women before her she forces her eyes open, forces the lazy slipping grin of an easier, unperturbed seductress unaware of the horrors that await her. She shrugs, slowly batting her lashes and sways again.

Luke keeps eyes on her from the far side of the ballroom, Tara and Matt from a point in the garden, the act is good, too good. The trio start to worry, had she slipped up and accidentally ingested the spiked champagne?

How much control did she really have? Was she this good of an actress? He shouldn’t have ever allowed Prentiss to approve her, he shouldn’t have told Penelope at all.

Whitt’s hand moves holding her more firmly as he braces around her side, “Why don’t you come with me, I can help-” Penelope tries to get it out, but the words won’t come, fear stuck in her throat, she resists, but he’s quick. All of a sudden she feels the tip of a knife pointing into her other side, “You can fill your hands with something real-” is hissed into her ear. She tries to push away, but freeze takes over, hyperventilating, panic. She’s alone and she can’t move, she whimpers at the sharp pull, Whitt grabbing her by the hair, the hand with the knife wrapping around her. She feels the zhhht- zhhht- zhhht of the blade zig-zaging up her dress, feels the sharp tip find and press to flesh, “I said let’s go you fucking whore-” He pulls her against himself, her back to his chest, she struggles against his grip. He’s taking her and they’re not here, no one is doing anything to stop him, there’s no Prentiss in her ear, no Luke-

The moment he sees Whitt touch her his hand flinches, reaching for his gun.

“Alvez, stand down, we don’t have anything yet-” she’s disconnected Penelope’s radio, not willing to risk Whitt overhearing them through it.

“Prentiss he has her-”

“I said, wait!”

His stomach churns watching the blade slide up her chest, Penelope’s head jerking back and her mouth dropping in a cry.

Every muscle in his body compresses, tenses, braces, “Prentiss, god damn it, he’s taking her!”

There’s urgency in his voice, a thread of distress, Whitt’s actions are alarmingly bold given the setting, but obediently Luke holds back- for a breath-

Whitt’s arm tightening around her.

Then two-

Penelope’s heels dragging back on the flagstone.

Waits until it feels too long

waits until-

“-Fuck this-” shatters. In one fell swoop the silver tray is replaced with a handgun, Luke rushing in a crouch to the patio doors, peaking around the curtain, lining up his shot, “Cover me-”

He steps out into the dark terrace, gun trained, stance even, level, voice ringing out against the din of the party, “Congressman Whitt, FBI, let her go-,” a clear command.

There’s a glimpse of Luke before her head is snapped back, vision pulling to the dark sky above, her body propelling forward. The sharp sound of a knife clattering to stone is like a gunshot, the second she hears it Penelope’s stumble turns into a run and in no time flat she’s colliding heavily into Luke’s chest, his open arm, their bodies rocking with the force, the commotion behind her unintelligible, the others apprehending and arresting Whitt.

Matt steps in front of the congressman, kicking the knife away and reading his rights as Tara roughly takes him by the arms, clicking the cuffs into place. "This is all a misunderstanding, I don’t know what you think you saw- This poor young lady is clearly unstable- She was trying to kill herself! I was trying to stop her! Maybe she was drugged! Put up to it- She was with some young men earlier, I bet they slipped her something-" He bellows and blusters the revisionist story ignorant to the fact that he’d been set up, that they have the whole thing on tape- his own feed.

Tara and an officer escort the protesting congressman to a waiting patrol car. The whole time Luke keeps one arm secure around Penelope’s back holding her to him and the other with his gun trained on the congressman being led away, ready should he make a single move.

“Prentiss, Anderson, you get everything?” Luke feels her arms constrict around his waist when he asks.

“We’ve got it. Unless Ms. Garcia thinks anything needs to be done with this tonight, she can get some rest- Alvez, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.” He hears the finality, the awaiting reprimand in her voice, he can’t bring himself to care.

