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[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[angellic4l]

ordinary things - s.r

in which; sunshine!reader and season2!spencer grab coffee on their way into work.

content: fluff!! idiots in love ofc, reader loveees autumn, no warnings, gn!reader i’m prettyyy sure, barely any dialogue because i’m far too scared of writing something cringy.

a/n: this is my first fic, i’m being BRAVE posting this ‘cause i am SCARED. i hope whoever reads it enjoys it. i’m also aware it is WINTER, but i felt autumn was more fitting, idk. kisses 💋

Autumn, despite the cold, bitter air and dark mornings it brings to Virginia, is beautiful. In your opinion, anyway. That’s why your face lights up at the first pile of leaves you see outside of your usual coffee shop, the red and orange hues bringing a smile to your face. An even bigger smile than the one you so naturally sport, usually wearing it like a tattoo, almost permanent.

You lightly nudge Spencer’s coat clad arm with your own, pointing at the fiery coloured foliage on the floor, like a child who’s just seen snow for the very first time. Of course, it isn’t your first time seeing autumn leaves, but it excites you the same way nevertheless.

“Oh, Spence, look how pretty they are!” You gush about the leaves, your eyes never leaving the pile on the floor beside the coffee shop door. If they did, you’d have seen that Spencer was already looking at you, your light nudge rendered unnecessary to gain his attention. It was yours the whole time.

A faint chuckle sounds in your ears, soft and breathy, delivered to them by Spencer’s lips.

“Pretty, yeah,” he agrees, his eyes trained on you the whole time, never once dipping to the leaves that you’re so captivated by.

Finally turning your head, gaze diverting from the leaves, to look at Spencer, you see the soft smile adorning his face. With a soft nod of his head towards the door, you both finally enter the coffeehouse, Spencer holding the door for you.

The second you walk in, the warmth from the coffee shop envelops you, a nice contrast from the bitter weather outside, and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans fills your nostrils. Oak tables scatter the small shop, red brick walls complimenting them nicely, and small fairy lights hung to complete the warm atmosphere. It’s like walking into a hug; soothing, pleasant, and warm.

Side by side, you and Spencer stroll over to the counter to order your drinks, pleasantries being exchanged between you and the barista because you frequent the shop almost every morning. Once ordered, the two of you stroll over to the side of the counter to wait patiently for your drinks.

—

Coffee in hand, coat and scarf keeping you warm, and a pep in your step, the pair of you walk side by side over to the FBI building. Cars go past as morning commuters make their way to work, the noise a soothing backdrop to a walk to work with your friend while mid conversation.

“I think autumn’s just so beautiful; the leaves and flowers, how even when they’re dying, parting from their vessel of life, are still so beautiful, y’know?” You ramble, walking in step with Spencer to the BAU.

Another soft chuckle elicits from Spencer’s lip, a similar one to his last chuckle outside of the coffee shop. He doesn’t agree with you this time, though. Turning your head to look at him, a nervous giggle escapes your lips when you see him still laughing.

“What?“

“You have the ability to see beauty in the most ordinary things. It’s endearing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Warmth flushes your face, despite the bitter air outside and you quickly avert your gaze to the pavement in front of you instead. Spencer always has the ability to say the most profound things and every single time, they make you blush.

He blushes slightly too, when you look away. Maybe it’s the weight of his words setting in, or maybe it’s how pretty you look with your face tinted pink because of him.

Either way, the rest of the walk is continued in silence, save for the city’s background noise.

[reiding-writing]

sweet Spencer realizing he has feelings for cold!Reader? I'm obsessed

OH NO. [ONESHOT]

/oʊ noʊ/

Spencer makes a (rather terrifying) revelation in relation to his ice-hearted coworker, who might not actually be all that ice-hearted.

WARNINGS: fem!reader

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 2.3k || series masterlist!

a/n: based on the fact that it was 1°C when i left my house yesterday and i was freezing

main masterlist!!

Sometimes, Spencer Reid hated living in Virginia.

The temperature always felt colder than it did back in Vegas, no matter whether it was in the dead of winter or in the middle of summer, and for someone who didn’t have the best temperature regulation already, that just spelled extra issues for Spencer to deal with on top of everything else.

It was March for god’s sake, why was it only 40 degrees?

He walks into the office bundled up like a newborn baby, with a shirt, a vest, and a coat on, with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and knitted gloves on his hands.

He sits down in his desk chair with all the grace of an elephant trying to do ballet, the chair squeaking under his weight as he basically throws himself into it.

Morgan starts laughing almost immediately. “You look like you’ve just stepped out of Antarctica-”

“It’s cold,”

“It’s not that cold,”

“Those who have issues with temperature regulation are more susceptible to extreme temperature fluctuations when the weather changes,” Spencer rubs his hands together through his gloves in the hope that the kinetic energy will spread through his hands and warm the rest of his body.

“And let me guess, you’re one of those people?” Morgan raises his eyebrow with a smirk.

“Yes Morgan, I’m one of those people,” Spencer’s exasperated response is enough to send Morgan over the edge into laughter.

“Will you quiet down, it’s 8 in the morning for god’s sake,” Your arrival is announced with your usual snark, tiredness still lacing your tone as you walk around the two to reach your own desk opposite Spencer’s and pull a white beanie from your head to stuff it in the pocket of your coat.

“Sorry-”

“Not you Reid,” Despite the fact that you’re dismissing him as the recipient of your annoyance, it still sounds like you’re angry at him.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” Morgan nudges Spencer like he’s speaking to him privately, but is raised enough that he knows you’ve heard it too. “You would’ve thought she’d be elated, she’s in her element now the temperature’s dropping,”

“I can hear you.” you scoff out your words as you unpack your bag on your desk.

“Oh I know, it’s more fun when you can hear me,” Morgan takes a sip from the mug in his hands with a smirk, leaning back in his chair once he’s decided you’d endured enough of his teasing for now.

You spend the next ten or so minutes in silence as everyone sets themselves up for the day. Everyone except Spencer evidently, who is still sat with all of his outerwear on despite the office being internally heated.

“Will you stop shaking?” Spencer turns his eyes away from his frozen hands at your question, although phrased more like an instruction under your usual tone. “I can see it in my peripheral vision and it’s distracting,”

“Oh um- I’m sorry,” Spencer clutched both of his hands tight together in an attempt to forcibly stop them from shaking.

“Don’t apologise, go make yourself a cup of coffee or something, those gloves aren’t doing anything to help you,”

“Right- Yeah,” Spencer takes your advice with a nod, standing up from his desk to practically run over to the kitchenette like your word was law.

“I know what you’re doing Ice Queen,” Morgan tilts his head knowingly at you as you watch Spencer scamper around the corner and out of sight, and you don’t turn your gaze towards him even after Spencer leaves your field of vision.

“I’m not doing anything,”

“You care about Reid’s well being,” He throws a balled up post-it note in your direction, hitting you in the side of your head and acting as an incentive to look in his direction, shooting daggers at the bridge of his nose. “You can’t hide it from me sweetheart, your icy façade is melting as we speak,”

“Whatever,” You roll your eyes as you stand up from your chair, exiting the conversation with a scoff as you walk around the bullpen and disappear into the unisex bathroom.

You still haven’t returned by the time Spencer walks back to his desk with a steaming mug of coffee cradled in both hands, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly at your empty desk chair as he took his seat.

“She just went to the bathroom genius she hasn’t disappeared off the face of the earth,” Morgan laughs in amusement at Spencer’s expression, staring at your chair like his gaze will magically will you into existence.

Then his vision goes dark, and he can hear Morgan’s laughter escalate. He’s not sure exactly what’s happening at first, but as his wind-chilled ears begin to warm and his eyelashes catch on something as he tries to open his eyes he realises that his vision has been physically obstructed by something.

He pulls up on the material covering his eyes, and like a magic trick, where your chair was empty before you are now sitting in it, head lowered to hide behind the screen of your computer monitor as Morgan continues to chortle at the two of you.

It’s a quick realisation that what was previously covering his eyes was a hat, specifically the white beanie that you’d walked into the office wearing this morning.

“What did I say?” Morgan gestures outwards with his hands like he’d proved some point to you that Spencer was clearly ignorant to.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll pull out all your teeth and do it for you,”

“Ooh I’m so scared, Reid protect me from this absolute monster,” Morgan presses his hand to his chest dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a smirk etched onto his face.

Spencer doesn’t so much as spare Morgan a glance at his comment, blankly staring in your direction as his brain computes what exactly had just happened. He was wearing your hat now? You’d put your hat on his head? You’d walked over, taken your hat, and physically put it on his head?