Holstering his gun, he pulls out the ear piece, bringing both arms to circle Penelope tightly. His chin hooks over her shoulder as his hands run up and down her back, “Penelope” it's a prayer on her neck, tangling in her hair.  

[boredandelusive]

23.

More time has passed than I thought, but since I'm on spring break from college, I can at least upload this part and the next before I go back. Shit has been hectic, and though I'm not sure when the next chapter will be that I upload besides the second half of her performance, I think it's a start. Enjoy these fluffy moments... Link to the playlist here.

♞

Even if she didn't want to see his face in the crowd, she still had a performance to get through and her unresolved feelings will not impede that. Taking her seat as the first violinist, the oboe played a note, signaling the rest of the band to tune to that note. As the note rang through the building, anyone in the crowd immediately went silent to not interrupt the performance.

"Hana-Bi" was the first song to play, and the piano began the tune with the orchestra following behind. A visual in the background followed streaks of light. As the piano stopped playing, the musical dynamics never faltered, even as the tune expressed an emotion that couldn't be said.

As the piano had a solo with the first seatings in the instrumental arrangements, the cello and double bass quieted down. Kiara and Milton were the only two who played at this moment, the piano following the violin. Even as her nerves grew, her fingers remained unchanging, and when her solo was over, the sound of the other instruments plucking their strings with the piano gave a feeling of walking on clouds.

When the piano played solo for a bit, the rest of the orchestra followed behind with the climax of the song. The difference in playing speed to sound like the song went too fast was purposeful, yet the other instruments caught up in time for the resolution of the song. When the first song finished, there was an immediate shift to "Doves and the Boy/The Girl Who Fell from the Sky."

Trumpet and Cornet began the song to sound like angels playing over a crowd. The rest of the instruments followed suit, the percussion both leading and following. As the piano brought in the next movement, double reed instruments had a supporting part before the violins began the next movement in the heartfelt song. The sound of the cymbals crashing with the rest of the orchestra following into the music went in tandem with the visual of a floating castle caught in the cloud.

Cellos led the sound before the strings ushered the climax, yet each instrument played could be heard as the support to another. Even if the song's end led to an upbeat march, the feeling wouldn't be forgotten. "A Street Brawl/The Chase/Floating with the Crystal" was the next selection to play as the snare led the band in tempo.

The orchestra's sound grew fuller as the song moved to a faster tempo, resembling a march. This was not the end, however, as the next movement had more action from the brass instruments. The song's final climax led to fast-fingered trills within the violins as the brass instruments led the piece.

What brought the song to a close was the violins, bringing the sound to a relaxing tone as if whisking through a forest to a side of paradise. "Memories of Gondoa" had a lighthearted sound from the flutes and violins playing together. Because the song is shorter than the others, "The Crisis/Disheartened Pazu" followed with an urgent tone in the beginning.

The oboe brought the tone of worry into the music, with the first violins leading the music. Because there was a false sense of relief, the song's end gave a quiet hand into "Robot Soldier/Resurrection-Rescue." A more demanding and action-packed song followed, giving way to the strings and snare leading the audience to a climax of a march-like ending.

"Gran'ma Dola" started with an immediate tone, like someone snuck around, but still had the power to it. The straightforward piece left a feeling of no discussion, but when the orchestra quieted for the oboe/bassoon solo, the rest of the instruments came with a forceful tone. The violin used a feeling of compassion before the song's tempo sped up to give the audience an edge.

"The Castle of Time" was led with violin and the other strings coming in after the solo. The leading tone within the song was picked up by the flutes leading the next section before giving the melody to the violins. A climb to the height of the song felt like discovering something new before the resolve faded to the next song.

"Innocent" began with the piano playing a solo while the rest of the orchestra quieted down. Once the rest of the string instruments followed the cues, the tone of the song would bring tears to anyone who listened. What followed the cello/piano moved to a part with Kiara, specifically making her lead the trio section in the song. Even though this song had an entire orchestra to follow, the four of the group only played.