Under normal circumstances he’s sure he’d die of embarrassment at so much as the thought of having something that personally belonged to you in his possession, let alone be actually wearing something the belonged to you and invaded his olfactory neurons with your scent.

Yet here he was, so absolutely dumbfounded by your actions that he didn’t even have the mental capacity to be embarrassed.

“Reid,” Morgan nudges his shoulder, and Spencer turns to him with wide eyes and a half-absent expression.

“Huh?”

“Wow, look what you did to him, he’s completely shut down,” Morgan throws another balled up post-it in your direction, hitting you in the shoulder this time, and you bite your tongue as you turn your head up to look at the two boys across from you once more.

Your eyes are narrowed as you glare in Morgan’s direction, but he takes no notice of it whatsoever as he gestures towards Spencer with his head, smirking all the while.

Your gaze is substantially softer once your eyes flicker over to the boy sitting opposite you. The hat really seems to complete the whole ‘just stepped out of a blizzard’ look that Spencer’s outfit seemed to radiate, and the bright red of his cheeks seemed to amplify that look tenfold.

“Are you still cold?” You ask the question like you’re annoyed at him, and he takes it as your irritation from Morgan’s constant teasing bleeding into your speech rather than you genuinely being irked by him. After all, you had gone out of your way to help him warm up right? Then again that could’ve been because you just didn’t want to watch him shiver anymore. You did say it was distracting-

“Reid.” He turns his eyes up towards you as you speak his name with all the conviction of an aggrieved high school teacher.

“Yes? I mean- Not ‘yes’ I’m cold- ‘yes’ like I’m paying attention- You know- Uh-” You hold up a hand to stop Spencer from spinning into a spiral as he tries to elaborate on what his response meant.

“You’re not cold anymore?” You keep your eyes trained on him as you ask the question, emphasising it a way that indicated you wanted a straight answer from him and not some half baked explanation of why he was/wasn’t.

“No… Well, my hands are-” Spencer stops himself prematurely with a shake of his head. “No- No I’m not cold anymore, I’m okay now,”

“Your hands are still cold?”

Spencer nods, looking down at his hands sheepishly as if they've betrayed him.

You watch Spencer's hands for a moment before making a decision. With a resigned sigh, you reach into your coat pocket and pull out a small red hand warmer, holding it out over the divide between your desks to offer it to him without a word.

Spencer's eyes widen in surprise as he takes the hand warmer from you, a sinking feeling shooting through his chest as your fingers brush his. But it wasn’t the kind he’d grown accustomed to when speaking to you.

There wasn’t a shred of intimidation or lingering insecurity, it didn’t send a chill down his spine or make him feel the need to curl into himself, it instead left a strangely comfortable warmth in it’s wake, one that was quickly proving to be more useful at warming him up than the gel packet held between his fingertips.

It was a sensation he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually felt before, and his mind couldn’t make up whether it’s origin was the temperature difference in your hands as they brushed each other and the inherent warmth of your hand graced his, or whether it was an internal situation where your silent act of consideration was literally tricking his body into believing it was warmer just as a result of your actions.

Either way, he suddenly felt very warm.

He fumbles with the warmer for a second before tugging off his gloves and snapping the small disk to start the chemical reaction. "Thanks," he murmurs, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Don't mention it," you reply, turning back to your computer screen with complete nonchalance in your tone.

Spencer nods softly at your response, rolling the packet between the palms of his hands as his eyes linger on your face even after you look away.

Spencer’s beginning to be increasingly distracted from his files by thoughts of you. Your hidden kindness, your wit, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way you chew on the end of your pen when you're concentrating, the way your nose scrunches up when you're deep in thought-

He realises, with a jolt, that he's falling for you.

It hits him like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, he's paralysed with a mix of astonishment and fear. How had he not noticed it before? He's never been good at relationships, maybe that’s why. He didn’t exactly know what constituted as real feelings for someone.

Morgan watches the exchange with a smirk, but there's something softer in his expression as he looks between the two of you, specifically towards the puddle of Spencer’s emotions showing all over his face. He clears his throat, breaking the momentary silence.

"Well, now that everyone's warm and cozy, shall we get to work?" he says, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

Spencer nods, already diving into the case file on his desk as a means of desperately trying to get the image of your face and the feeling of your fingers brushing against his hand out of his head. You follow suit, the warmth spreading through the bullpen as you all settle into your routine.

He tries to focus on the case at hand, but his mind keeps wandering back to you. He remembers the feeling of your hand brushing against his, the way his heart had fluttered in his chest at the contact. It's a feeling he can't quite shake, and he's not sure he wants to. That was the worst part.

Oh no.

[notlongtolove]

the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly. 

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s stubbornness rivals his intelligence when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway. 

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight. 

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up. 

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly. 

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite. 

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course. 

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in. 

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him. 

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite. 

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being perpetually over-prepared for every scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk. 

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him. 

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows. 

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table. 

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.” 

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again. 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that. 

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer. 

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

[hoe4hotchner]

Presents | [A.H] - Christmas 2024

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader x Jack | WC: 1.4k | CW: Christmas, fluff

A/N: Here, have a rare moment of Hotch isn't driving the car.

Read other parts here: Snow | Tree | Presents | Christmas

The cold air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped out of the car, your boots crunching softly against the thin layer of snow dusting the parking lot. Aaron followed close behind, carrying the reusable shopping bags with him, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold. The both of you were bundled up, scarves snug around your necks and gloves tucked into coat pockets. Despite the icy breeze, there was a festive warmth in the air from the scent of candied almonds, hot chocolate, and cinnamon that seemed to hum along with the holiday music spilling faintly out of nearby storefronts.

You tightened your scarf as Aaron fell into step beside you, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the crowded mall entrance.

“This is the last store, right?” he asked, his tone betraying just a hint of hopefulness as he glanced down at the neatly handwritten list in his hand.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s the last store if they have the train set Jack’s been talking about for weeks,” you replied, giving him a teasing look.

Aaron sighed, the sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, though the faint smile tugging at his lips softened the gesture. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Fine,” he said. “Lead the way.”

As you crossed the threshold into the targeted store, the warmth inside hit you. Shelves were lined with toys, decorations, and bright packages, their festive colors catching the twinkle of the overhead lights.

Jack’s gift was almost secured, provided the elusive train set made an appearance — This was your fifth store looking for that train, you were sure that every single child in Virginia wanted that specific train by now. It reminded you of the Tickle Me Elmo shortage in 1996 that you'd seen on the news.

Jessica’s gift was already wrapped and tucked under the tree at home — a scarf and a new book she’d both been eyeing the last time you went out with her and Jack. Gifts for your parents were packed and ready for shipping, and even the thoughtful little items for coworkers and friends had been crossed off.

“I’ve got everyone covered,” you muttered half to yourself, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Everyone except you.”

Aaron turned his head slightly, raising a curious brow. “Just me?”

“Just you,” you confirmed with a playful smile. “So, consider yourself special, Hotchner. You’re the only one standing between me and total Christmas shopping victory.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he swerved off toward a display of model airplanes, tilting one of the boxes to examine it.

“Think Jack would like this?” he asked, his voice almost casual, though there was a glint of genuine curiosity in his dark eyes.

You followed his gaze, taking in the intricate details of the model kit before shaking your head. “Maybe next year. Right now, all he wants is that train set.” Besides, you weren't sure he was old enough to build the set yet, convinced that Aaron would end up building everything and also would struggle — it was better to save those kids for later.

Aaron nodded, placing the box back on the shelf, and the two of you pushed on. You wove through the aisles together, scanning the shelves. The crowds had thinned slightly, but the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter reminded you of the season’s chaos.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, you spotted the train set tucked behind a stack of board games on a lower shelf — clearly, someone had tried to hide it to buy later. You crouched down quickly, grabbing it with triumph before holding it up for Aaron to see.

“Mission accomplished,” you declared after paying, grinning as you tucked the box into one of the bags he carried.

The drive home was quieter, both of you needed the quiet after the massive amount of people at the mall. The backseat was packed with gifts, some spilling out of your bags, others neatly stacked in boxes waiting to be wrapped.

Aaron reached for his phone as you turned onto your street, giving you a brief glance before dialing. “Calling Jessica,” he explained, putting the phone on speaker. “I want to make sure they’re not home yet. No sense in ruining the surprise.”

You gave him an approving nod, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel.

Jessica answered on the second ring. “Hey, Aaron. What’s up?”

“We’re on our way back,” he said. “Are you still at the park with Jack?”

“Yes, don’t worry. We’ll take the long way home if we have to,” she replied, a smile audible in her voice.

“Perfect. Thanks, Jess,” Aaron said, ending the call and turning to you with a faint smirk. “We’re clear.”

You let out a small breath of relief, your thoughts already shifting to the task ahead — wrapping those gifts and keeping everything untouched until Christmas morning.

Back at the house, you popped the trunk open, grabbed the first load of bags and headed inside with Aaron close behind. The living room quickly became a staging ground for the afternoon's operation as you carefully set the bags down, spreading the items across the floor like a battlefield. Aaron reached for one of the remaining bags, but you turned to him, holding up a firm hand.

“Absolutely not,” you said, your tone leaving no room for debate as you grabbed the rolls of wrapping paper, ribbons, and tape from one of the bags.

His brows arched in mock surprise. “Not happening?”

“Not happening,” you repeated, setting the materials down on the coffee table. “I’ve seen your idea of wrapping, Hotchner, and no offense — but functional doesn’t cut it for Christmas. We’re aiming for presentation here.”

Aaron smirked faintly, crossing his arms over his chest. “My wrapping isn’t that bad.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Your version of wrapping involves one strip of tape and a prayer. Now shoo, I’ve got this.”

He raised his hands in surrender, retreating with a smile. “Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me."

With the room finally to yourself, you got to work. You unfolded the wrapping paper, smoothing out each sheet carefully before measuring and cutting it to precise lengths. You matched the patterns on the seams, ensuring no misaligned stripes or cut-off snowflakes ruined the aesthetic. Each bow was meticulously tied, the loops full and as symmetrical as you could get them, and the ribbons curled perfectly with the edge of your scissors. Every gift received its own name tag, neatly written in your handwriting, and you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction each time a present was complete.

The hours flew by faster than you’d expected. The steady rhythm of snipping scissors and the crackle of tape being pulled from its roll was oddly soothing, but as the pile of wrapped gifts grew, so did the pressure. The clock was ticking, and you knew Jessica and Jack would be back soon.

Just as you folded the last piece of tape over a gift and tied its ribbon, you heard the crunch of tires on the driveway.

“Perfect timing,” Aaron called from the kitchen, strolling into the living room as you scrambled to tuck the final present under the tree.

Moments later, the front door opened, and Jessica stepped inside with Jack in tow. She helped him out of his coat, his cheeks pink from the cold as he waved an empty to-go cup in the air.

“I got hot chocolate!” Jack announced triumphantly before making a beeline toward Aaron.

Aaron scooped him up with ease, smiling as Jack wiggled excitedly in his arms. “You did, huh? Was it good?”

“Really good!” Jack said, his attention quickly shifting to the tree. His eyes widened as he took in the growing pile of perfectly wrapped gifts. “Are those all for Christmas?”

You crouched down, ruffling his hair with a smile. “Maybe,” you said playfully. “But you’ll have to wait and see.”

Jack gasped dramatically before running over to inspect the ornaments hanging from the lower branches. But in reality, you knew he was trying to inspect the presents and figure out which ones were for him. You were sure that if you left the room, he would shake all of them to guess the contents.

Aaron’s hand brushed yours as he stood beside you. “You weren’t kidding about the presentation,” he said, admiring the pristine packages with their artful ribbons and tidy seams.

You shot him a proud grin. “Someone had to do it.”

He chuckled, leaning in close enough for his voice to warm your ear. “Remind me to brush up on my wrapping skills next year.”

You smirked, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “Don’t bother. I’ve got it handled.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

For A While...

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader -> You were first introduced to Spencer through Emily, however, six years later, it seems some things are beginning to change.

Disclaimer: 16+ CM level violence. Descriptions of torture, death and stalking. This is part two. Part one can be accessed here. Fluff towards the end. Pining. Angst (kinda). Not proof read.

Five Months Later…

The last five months had been like agony for Spencer. 

He’s spent the last five months trying his best to figure out his feelings for you until one morning he walked into work, determined to look less like a complete confused mess as he had done for the last several days. 

His tie was still a little crooked, but his hair was neater than when he’d rolled out of bed, and his shirt wasn’t creased. And with a coffee in his hand, he was waking up a little faster than usual. Except, just as he stepped through the doors, he saw you by your desk. 

No-one was in the office yet. You’d been removing your scarf and coat, laying them on the back of your chair when he spotted you and the voice in his head said…

I love you.

He’d shocked himself. 

Of course, he had already known his feelings ran deep for you. But it was the first time the actual words had been spoken out loud, or in the very least, to himself. 

And it had been agony ever since. 

He was pretty sure he managed to hide it, though he doubted that the team didn’t at least have their suspicions. If Emily had figured it out with only a couple of days, the team had seen them both for months. 

However, Spencer was certain of one thing. 

He had it under control. 

Like he had told Emily, he didn’t want to lose you. And if that meant forever being your friend, living with a cage around his heart when he was with you that felt as if it was crushing his soul, he could happily live with that. 

Until, one day, Spencer wondered why he’d built the cage in the first place. Because as much as he was aware of the dangers both of your jobs posed, he never thought he could lose you because of that. 

The team had been flown to Oregon for a case. Four women had been killed in the town, all with a similar look, background and lifestyle. And the further you were looking into the case, it didn’t just seem to be in Oregon. The bodies trailed over the years across the country, and from what you could figure, the first had been in Virginia. 

However, the longer you all worked on the case, the more the nagging feeling in your gut grew. Something felt too familiar about the case. 

“We have to be missing something. We already know this guy stalks his victims, right. He knows what they do for work, he makes sure he knows what they’re doing at all times. He prays for the right moment when they're alone or they’re away from their general routine.” 

“If it was a bigger pattern you could say he’s picking them at random.”

“But I don’t think he is. I mean, look at how each of the victims are described.”

They were described as smart, happy, hard working. If they ever stepped out of their routine, it was because they had to. The first victim drove a little out of town because her usual restaurant she ordered from was shut. The second because she needed cabinet hinges. The third because she needed to stop for gas but there was a diversion on the road, sending her to another. 

The rest of the team continued talking but when Spencer looked over to you, you seemed…off. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go and get some coffee. You guys want some?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer knew that look on your face a little too well. You needed space. Why, he didn’t know. But he also knew it was better not to follow you. 

Except, he couldn’t help but wish he could turn back the clock and do exactly that. 

An hour later, you still hadn’t returned. 

After twenty five minutes, they figured maybe there was a long cue. After thirty five, they figured maybe they had been changing the coffee filter just as you got there. 

When you didn’t pick up your phone after an hour…they got worried. 

So, sending Derek and Spencer to the coffee shop to try and find you, Hotch, JJ, Rossi and Blake stayed behind in case it was just that they were changing the filter and there was a long cue and your phone had died. 

Except, when Spencer and Derek returned half an hour later having searched up and down the block, in every cafe, coffee shop, convenience store and gas station, they all knew something was wrong. 

“She’s not any of them. The cashier said she hadn’t even come in today.”

“That’s not good.”

From the screen, Garcia popped up. 

“Guys, I’m getting a live feed. You’re gonna want to see this, though…I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

Garcia said nothing, but her face said it all. With a couple of clicks, the feed was up on the full screen and everyone in the police department was watching it. 

“How long have you had this Garcia?”

“The alert came in only a few moments before I called you, but according to the chat room, it’s been prepared for a couple of hours, but went live about forty minutes ago. I think you should also know, I was invited to this.”

“Invited?” JJ asked. 

“Believe me, I’ve had every corner that I know of, being monitored. But apparently this is a new one.”

Everyone looked a little closer to the screen, and eventually it got a little brighter. Most likely from a light on the further wall. 

And everyone’s hearts sank. 

It was you. 

You had a gash on your head, most likely where the unsub had hit you across the head. From the look on your face as you move your body ever so slightly, it wasn’t the only place on you that was wounded. 

The camera angles kept changing, offering a different view of the room, though there wasn’t much to see other than you, beaten and bloodied, zip tied and chained to a bolted down chair. 

Then someone came into shot. 

The unsub. 

He approached you slowly, bringing with him a damp cloth, gently pressing it to your head. 

“It’s okay. Take it easy.”

You forced your eyes open, but when you were met with the reality of who it was, your face turned into shock, fear, disgust and anger. 

You jerked back, unable to move any further than you had tried before. 

“Get the hell off me.”

“It’s okay, don’t be like that.”

The unsub spoke softly to you. 

“Get away from me. Get off me.”

“You don’t have to be like this.”

Then you spotted the camera. 

“You’re filming this?”

“I thought your friends might like to see it. See how safe you are.”

“Safe?!” both yourself and Spencer asked. 

“Garcia, can you get a clear shot of the unsub?”

“No, sir. He hasn’t looked at the camera fully.”

“Then look into Y/l/n’s past. She knows him. Or, he knows her. Maybe they’ve crossed paths somewhere before.”

“Already on it, Sir.”