"The Eternal Tree of Life" transitioned the end from piano to vibraphone with flutes following the percussion before the rest of the accompaniment followed. The song was short, even if the feeling lasted forever. This song concluded the "Castle in the Sky" suite, leaving the audience room to clap as one section of the performance finished.

"The Legend of Ashitaka" was one of the few songs that weren't in a set like the previous songs. Timpani began the tune, followed only by the low strings, before clarinets came in to alleviate the warning in the song. As the orchestra built its sound, three seconds of silence passed before the strings led to the music.

The rising and fall of each note swayed the music of trees in a light wind before the French horns, cornet, and piano ushered in the next movement. The experience brought joy to Kiara's face, washing away any final feeling of regret. Even as the music quieted down to let the oboe's part show out, the cornet followed and brought the climax of the song to an astounding volume that echoes from the walls.

From one instrument to another, the call and response from one section to another with cymbals crashing led to a beautiful resolve. The next song, "On a Clear Day/A Town with an Ocean View" began with an exploring feeling as if arriving somewhere beautiful and quiet.

When the rest of the orchestra joined in, the fluttering sounds of the flutes mimicking birds paved to a sound unmatched. The sight of a child on a broomstick flying into town showed on the screen before showing her coming into town for the first time. The second half of the music began with a volume suddenly diminished to half the value.

While the piano and flute responded to the brass's call, the music connected once again to give a fluttering feeling to the audience's call. Kiara's small solo in the song only played with the bassoon responding and the second violins being the background. The climax of the song led to a galloping point in the song before the feeling switched to that of a waltz.

The song leaves on a high note, transitioning to "Madness" without time to clap for the previous song. A sense of urgency returns in the music, led by the piano with the supporting parts in the rest of the orchestra. Even with the frantic notes being played with precision and accuracy, the flutes were not silenced with their runs.

Tempo never slowed down as the eerie feeling only remained without a breath of relief. A call from the piano to the strings only increased any feelings of rush, yet there was still no sense of relief found. Sharp notes from the violins mimic the footsteps of people rushing away from an imaginary situation. The song comes to a brash end, leaving the audience on a cliffhanger.

As the audience claps from the previous song, "One Summer's Day" began with the piano and the strings leading the song. Even as the smooth tone never changed in the music, there wasn't a moment that grew to fill the room, leaving the audience to lean forward to hear the music better. Only toward the end did an adventurous tone arise from the sound.

"Princess Mononoke" followed immediately after as the piano-led yet another song. Where Kiara's accompanied solo to the other instruments, leaning into the touch of her strings. The rest of the sound followed her lead, inviting the cello and double basses to support the sound. Though her part in the song came to an end, she passed the melody onto the flutes, but their part was quick to return it.

Winding up the music to the climax, the notes flying from the fingers of the violin and flute players were nothing to ignore. As the piano closed out the song, the curtains drew to a close. "We will now have a thirty-minute intermission," a voice announced overhead. Even though the show was only halfway through, the past hour felt magical.

Behind the curtains, Kiara stood from her seat and placed her violin down. Regrouping with the others, she met Milton, Katie-Marie, and Maralyn. "That was amazing!" Maralyn cheered, and Kiara and Katie-Marie laughed out of their anxiety. "I mean, hearing the songs in practice is one thing, but connecting it with the acoustics of the room made it sound heavenly."

"I forget you're a music major," Milton says as the group moves to the wings of the stage. "I was so scared I would mess up and everyone would hear the parts I messed up back in practice," he says as he flexes his fingers. "But then it was like muscle memory."

"I'm surprised the flutist was okay with you taking some of her solos in the songs she was supposed to play in," Katie-Marie pointed out, yet Kiara shook her head. "Also, was that your older sister in the crowd?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" She asks next, yet when Katie-Marie pointed to the person behind her, she watched as Mia approached the group. "We'll give you some time," she says as the others move away from the sisters.

"Kiara, that was amazing! I told you there is nothing to worry about," Mia says as she grabs Kiara's hands and held them close.

"There was nothing to worry about. What is Spencer doing here? I didn't tell him about my performance." even though the two weren't an item anymore, she still had anxiety about him being in the Opera House. "And I didn't think you knew him well enough to tell him about tonight."

"That's because I didn't tell him about tonight. You might've forgotten if you told some girls in the BAU, but I know Garcia enough to tell you she would've been the one to tell the others. For now, focus on your performance, and don't worry about Spencer. I'm sure he's only here to apologize."

"You act like this is something to sweep under the rug, Mia. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to him again," no matter how much Kiara convinced herself that she would do fine without him, it was obvious she couldn't let go so easily. Seeing his face after the things he'd said last time without apologizing once and then showing up at a performance she didn't mention...?

"Will you relax? Most guys who break off the relationship don't come crawling back asking for a second chance, especially not someone you were gushing to me for hours on end. When your performance is over, will you at least give him a chance? You might not like it, but you need to listen to the man first before you push him away?" Mia knew how her sister would get, not only because she was stubborn, but convincing herself to not listen to her heart took time.

"I might, but there had better be a good reason for him saying everything he did and showing up after that," even if Kiara didn't realize it now, she was still willing to give Spencer one chance, and that was all he would need. "Intermission ends in five minutes. I need to get back to the stage and grab my second instrument."

Mia watched as Kiara moved away and toward the stage again. "At least listen to what he says! Don't judge him without hearing everything first!" Even if Kiara didn't say anything in response, a sister's intuition told her she would be okay, even if it didn't seem like it now.

[meowiemari]

I really love this whole situation with dom drop and how it works. I only ever known about BSDM like about what it is but never the parts you hav to be careful for. I love How Stella handle the situation with Spencer and how Spencer explained. This is wonderful writing.

Sticks and Stones - Chapter 6 [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Taglist is open, and now has an option to be tagged in this series - you can find the form here.

A/N - here is chapter 6! Lyrics are from Carefully by Demi Lovato, which you can listen to here.

/// indicates change of perspective. Starts in Spencer's POV.

This fic is a slow burn. Strangers to friends to very eventual lovers. Smut to come in later chapters but you will have to bear with it!

CW: mentions of dom drop and brief mentions of BDSM world, angst, angry Spencer, a few swears.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

WC: 3K

—————————————————————

Chapter 6 - Carefully

Intoxicating,

My insecurities don’t take vacations.

So, babe, if you think you can handle me,

Please handle me carefully.

I found Dahlia in the round table room with Penelope, Tara and Rossi. She wasn’t crying anymore, she was staring numbly at the wall.

“She hasn’t said anything, just keeps staring at the wall.” Rossi whispered to me as I arrived with Stella in tow.

“What the fuck did JJ say to her?” I hissed at Emily.

“I don’t really know.” Emily shrugged. “I’ve sent her home to cool off.”

I sighed loudly, still clenching my jaw to the point it was aching.

I stepped into the room and was awash with emotions but none of them were good.

My body flooded with anger, at whom I wasn’t sure. But I knew it was going to find its way out as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Can you not keep it together for an hour while I go home and change?”

My words made her snap her gaze away from the wall and her eyes landed on me.

“W-what?” her lip quivered.

“Do I seriously have to babysit you every second of the day?”

“Reid!” Garcia scalded me but I ignored her.

“Seriously, I haven’t had a minute's peace since she arrived here. Your asshole boyfriend isn’t worth crying over sweetheart.”

“Spencer!” Stella grabbed me by my shoulder a little roughly. “Stop it!”

“I-I don’t understand.” Y/N started crying and Garcia put her arm around the fragile woman.

“Understand this, you are a pain in-“

“Spencer!” Stella cut me off. “With me, now.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me with her while the others watched in confusion as she dragged me out of the room.

“Spencer, you know what this is right?” She spoke once we were out of earshot of everyone.

“This is work Stella, that’s what it is.” I folded my arms.

“No Spencer, this is a Dom drop. Do you remember when we first started this? You explained it to me. The signs, what to look out for.”