It would take a little longer for the team to realise your relationship to the unsub. And your connection to the victims. 

“I told you you’re safe with me, you don’t have to worry any more.”

“You kidnap me and tell me not to worry?!”

“I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Why take her though? Why follow her? It’s too risky.”

“Maybe it’s his endgame.” Spencer said out loud, the cogs turning over and over in his head. Then he moved towards the evidence board, rearranging things around where he’d written your name in a bubble. 

He needed to keep moving, proving to himself he was alive. Or else he might break more than he ever had. 

“How would you describe her?”

“Smart.” JJ began, following what Spencer was getting at. 

“Hard working.”

“A stickler for routine. She’s fixed. Doesn’t often change what she likes.”

More comparisons came out and Spencer had proven his point. 

“I’m wondering if he was her first victim. Or if she was his catalyst.”

Everyone turned back to the screen when they heard a loud strike. 

“It WAS me!”

It took you a moment before you rolled your head back up and looked from the camera to him. 

“It never was you, that was the whole point.”

“Only because you couldn’t see what I could offer you.” He pulled a chair harshly in front of you and sat down. The camera still had a clear shot of your face, but just the back of his head. 

“I saw you, a few years ago. Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“That-that-that guy! The one you think you wanted! The one you thought could offer you everything!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Another strike across the face. Then he grabbed you. 

“I saw how you looked at him. Like he was the whole world. Your whole world.”

“When even was-”

“Six years ago. I was coming out of a bar. Couple of buddies wanted me to go with them but I knew I had to find you. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be waiting for me. Instead, I found you with him. Standing outside your apartment. I didn’t wait around for the kiss.”

His name slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

“So, you remember him? You remember him? You remember him…” 

Of course you remember him. How could you not? You worked with him every single day. 

The unsub was growing more emotional. From accusatory to confusion to a sadness of acceptance. 

Then anger. 

“You remember him!? And all he had to do was walk you home?!” The unsub laughed before pausing and kicking the chair over, sending it flying into a wall. 

You jumped at his quickness and the loudness of the noises. 

“Do you know how long I have been trying to get your attention?! How long I have spent trying to show you that you have feelings for me? You might deny it, but we both know it’s true. It has been since we first met. I know you didn’t know, but I saw it in your eyes, in that kindness you showed me when no one else did. You volunteered to be my partner, remember?”

“For the…the forest run?”

“You do remember.”

The unsub got down on his knees in front of you, clutching at your jacket. 

“See, this just proves-”

“I volunteered because Sophia didn’t want to be left alone with you.”

“What?”

“I opted to take her place to make her feel safe.”

As you continued to explain, Hotch and Garcia tracked your phone numbers and social media posts until she found Sophia. 

“So you don’t feel safe with me, but you’ll feel safe with Spencer?”

“Please, don’t bring him into this.”

“Why not?”

The unsub sat back. “Why not? Go ahead, tell me. This wouldn’t happen to be the same Doctor Spencer Reid, would it?”

You tried to deny it, but no words came from your mouth. 

The unsub became deflated. 

“And let me guess, you have feelings for him…you…you even…love him. Why do I not measure up? Because I don’t work for the FBI? Because I’m not a Doctor? What is it that makes  him so much better that he earns your love?”

“Please, just-”

“It should be me! What can he give you that I can’t?”

Then he pushed the hair from your face and held it against your head, forcing you to look at him. 

“I could have given you everything. I still can. Just tell them you’re safe, and I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you, ever again.”

“Please, don’t-”

He turned to stand behind you, forcing you to look directly into the camera where the team could see the trails left behind through the blood on your cheeks, where your tears had flooded through them. 

“TELL THEM!”

“Garcia, please tell me you have something.”

“Uh, maybe, I-I don’t know. I can’t be certain.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Garcia.”

“Well, I, uh-”

“Now, Garcia.” Spencer called out, his voice oddly even and a little cold. 

“Sophia said his name was Toby-something. But I’ve looked through her files, her socials. There isn’t a single Toby, or Tobias or even Tobe.”

“Can you get a picture of him?”

“I’ve got a few, I’m running them through my database now.”

“What about Emily?” JJ asked. Everyone looked at her. “She grew up with Emily, right? Maybe she’ll know something.”

Spencer was already on the phone. 

“Emily? Emily, listen to me. Was there anyone in Y/n’s past that she had trouble with? An ex boyfriend or something in college?”

“I- Reid, is everything okay?”

“Garcia will catch you up, but please. Was there anyone she talked about? Maybe a Toby-someone?”

Suddenly, Emily’s voice turned cold. “Reid, where is she?”

“Emily?”

“Back when she was in college, she was having trouble with a guy. Everyone called him Toby but his real name Jonathan. Toby was his middle name. He seemed fixated on her and one day, she found him in her apartment on campus. She called me and I got her out. After that, he seemed to disappear, but she always was weary.”

“Okay, send all the details you can to Garcia.”

“Already happening.”

All the team could do was wait and watch, hoping something would jump out at them to help find you. 

“Do you love him?”

“I need to hear it from you. Do you love him?”

He picked up a weapon of some kind. A knife maybe. 

“No, no, I can’t watch!” Garcia called out, turning her chair away. 

A backhanded slap came across your face, the edge of the knife, cutting your cheek. 

“Do. You. Love. Him?” Toby screamed louder. 

Garcia squealed a little, hearing his arm movement. But just when she expected you to scream in pain, anyone who was listening heard what you said next. 

“YES!” you screamed, fear of what was going to come next taking over. Maybe it would have been best to lie. But he wouldn’t have accepted it. And if he was going to kill you…

Toby faltered, looking down at you in heartbroken shock. 

“Yes, yes. I do. I love him. Please…please don’t hurt me…I-”

Toby dropped the knife, the sound clattering on the floor, and he stepped back. Even from behind, they could all see the changes in his body movement. 

From shock, heartbreak, to more shock to…anger. 

And fear flashed across your face. 

“No, no, no. Please. Toby- what-what are you doing?”

He was moving around the room, gathering things. 

“Toby, please. Please don’t-”

Then the screen went dark. 

“Garcia! Please tell me you have something!”

“Almost. Hold on. Wait.”

“We can’t-”

“The footage is still running. There’s no picture or sound, but it’s still running. Maybe if I can just- I’ve got her.”

“Garcia, send us the address.”

“Already done. Please bring her back safe.”

Toby had taken you forty minutes out of town, held up in a small town shed on a small plot of land he’d rented in cash, save for the electric bill that was in his name from a month earlier. Garcia couldn’t trace the address, but she could find the closest cell tower. And with a little cross reference, she found you. 

All the team could do was hope you were still alive by the time they got to you. 

It was agonising to listen to, but your screams let them know you were still alive. And when Morgan kicked down the door, Toby turned around you, holding your body against his front. 

He’d changed you from being tied down in the chair to being strung up by your wrists. By the looks of it, however, you had managed to fight back, presumably in the small window of time you did have. 

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“No you won’t, Toby.”

“Won’t I?!”

You whimpered a little as the blade pushed further into your skin. 

“You love her, don’t you? Don’t you want to see her happy?”

“She IS happy. She’s happy with me.”

“Really, Toby? Because I wouldn’t say she looks happy. I’d say she looks scared. Terrified, even.”

“No, no, no she’s not.”

“Morgan…”

“She loves me! She has to love me!”

“But she doesn’t. And do you really think this is how she’s going to fall in love with you? By forcing her into it?”

Toby changed. 

“Doctor Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid. This is him, isn’t it? This is the one that took you from me? Maybe once I’m done with you, maybe, maybe he’ll be next.”

“No…”

“Or you can choose me. Choose me and they don’t get hurt. Choose me and-”

You jumped at the sound. 

A gunshot. 

Everything went silent and then the knife clattered to the floor once more, soon followed by Toby’s body. 

For a moment, you heard JJ’s voice coming from Derek’s wire, and then everything came back into a blurry focus. 

“Is it over? Is-is he dead?”

Reid moved closer, checking his pulse before nodding to Morgan. 

“It’s over.”

“Thank god, please get these off me.”

Spencer was closer, taking his pocket knife out before cutting your binds, allowing you to stand fully on the floor once more. 

Your arms wrapped around Spencer both out of necessity, since your legs gave way for a moment, and out of need to hug someone, anyone, who wasn’t Toby. 

In his arms, Spencer could feel your entire body shaking. So he simply held you tighter. 

“Is-is it-are you sure it’s over?”

“It’s over. Let's get you out of here.”

Spencer helped you out of the shed before walking you over to the ambulance that was pulling up behind one of the SUVs. 

“P-please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

And he did. 