“So there’s also a thing called Dom drop that you should be aware of.”

“There’s a lot to this.” Stella laughed a little. “Ok shoot Doc.”

“It’s a sensation of restlessness, depression, guilt and anger and can last a few hours after a scene. I might become despondent and try to push you away. I might even become hyper aggressive. I need you to know in case that ever happens.” I explained to her.

“Ok.” She nodded. “So what do I need to do if you experience this?”

“Well there are a few things…”

“This isn’t that. I’m just pissed off.” I shook my head in denial.

“Spencer Reid,” she put her hands on my shoulders. “You are experiencing Dom drop and I am here for you. If you need to talk or anything I am here.”

She moved behind me, her hands still on my shoulders and she started massaging them.

“It’s ok Spence, play is over. You can let go. You can relax.”

“Can I?” I grumbled, closing my eyes and trying to focus on the feel of her hands on my shoulders.

“Yes, you can. You did nothing wrong. It was just a scene, you are nothing like him.”

I always thought Stella had the ability to read my mind. This felt like proof.

“You need to come down, Pony. Come back to reality. Come back to me.”

What had I done? How could I yell at Y/N like that? She was already terrified and I’d just made everything ten times worse.

“What was that?”

When I opened my eyes Tara was in front of me, eyebrows raised.

“What was that?” she repeated as Stella let go of my shoulders, but stayed close.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “I don’t know. God, I need to apologize to her.” I rushed away from the two women and back towards the round table room.

Rossi was crouched beside her, trying to calm her while Garcia had her arm around her.

“Dahlia,” I approached with caution. But the damage was done.

She whimpered, shuffling behind Garcia to shield me from her.

“Dahlia, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m going to talk for her.” Garcia growled at me. She had never spoken to me like that before. “You crossed a line, Reid, a huge line. She trusted you to take care of her and you ruined that. She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to see you.���

I looked at Y/N over Garcia’s shoulder but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. I didn’t blame her.

“We found Hawthorne.” Rossi spoke up now.

“What?” I gasped a little.

“He’s in custody. We found him while you were...doing whatever it is that you were doing at home.” Rossi looked disappointed in me.

“I was showering and grabbing a change of clothes.” my words didn’t sound convincing.

“Funny seeing as you were wearing that when you left.” Garcia scoffed. “And you smell worse than you did a few hours ago.”

“Y/N is going home.” Rossi spoke again before I had a chance to defend myself. “I suggest you do the same too, kid. Sleep off whatever this is.”

“Y/N, please,” I ignored him. “Please let me explain.”

She whimpered again. She was afraid of me. She was afraid of me the same way she was afraid of Brett. It tore apart my chest. The way she was cowering away from me was like a knife cutting me open, exposing my insides to the world. But I had no one to blame but myself.

I knew if I tried to force my apology on her I would only make her more frightened so I retreated, knowing in the long run it was for the best.

I stepped aside, clearing a space for Rossi and Garcia to lead her from the room, like two mismatched bodyguards.

As she passed she made the briefest of eye contact with me, long enough so I could see what my words had done to her. She didn’t trust easily, that much was evident. But she’d trusted me, and I’d thrown it back in her face.

I’d only ever wanted to make her smile. But somehow I had done the complete opposite. And I wondered if that would ever stop hurting.

///

It went to show how little I had really gotten to know Doctor Reid when he spoke to me like that. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I certainly shouldn’t have been as upset as I was about it.

I’d spent less than a week with him and somehow managed to fool myself that I knew him.

I would wonder how someone could hide the real version of themselves so well if I hadn’t just found out I’d spent eleven years of my life with a serial killer.

Nothing surprised me now. So I wasn’t shocked by Doctor Reid’s outburst. I was upset, I scared, I was confused; but not surprised.

Maybe this was just the way things were going to be now, people were going to constantly let me down.

That’s just great. That’s just what I need.