Spencer stayed with you as they helped you into the ambulance and drove you to the hospital, he stayed with you as the doctors talked you through where they were taking you and what would happen and he was right there waiting for you, as you had asked, when you got out. 

And when they finally found you a room, he stayed by your side, holding your hand. 

Even hours later, you were still shaking with nerves and adrenaline. 

“Have you called Emily?” you asked after a few hours of silence. 

Spencer nodded. “She knows what happened. She’s also said she’s gonna catch the next flight out once they open the airports in London. Some storms closed the runways.”

You just nodded. 

“Hey Spencer?”

Spencer hummed. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For…for what happened. I-I don’t know how much you saw from the footage but Toby…I should have lied. I should have tried to keep your name-”

Spencer shot out of his seat and sat on your bed facing you, slowly taking the hand you used to squeeze your eyes shut from crying, into his. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s-”

“It’s okay. All I care about is that you’re safe. Emily…she already knew. She… a couple months ago, she talked to me about it…because she figured that was how I felt about you.”

“Spence, no, you don’t have to-”

“We can talk about it more, when you’re better, but I just…I need you to know, you’re not alone. And I don’t want you to be sorry for what you said. Because, even though I’m sorry for how it had to happen, I’m not sorry about what was said.”

“You…you’re not?”

Spencer shook his head, looking down at your hands in his, his thumb tracing a constant pattern over your knuckles. 

However, the familiar clicking of heels down the hall broke your intimate silence. 

“We’ll talk about it?”

You nodded.

Garcia was calling out your name before she found your room and took a look at you. 

“Oh, thank god.”

“Penelope,” you smiled. 

And Spencer smiled, too. For the first time in the last week, let alone the last twenty four hours, you smiled. Genuinely smiled.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. If I-”

“It’s okay. You still found me. I’m okay.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again. And Emily will be here soon so it won’t just be me, you’ll have both of us. Maybe we can live like the Golden Girls.”

You struggled to laugh, but laughed all the same. “I’d like that.”

“Good, because you don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll give you two some space to plan your move,” Spencer smiled. 

You smiled softly back at him as he slowly walked out of the room, but not before Penelope called his name. “Bring her back some jello! Orange, if they have it!”

Spencer nodded, however he didn’t need telling why orange. It was your favourite. 

“How do you know that’s my favourite?”

“Emily told me.”

You smiled. There had been a week back in middle school when all you could stomach was orange jello. You’d have thought that after being sick for a week, you’d never want to eat it again. But that never happened. 

The doctors kept you in hospital for the next couple of days whilst the rest of the team helped finish the last couple of cases at the police department. 

When you were finally cleared to fly, Hotch and Emily were the ones to help you with your things. 

Hotch explained what would happen when you all got back to the Bureau and what would happen with yourself and your job. 

“I know you’ll be itching to get back to work, but I want you to take some time off.”

“I will. I promise.”

By the time you got to the jet, you weren’t up in the air an hour before you excused yourself from Rossi’s story time to sit by the one person who brought you the most peace. 

“Mind if I sit here?”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, making space for you beside him on the sofa. 

“Do you want to sleep?”

“What are you reading?”

He showed you. 

“Wizard of Oz.”

“Want me to read it to you? Studies have shown it helps with sleep.”

“I’d like that.”

Within twenty minutes, you were fast asleep against Spencer’s chest. He’s turned himself so you could lean against him and see the small pictures that had been drawn, as he read. 

And thankfully, Rossi’s stories kept everyone distracted long enough for yourself and Spencer to not experience the embarrassment of getting caught in such a compromising position, considering you were both just meant to be friends.

A week later…

Yourself and Spencer had seen Emily off in the Airport, and after that, Spencer had driven you home. You’d stopped off for some chinese food on the way back, and even though you’d both had…half conversations about what you’d said in the hospital, neither of you had come right out and said, well, anything. 

Until you stopped in your tracks, forcing Spencer to do the same. 

“Is everything-”

“I feel I need to confess something.”

“Do you need a church or-”

“It’s not that kind of confession.” you turned to face Spencer fully. 

In two weeks time, you’d be going back to work. And you couldn’t take another two weeks, plus additional ones of whatever the awkward…thing was between you both. Like you each knew each other's secret, but didn’t know its full whereabouts. 

“I love you,” you told him, finally. “I know it seemed forced, but it was the truth nonetheless. I love you. I am in love with you and…I don’t know what to do about it. Because, first and foremost, you’re my friend. And no matter what, I don’t want to lose what we have. I love you, but most of all I like you. I like being around you. I like listening to you talk about different books and music and the fact that whales can produce sounds up to 188 decibels. I-”

“I love you, too.”

That forced you to stop. And Spencer could see your eyes searching for an explanation. 

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is that one day I just…breathed for the first time. That I saw you and knew that if I stopped, I might die.”

“Sounds a little dramatic.”

Spencer laughed a little. “I guess it does. But it’s true. I’m in love with you. And I like you, too.”

You smiled. 

“You know, I had a crush on you for the longest time.”

“Really? How long?”

Part of it baffled Spencer that you had perhaps had feelings for him longer than he did you, but most of all it baffled him how he hadn’t noticed. 

“For a while…”

With a smile, you felt yourself leaning into Spencer. And he felt himself do the same thing until finally your lips met his. 

The kiss was gentle at first, but became a little more searing as his hand gently brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear, and pulled you a little closer. 

And you both just stood there for a while, pressed against each other, allowing each kiss to let you both know it was, in fact, very real. 

[violetrainbow412-blog]

hello!! how about something with spencer about christmas? 🎄🎄🎄

Lovely Christmas 🎄 [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: the entire team gets together to celebrate Christmas and Spencer gives you a pleasant surprise.

note: merry next Christmas everyone! I hope you like it:)

Christmas, time to celebrate, give and receive. All that advertising in the stores worked to the point that you really felt a certain warmth on the holiday, despite the low degrees of the Virginia climate.

The team members, at Penelope's initiative, had agreed to have a small meeting to celebrate Christmas Eve this year, due to the uncertainty of not knowing how many Christmases you had left as a team because of everything chaotic that had happened lately. Mainly also because you had never celebrated that date together.

Everyone was there, the little ones, the older ones, some old members of the team, the new ones, husbands, wives, friends... in short, it was a big party. Of course Dave had offered his house to host the event and you, without complaint, had agreed. He had probably hired someone to do it, but the house was decorated masterfully, with lights, trees, Christmas boots, a life-size dancing Santa and even the white snow bathing the entire patio that could be seen from the glass doors. That's why Rossi couldn't be prouder, being the best of hosts as he always was.

You were euphoric about everything and you didn't even know where you should start enjoying. On the one hand, there was the opportunity to talk to friends from work that I hadn't seen in years, on the other hand, you could spend time with the kids and hug little baby Morgan, and last but not least, you could drink punch and hot chocolate in the company of the group that had gathered in that area. You decided on that option and very soon you were chatting friendly with Aaron and Emily.

“Jack wants a video game console for Christmas and I told him that only if he behaved well Santa could bring it, although I have a feeling that only one of us is pretending that he exists” he was telling you, laughing, when suddenly someone interrupted him.

“Jeez, it's freezing outside,” the voice, quite familiar to you, complained.

It was Spencer, who had just arrived with rosy cheeks, snowflakes scattered in his hair, his purple scarf and an ugly sweater that had gingerbread men all over it. He looked simply adorable.

“Reid!” you said happily, walking over to give him a hug which he gladly reciprocated. “Do you want me to serve you a cup of chocolate?”

“Oh, I would love you even more if you did that,” he replied, grinning at you from ear to ear with those gorgeous white teeth.

Being with all your friends makes you very happy, but there is one friend in particular who completely lights up your world. That's Spencer, and he was doing it right then.

“Here you go, handsome,” you murmured playfully, while you placed a full cup between his recently ungloved hands. He sighed as he took a sip of the drink and looked at you gratefully.

He joined in without any difficulty and soon the two of you were laughing at the story Emily was telling you, close enough to each other to be considered friendly. That's how it was always with him, despite his obvious fear of germs, he didn't mind being around you, much less when you laughed and leaned against his side a little or when you were telling a story and you constantly touched him. It felt natural to him, only when it came to you.

Rossi served turkey for all of you, one that you knew he had prepared because of the peculiar flavor and Italian ingredients. You had sat in front of Spencer and thanks to that you could see all his expressions during dinner, which were pure happiness. Seeing him happy made you happy too, as if you were infected with a delicious disease.

And suddenly you found yourself staring at him for too long and making jokes just to make him smile, as if he was the only one there with you.

During dinner you shared anecdotes, as always, Penny handed out candy to children and adults, the former members talked about how their new job was going and among all that it very soon became almost midnight.

Some sadness and surprise-filled your chest when Spencer announced that he would be the first to leave.

“I'm going to visit my mom,” he had explained, because you remembered that Diana was now in a health center that was only an hour away. No one dared to hold him back when they found out his reason and there were only a few goodbye hugs.

However, you told the man that you would walk him to the door and as you did so you pulled one of the bags on the floor with you. You stopped under the door frame, which could be seen from the small living room where the group had moved after dinner, and then you spoke.

“Drive carefully, okay?” was the first thing you said, lovingly adjusting the scarf that he was wearing around his neck. “And call me when you get there.”

“I will do it, calm down”

“Before you go, I want to give you something,” you murmured softly. You took out two decorated packages from your bag, one purple and the other pink “One is for you and the other is for your mother. Wish her a Merry Christmas from me”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding touched by what you were offering him. It was clear that what he had in his hands were books and he felt a tug in his heart when he thought that you had gotten one for his mother “I didn't bring you anything, I'm so sorry.”

“That doesn't matter, Spence,” you responded affectionately “It's just a detail, but I hope you like it.”

The man was about to respond when a whistle caught the attention of both of you and when you looked in the direction of the room you noticed that everyone had their eyes on you.

“Tough luck, lovebirds,” Morgan laughed and for a second you didn't understand what was funny about it. But when he pointed his finger at a spot above your head, then you understood.

There was mistletoe there, and you and Spencer were right under it.

“It's tradition,” Rossi began to say, when if he knew that you would refuse, “You can't break it”

“Did you know that the meaning of mistletoe can be found in the culture of the Celts? According to some stories, the druids used it in their spells and even to resurrect the dead, according to some legends of which we have evidence and records in different sources. Furthermore, magical powers are attributed to the plant because it doesn’t come from the sky or the earth, since the roots are neither in the ground nor held in the air: the mistletoe is maintained thanks to the deciduous tree that it parasitizes”

You giggled childishly as you listened to Spencer speak, probably to calm your nerves at the thought of having to kiss him, and he didn't even notice because he was so excited to share that bit of knowledge he had for the occasion.

“And that's why you have to kiss her, Reid! Legend says that if a woman is kissed under the mistletoe, she will be able to find the love of her life. And who knows, maybe our poor Y/N already needs some luck in that area”

You wanted to kill JJ for saying that, but at the same time you couldn't think about anything but what he would do. You didn't even know if he would dare to kiss you in front of all your coworkers and you wouldn't blame him if he didn't, after all you were just friends.

"Would it bother you?" he asked quietly. He didn't look the least bit nervous and that really made you nervous.

“Do you really want to kiss me?”

“Well, it's tradition,” he murmured, shrugging, while he smiled at you calmly. Apparently this hadn't affected him like it did you.

“Okay, then it’s… it’s okay.”

You would have liked to say the words more calmly, but you couldn't, and the little confidence you had left disappeared when Spencer raised one of his hands to cup your cheek and planted a kiss on your lips. It was a gentle kiss, sweet and short, but it made you shiver completely.

Honestly, no one expected you two to actually kiss, that's why when he pulled away from you the whole room was completely silent. You were shocked, they were shocked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said, carefully caressing the skin of your face with his hand that was still holding it.

You made a superhuman effort to find your voice.

"Merry Christmas too"

He gave you one last caress and then said goodbye to the rest, waving his hand happily; they responded a little less enthusiastically, probably due to astonishment. The door closed, but you stood, staring into space as you tried to process what had just happened.

“Someone help the poor woman, it looks like she is going to have a heart attack”

Nobody, absolutely nobody, expected a comment like that coming from Aaron Hotchner and perhaps that was what made the moment a thousand times funnier.

“Did Reid really kiss you? I hope we aren’t experiencing a collective hallucination.”

“He didn't even hesitate! That's my boy"

“Everyone shut up,” you said finally, feeling all your blood pooling in your cheeks as you walked back to the living room “I don't think any of you want to be knocked out by a federal agent on Christmas Eve”

They laughed and eventually so did you. Reid wrote you a message when he arrived with his mother and you smiled as you remembered the kiss he had given you, the one that, without a doubt just as the legend said, led you to find the love of your life.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[joeyalohadream]

WIP/Last Line Tag

Thanks for the tags @rangerelizabeth , @swifty-fox and @onyxsboxes. Been tagged in a few different games recently and so I figured I'd share a little bit of a modern au, Christmas fic I've been keeping close to the vest.

----

“This section here,” he continues, and John follows the line his gloved hand points towards, taking in the lines of trees that look like something he’d see in a town square, a mall maybe. “These are all mature Balsam Firs. They’re probably the most popular but they’re not cheap.”

John hums, nodding along but staying otherwise silent. If this man thinks hearing the names of the trees is going to help him, he’s wrong, but John would listen to that voice all day so he’ll let him continue unhelpfully.

“I’ve got a grove of Fraisers just beyond the Balsams,” Gale gestures again and John smiles at the concentrated look of focus on the other man’s face. “Douglas and White Firs too at the back of the property.”

Gale raises an eyebrow at him and John makes his face flatten out, turn introspective, considering, but still offers no help.

“If you’re looked for a pine instead,” Gale seems to take pity on him, “I’ve got Virginia and Scotch. Even have some Blue Spruce and-”

“Wait,” John interrupts him, grinning now. He looks down at the Husky sitting patiently at Gale’s feet. “Blue Spruce? Douglas Fir?” Gale crosses his arms and his posture stiffens, going to defensive. John’s grin widens. “Virgina Pine?”

“What?”

“You name your dogs after trees, Buck?”

“Her eyes are blue.” He watches as Gale’s gloved fingers start absently scratching the top of Blue’s head. Her tongue lolls out in pleasure when he starts pulling her perky ear between his thumb and pointer.

“Right,” John nods, and then it’s his turn to gesture and he points over to the two German Shepherds sitting at the back of the coffee cart, waiting for a treat. “You pick up those two in Virginia from a guy named Douglas?”

“I’ve got a cat at the house named Bailey,” Gale tells him around a frown, the tips of his ears red and John doesn’t think it’s from the cold. “No Bailey pine or fir or spruce out here.”

“Bailey, huh?” John hums, still grinning as Gale’s eyes narrow at him. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” He laughs when Gale rolls his eyes, but the embarrassed flush goes down the part of his neck that isn’t covered by his ridiculous blue scarf. “You got Clarence, Bert and Ernie running around here somewhere?”

I feel like all of these have been going around, so apologies if you've already shared! But NP tagging @happy-days19 , @blixabargelds , @feyd-meowtha and @reallylilyreally

[virginiablossoms]

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[rebelliousstories]

Snowman

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1,456

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: Snowfall means that Spencer can not go into work today. With the roads closed, what is a girlfriend to do?

Consider Donating: Here

P. Miller said, “With every falling flake, a unique spark of interest falls from heaven.”

It was always a gamble as to whether or not she would have her boyfriend home for the holidays through out the year. He had been in Chicago on Halloween. His birthday was spent in El Paso. For her birthday, Spencer was all the way in Seattle. The Fourth of July, Easter, and Thanksgiving were, you guessed it, spent away from home. They did manage to do a breakfast date on Valentine’s date because he was in the middle of working on a case, and could not spare a moment longer than that.

But when it has been a paperwork week, coupled by ice on the roads to the point that even driving was out of the question, and a federal holiday? Well, this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. Someone might have thought that today was Christmas by how excited her boyfriend was dragging her out of their apartment. She barely had a moment to fasten her coat and gloves before Spencer was dragging her out into the snow that had fallen.

It was a rare snowy day that had come for them. These kinds of heavy snowfall days were not common for Virginia, but you best believe that they were going to take advantage of it.

“Come on, darling! Let’s go!” Spencer nearly tripped over his own feet running towards the white ice that coated the ground.

“Would you at least let me get my laces done, please? You don’t even have your scarf on, honey.” She tried to follow closely, but that man decided to use his long limbs to his advantage today.

Chuckling, she watched as Spencer decided to finally lay down on the ground. He began to laugh the longer he stayed there, and even more so when his girlfriend stood above him. His wild curls fanned out around his head like a halo, while his smile beamed ear to ear.

“Are you having fun yet, honey?” The edges of his scarf dangled just over his coat covered torso from where it rested in her hands. Spencer grabbed her legs and brought her down with him into the freezing cold below.

“Now, I am,” he replied, rubbing his hands over her thighs. Sitting up, he brought her up with him, and let her wrap his scarf around his neck. They sat in the snow for a moment longer, before she stood abruptly.

“Maybe you can sit there in the cold, but I can’t.” Her hands were trying to be warmed with her breath, but it had a difficult time of getting through the leather covering them.