It felt like I’d been away from my house for years. Nothing had changed, it was all as I’d left it. But everything was different.

I feel like a stranger in these walls. It was as though I’d never stepped foot in this house in my life until this second.

Nothing was different than it had been a few days ago, only everything was different. And it would never be the same again.

I didn’t even turn on the lights, didn’t make it past the living room.

The events of the last few days came crumbling down on me. My fiancé was a serial killer. My fiancé had been killing women for five years and I’d been none the wiser.

How? How could that be possible? Had I really buried my head so far in the sand I hadn’t seen the signs?

My legs gave out under the weight of it all and I collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down my face.

And I started to scream. There was so much pent up inside of me and it seemed the only way to let it out.

So I screamed and I cried. Then I cried and I screamed. And even when my tear ducts felt dry and my throat was raw I cried and I screamed some more.

///

“We need to talk about what happened.” I was halfway to my bedroom when Stella stopped me with her words.

I sighed loudly.

“Not now Stella. I need to sleep off this god awful day. I don’t have any talk in me.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “You don’t want to talk fine. But you are damn sure going to listen.”

She took hold of me by my wrist and pulled me to the couch which didn’t take a lot of effort on her part because I was too exhausted to fight.

“You are a good person Spencer Reid, one of the best in fact.” She took hold of my hands. “You are nothing like that man, nothing do you hear me? You are kind and you are sweet. You always take care of me, a cruel man wouldn’t do that. You always make sure I’m ok above all else. I know this is scary for you because you’ve never experienced a drop before but we both knew it was always a possibility. It was a momentary state Spencer, it does not define you as a person.”

“She trusted me,” I snatched my hands out of hers. “She trusted me, she opened up to me and I completely fucking shattered that in the space of five minutes.”

Stella squeezed my knee, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“It was out of your control, Spence.”

“That’s the worst part.” I shook my head sadly.

Just then my phone started to ring and I considered just ignoring it because I was exhausted. But I knew I couldn’t.

With a large sigh I put the device to my ear.

“Reid.” I held my breath. There couldn’t be another case already, surely? “What? No, I’m glad you called. I’ll head right over.”

I was already up and heading to the door before I hung up the phone.

“What’s going on?” Stella was frowning at me. “You don’t have to go back to Quantico do you?”

“No, not Quantico.” I grabbed my bag. “I’ll explain later, ok?”

She gave me a look as though she was going to press it but she didn’t.

“Just be careful, yeah?”

I smiled softly at her and nodded.

“I always am.”

***

The house seemed quiet by the time I arrived and all the lights were off.

I know she wouldn’t want to see me, I was the last person she would want to see, but I had to make sure she was ok.

I knocked quietly on the door hoping not to startle her. But there was no answer. I tried one more time but again she didn’t answer.

So I tried the handle. To my surprise the door was unlocked. I suppose after spending years locked in she wasn’t in a hurry to repeat that.

“Y/N?” I called out into the dark as I entered, hand on the butt of my gun ready to draw it, just in case. “Y/N? It’s me, Spencer.”

I heard a sniffling followed by, “go a-away I don’t want you h-here.”

I followed the voice and found her sitting in the corner of the room with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest.

The moonlight seeped in through the open curtains and I could see the tear stains on her cheeks.

“Dahlia?” I removed my hand from my holstered weapon.

“Please g-go away. You are the last p-person I want to see.” She wouldn’t make eye contact with me. We’d gone back to square one.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why are you h-here?” She tried to sound angry but she only sounded broken.

“Your neighbours called the police, they heard screaming. Emily heard about it and called me. She thought it would be better for me to come than the cops.”

“I don’t want you here.”

I noticed then she was picking at the stitches on her wrist.

I dropped to the floor next to her and took hold of her elbow, guiding her arm away from her fidgeting fingers.

She flinched a little at my touch and it shattered me.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“So?” She sniffed. “P-please leave.”

She shuffled away from me, the fear evident in her eyes.

She was scared of me. It killed me, but I knew it was my own fault.