The man got up a second later and wrapped her in his arms and his coat as much as he could. Before long, they were running around and genuinely having a great time together. Snowballs were flying, snow angels were being made, but there was one thing that Reid was hesitant on bringing up. When they took their next pause, she saw that apprehensive look on his face. That look that said, “I want to say something, but I am afraid of what it is going to do for us.”

“Honey, what’s bouncing around that big, beautiful brain of yours?” The man in question kept his eyes to the ground as he chewed on his lips. “Spence? Spencer?”

“Could you um…” he stammered, “could you help me make a sn- a snowman? Please?”

He looked like a kicked puppy for a minute while he waited for his answer. Her heart swelled as she looked at her boyfriend. This man had three PHD’s, two BFA’s, was a renowned profiler working with the best team in the world; and he was asking for help on how to build a snowman?

“Oh, Spence. Yeah, we can build a snowman.” Cupping his rosy cheeks in her hands, she brought his gaze up to meet hers. Once he got the confirmation he was looking for, Reid surged forward and captured her lips with his. It was not until she pushed him off that he finally relented and let her enough room, and air, to speak.

“Do you want decorations for it? We can go get some now if you’d like?”

“I just wanna build one now. We can find decorations around here, I think.”

Thus began the building. While he knew how to technically make it, he had never actually built one. Snow days like this one rarely happened in Virginia, and that the last thing on his mind when he had cases in wintery environments. Besides, it was not like he could have done so in Las Vegas. Maybe could have built a sandman but that just does not have the same feelings attached to it.

They spent so long on just the base. Making sure it was perfect and round before they placed anymore on top. Of course, while they were making it, Spencer was being Spencer and was happily rattling off random facts about the history of snowmen.

“Did you know that the earliest recorded instance of a snowman is in a Dutch book from 1380? Although, some historians and archeologists debate as to whether or not ancient peoples made them too.”

“There’s a holiday called Sechseläuten that’s celebrated in Zurich, Switzerland. Every third Monday of April since 1818, a cotton snowman is stuffed with dynamite and paraded through town. It’s called the Böögg, and at the end of the parade they set him atop a 400 feet tall pile of scrap wood where they set it ablaze. It helps mark the beginning of spring for them.”

“During the Middle Ages, when craftsmen couldn’t work with their given tools for various reasons, they would turn to the copious amounts of snow outside to sculpt and build with. It is from this that we got snowmen as a festive winter tradition.”

Through it all, ever once did she attempt to silence him. In fact, she liked listening to all of his little tidbits of information. The man was a vast encyclopedia of knowledge that she was honored to be around more often than not.

In lieu of coal for the eyes or buttons, various rocks were placed. Their snowman got a set of traditional stick arms. All they were missing was a nose. Reid did not want to give another rock on his face, nor did he think that a branch would be appropriate. He scoured the field around them to try and find something that they could use instead. When he could not find anything, his lips turned down and pouted a bit before looking towards their new friend.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to his girlfriend who was now holding something in her gloved hands. A canary yellow flower rested between her index finger and thumb as she presented it to him. With a confused tilt, Spencer looked towards his girlfriend.

“Where did you find that?”

“Over by the curb. Probably the last one of the season. Maybe this would be okay? In place of our carrot?” She offered the flower to him, and a larger smile graced her features as he took it from her gloved hands.

Spencer worked for a minute on getting the stem inside of the compacted snow. It took a bit of work, but eventually he made it happen. Once it was placed inside, he took a few steps back, and opened his arms for her to snuggle up to him.

As they stood there, looking at their creation, a serene calm flowed over the couple. This was exactly what Spencer had hoped this would be like. His cheek rested on the crown of her head, while his arms wrapped tighter around her body. Her arms were doing the exact same thing as she nuzzled into his chest.

“Thank you, darling,” came a whisper that was nearly drowned out by the wind that had begun to pick up.

“You’re welcome, honey. I hope this made you happy.” The man pulled away just a bit to look at his girlfriend’s face that was now just as rosy as his.

“More than you know,” and he leaned down to finish that statement off with a sweet kiss.

At that point, the wind managed to sneak underneath her coat, causing a violent shiver to pass over her. With a chuckle, Reid began to lead her back inside to warm up again. However, before they left completely, he did have her get a picture of them with their first snowman on her phone. Eventually, he would get around to printing it out so that he could have that memory for years to come.

It was always a gamble as to whether or not she would have her boyfriend home for the holidays through out the year. He had been in Chicago on Halloween. His birthday was spent in El Paso. For her birthday, Spencer was all the way in Seattle. The Fourth of July, Easter, and Thanksgiving were, you guessed it, spent away from home. They did manage to do a breakfast date on Valentine’s date because he was in the middle of working on a case, and could not spare a moment longer than that.

But when it has been a paperwork week, coupled by ice on the roads to the point that even driving was out of the question, and a federal holiday? Well, this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. Someone might have thought that today was Christmas by how excited her boyfriend was dragging her out of their apartment. She barely had a moment to fasten her coat and gloves before Spencer was dragging her out into the snow that had fallen.

It was a rare snowy day that had come for them. These kinds of heavy snowfall days were not common for Virginia, but you best believe that they were going to take advantage of it.

“Come on, darling! Let’s go!” Spencer nearly tripped over his own feet running towards the white ice that coated the ground.

“Would you at least let me get my laces done, please? You don’t even have your scarf on, honey.” She tried to follow closely, but that man decided to use his long limbs to his advantage today.

Chuckling, she watched as Spencer decided to finally lay down on the ground. He began to laugh the longer he stayed there, and even more so when his girlfriend stood above him. His wild curls fanned out around his head like a halo, while his smile beamed ear to ear.

“Are you having fun yet, honey?” The edges of his scarf dangled just over his coat covered torso from where it rested in her hands. Spencer grabbed her legs and brought her down with him into the freezing cold below.

“Now, I am,” he replied, rubbing his hands over her thighs. Sitting up, he brought her up with him, and let her wrap his scarf around his neck. They sat in the snow for a moment longer, before she stood abruptly.

“Maybe you can sit there in the cold, but I can’t.” Her hands were trying to be warmed with her breath, but it had a difficult time of getting through the leather covering them.

The man got up a second later and wrapped her in his arms and his coat as much as he could. Before long, they were running around and genuinely having a great time together. Snowballs were flying, snow angels were being made, but there was one thing that Reid was hesitant on bringing up. When they took their next pause, she saw that apprehensive look on his face. That look that said, “I want to say something, but I am afraid of what it is going to do for us.”

“Honey, what’s bouncing around that big, beautiful brain of yours?” The man in question kept his eyes to the ground as he chewed on his lips. “Spence? Spencer?”

“Could you um…” he stammered, “could you help me make a sn- a snowman? Please?”

He looked like a kicked puppy for a minute while he waited for his answer. Her heart swelled as she looked at her boyfriend. This man had three PHD’s, two BFA’s, was a renowned profiler working with the best team in the world; and he was asking for help on how to build a snowman?

“Oh, Spence. Yeah, we can build a snowman.” Cupping his rosy cheeks in her hands, she brought his gaze up to meet hers. Once he got the confirmation he was looking for, Reid surged forward and captured her lips with his. It was not until she pushed him off that he finally relented and let her enough room, and air, to speak.

“Do you want decorations for it? We can go get some now if you’d like?”

“I just wanna build one now. We can find decorations around here, I think.”

Thus began the building. While he knew how to technically make it, he had never actually built one. Snow days like this one rarely happened in Virginia, and that the last thing on his mind when he had cases in wintery environments. Besides, it was not like he could have done so in Las Vegas. Maybe could have built a sandman but that just does not have the same feelings attached to it.

They spent so long on just the base. Making sure it was perfect and round before they placed anymore on top. Of course, while they were making it, Spencer was being Spencer and was happily rattling off random facts about the history of snowmen.

“Did you know that the earliest recorded instance of a snowman is in a Dutch book from 1380? Although, some historians and archeologists debate as to whether or not ancient peoples made them too.”

“There’s a holiday called Sechseläuten that’s celebrated in Zurich, Switzerland. Every third Monday of April since 1818, a cotton snowman is stuffed with dynamite and paraded through town. It’s called the Böögg, and at the end of the parade they set him atop a 400 feet tall pile of scrap wood where they set it ablaze. It helps mark the beginning of spring for them.”

“During the Middle Ages, when craftsmen couldn’t work with their given tools for various reasons, they would turn to the copious amounts of snow outside to sculpt and build with. It is from this that we got snowmen as a festive winter tradition.”

Through it all, ever once did she attempt to silence him. In fact, she liked listening to all of his little tidbits of information. The man was a vast encyclopedia of knowledge that she was honored to be around more often than not.