“I am so, so sorry for what I said to you and how I acted Dahlia. The last thing I ever wanted to do was scare you.”

“I t-trusted you. You knew what h-he did to me.”

I wanted to reach for her, to hold her but I didn’t want to scare her more.

“Y/N, I’m not that man, I swear.” I was desperate not to cry, but the guilt was consuming me. “I hate that you’re scared of me now.”

“L-leave then. I’ll feel b-better if you leave.”

“I can’t in good conscience leave you like this.”

She still refused to look at me. I knew I was going to have to be straight with her.

“Look Dahlia, this is by no means a good excuse for the way I acted but you need to know why I reacted like that.” I sighed. “I suppose the simplest way to put it is I’m into BDSM. Stella, the woman who was with me, is my submissive and she has been for years. Just before I came back to Quantico we had done a scene. And for the first time I was experiencing what is known as a Dom drop. It’s when your mind can’t quite accept a scene is over and you get stuck in this dominant state. The man that yelled at you was someone I usually leave in the bedroom. I didn’t have a chance to properly adjust afterwards. Like I say, it’s not an excuse, it’s just what happened.”

Finally she turned to look at me.

Her face was a picture of confusion which I anticipated. People found it hard to understand the lifestyle.

“I don’t understand.”

I nodded, knowing I needed to elaborate.

“During a scene the body is releasing dopamine which is giving this high and as soon as the scene is over there is this sudden drop in hormones. During a scene our bodies tap into our sugar content, which leads to lower sugar levels which can make us feel irritable. Also the release of oxytocin can be accompanied by vasopressin which induces feelings of possession and territoriality. Does that make sense? I was in an altered state. It wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but it wasn’t me.” I was rambling, my words coming out faster than I was sure she could process them.

“Regardless of chemicals, you hurt me Spencer. You scared me. I t-trusted you.”

“I know I did Dahlia, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she chewed her lip with a frown.

And I could have lied to her, but I didn’t.

“During the Victorian era, Dahlia flowers symbolised a lasting bond or a lifelong commitment between two people. In the present day they are a symbol to commemorate something new. Meeting you was something my mind wanted to mark and I don’t know what it is but as soon as I laid eyes on you I knew I was bound to you. In what way I’m not sure. But Dahlia just seemed fitting.” I probably sounded crazy, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. I would never lie to her.

“You’re a very interesting man Spencer.” she replied, making me chuckle a little.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

She mused on this for a moment, I’m not sure if she was trying to make me stew or not. Either way it was working.

“I’m not sure forgiven is the right word. But I do appreciate your honesty. You know, you remind me of the Seeker from the book.” Then she gave me the slightest hint of a smile.

And I knew more than ever that I was most certainly bound to this woman.

///

Spencer stayed with me for several hours, sitting on the floor in the dark side by side.

We mostly discussed Wizard's First Rule now I was finished reading it and he was telling me about the rest of the books in the series.

I hung off his every word. I meant it when I said he was interesting although fascinating would have been a better linguistic choice. He spoke with passion no matter the subject and it enthralled me.

By the time he stood from the floor and helped me up, the sun was starting to rise.

“Take my number.” He fished his card out of his satchel and handed it to me. “In case you ever need anything. Even if it’s just for the next book.”

I nodded slightly, taking the card although I wasn’t sure I would ever use it.

“What do you think you’ll do now?” He asked me as I walked him to the door.

“I honestly don’t know. I have a lot of things to process before I can even start thinking about rebuilding my life.” I opened the door for him, it was still a new experience being able to open my own front door.

“Well if you ever need help processing…” he trailed off as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Thanks.” I nodded.

We held each other's gaze for several long seconds. There seemed to be so much unsaid between us in those moments.

Some many words passed subconsciously between us, all the things we were both too afraid to say out loud.

But I knew he understood me. And I understood him.

After a little while he gave me a thoughtful smile.

“Well, goodbye Dahlia.”

“Goodbye Seeker.”

—————————————————————

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