In lieu of coal for the eyes or buttons, various rocks were placed. Their snowman got a set of traditional stick arms. All they were missing was a nose. Reid did not want to give another rock on his face, nor did he think that a branch would be appropriate. He scoured the field around them to try and find something that they could use instead. When he could not find anything, his lips turned down and pouted a bit before looking towards their new friend.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to his girlfriend who was now holding something in her gloved hands. A canary yellow flower rested between her index finger and thumb as she presented it to him. With a confused tilt, Spencer looked towards his girlfriend.

“Where did you find that?”

“Over by the curb. Probably the last one of the season. Maybe this would be okay? In place of our carrot?” She offered the flower to him, and a larger smile graced her features as he took it from her gloved hands.

Spencer worked for a minute on getting the stem inside of the compacted snow. It took a bit of work, but eventually he made it happen. Once it was placed inside, he took a few steps back, and opened his arms for her to snuggle up to him.

As they stood there, looking at their creation, a serene calm flowed over the couple. This was exactly what Spencer had hoped this would be like. His cheek rested on the crown of her head, while his arms wrapped tighter around her body. Her arms were doing the exact same thing as she nuzzled into his chest.

“Thank you, darling,” came a whisper that was nearly drowned out by the wind that had begun to pick up.

“You’re welcome, honey. I hope this made you happy.” The man pulled away just a bit to look at his girlfriend’s face that was now just as rosy as his.

“More than you know,” and he leaned down to finish that statement off with a sweet kiss.

At that point, the wind managed to sneak underneath her coat, causing a violent shiver to pass over her. With a chuckle, Reid began to lead her back inside to warm up again. However, before they left completely, he did have her get a picture of them with their first snowman on her phone. Eventually, he would get around to printing it out so that he could have that memory for years to come.

[sunflowersunite]

Death's Embrace

my contribution to @emweek Day 1: Angel in Disguise!

one of the prompts of the day was "art appropriation" and recently I'd seen a post claiming "you know the ship is good when they have a fanart based on the paolo e virginia statue"

(it's this one btw)

so there you have it, Eremika based on the "Paul and Virginia" sculpture by Alessandro Puttinati! Enjoy!

Eren knew he'd find his way back to her. It's just that he hadn't imagined it would be like this, bleeding out onto the snow. It doesn't matter who did it to him, not if he had a chance to see her again. Mikasa towered over him as beautiful as he remembered her to be. Intangible and sublime, save for the scarf around her neck --his scarf. Eren clutched her waist, tears in his eyes. "Mikasa". He rasped out her name like an elegy. "Eren." She was welcoming him home.

[blacklitchick]

Found a WIP from 2017 that I abandoned. Don't quite remember where I was going with this, but I kinda love this excerpt:

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

Waking up alone was hard to get used to.

The quiet in the mornings was the hardest to get used to.

Summer mornings were always Michonne’s favorite - sleeping with the windows open as warm Virginia breeze ruffled the curtains, and the sun kissed their naked skin - his arm around her waist, the deep breathing of his slumber in her ear. Sunrise was always before 7:00 am. Michonne could tell you the exact time because she was usually awake watching the shadows in the bedroom turn to light. In her old life, she’d be up before the first hint of rays crept into the sky. Eagerness to start her day made lingering in bed hardly ever an option.

Having children further cemented her desire to rise early. Only one person could convince her to have a lazy morning in bed. Her husband was more persuasive than any lawyer she ever faced in court; five more minutes turned into fifteen and then an hour. Michonne’s lips upturned into a sad smile. His kissable pout was hard to resist. She ran her hand over his cool, empty side of the bed. There was no need to convince her to stay in bed that morning. The day had been in the planning stages for weeks. Now that it was here, the dread had settled in her stomach. Hiding away rather than dealing with the warring emotions in her heart sounded like the better option - though not viable. It couldn’t be done without her. The thin sheet fell to the side as she sat up. One more look was given to his side of the bed before she swung her feet to the floor.

Age hadn’t taken away her spryness. Her body was nearly as lean and muscled as it was when their family first walked through the gates of Alexandria twenty years earlier. Her perfect complexion was still wrinkle-free. Rick’s favorite morning routine was to kiss every inch of her body to bask in the smoothness of her skin. His chuckle would vibrate through her body when she parroted her grandmother’s words, Black don’t crack. The bags under each eye were a new development. Tears mixed with lack of sleep had taken a toll. Avoiding the shock of grief from waking up alone was preferable to any rest she may have needed.

Their shower was the smallest in the house, but the two always fit in there with no room to spare. He never let too much space get in between their bodies. But now it felt too big for one person. The warm water felt good against her skin but did nothing to wash away the ache in her heart. It was always here when she let herself cry - big, ugly sobs from deep in her gut. Her body would slide to the floor as trembles shook her to the core. She hugged her knees until the water pouring from above turned cold. She wouldn’t let her pain manifest any other time of the day. The grief in the house wasn’t hers alone. There were others she needed to be strong for.

Between the crying and the steam, her eyes were a light hue of red. She rinsed her face with cold water, trying to fade the color back to white. After patting her face dry, she slid off her multi-colored scarf. The hair underneath was arranged in neat twists. Over the years, she’d cut and grew her locs back twice. Now, she wore her natural hair in a simple afro puff.

Rick always told her she could make any color look good, but yellow was his favorite. She’d slipped on a sunny wrap skirt and paired it with a white tank top. Fully dressed, she sat at the foot of the bed and breathed in and out.

[alburnusgecko]

So! The rest of the christmas presents!

@intern-ko I set up a sort of snack room for you! Well, it was originally going to just be a rat breeding facility I would manage so that you didn't have to catch random rats running around the facility and get rat poisoned again but it kind of spiraled from there ^_^ You didn't really seem to like it the first time I showed it to you though so you don't have to worry about it if you don't want to use it! And I also got you a scarf that looks like a leech :3

@doctor-hydro-s-waterbottle I made you a friendship bracelet! It definitely took a while, and I messed it up a few times but I think it turned out well enough!

Also I got a handgun for Darling, custom made to her size. And I got Orpheus a pirate hat and tiny sword because I thought it would be badass :)

@greenshadowsinthesky I got you two some things for your new room, including a comforter, a lava lamp, fairy lights, and ceiling stars!

@dr-not-a-fish I got you one of those big batch mixers, stole it from a bakery ^_^ it's just in the cafeteria kitchen right now, I can move it to your lab if you want! Also I got you an apron with a fox on it!

@gh0kiaha I got you a bone saw! You can use it for torture and other evil deeds!

@rebootgrimm [forgot dr grimms blog name sorry] I got you a tissue sample from the mothman (not our colleague, the one from West Virginia) can't tell you how but I will say it was VERY difficult ^_^

[reiding-writing]

I feel bad for sending one request after another but like okay hear me out, Spencer is cold and it's very obvious that his skinny ass purple scarf doesnt do much, so reader lends him theirs and he gets really flustered because it smells like them 😭

scented scarves [ s.r ]

Summary:

Vegas was a pretty warm city even in the winter, a stark contrast to Quantico’s freezing temperature. Needless to say, Spencer wasn’t fairing very well in the cold, and your offer of your scarf leaves him flustered and mildly overwhelmed.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid × gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: this one’s pretty short but i hope it suffices nonetheless!

thank you for the request, you’re welcome to send as many as you want <33

It was -2 degrees celsius. 28 degrees fahrenheit.

In other words, absolutely fucking freezing.

The joys of living in Virginia.

It was blatantly obvious which of your team members were acclimated to the colder climates, or more accurately, who wasn’t.

Anyone who walked into your office, profiler or otherwise, would be able to tell.

Garcia was wrapped up in a chunky knitted sweater, a pair of thick tights under her skirt as she padded across the bullpen back to her tech dungeon with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

Prentiss was wearing a shirt and a sweater, her hands held out in front of a mini heater on the top of her desk in a desperate attempt to warm up her extremities so the rest of her body would follow suit.

And Spencer…

Spencer was sat cross legged in his chair with two pairs of socks on, a knitted vest over his shirt and a cardigan over his vest, his signature purple scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his chin as his hands gripped his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from turning into a human icicle.

Poor Spencer Reid. Vegas really didn’t serve him well when it came to Quantico winters.

If his trembles weren’t so adorably funny you’re sure you’d feel bad for the boy, but instead you’re muffling a laugh as you walk across the bullpen to sit at your desk beside him, disposing of your bag under the table and unfurling your chunky knitted scarf from your neck to drape over the back of your chair.

One of the pros of being born and bred in Virginia is that you didn’t have to worry about freezing from the inside out.

Spencer’s eyes follow you as you take your seat, and you swear you can see him shudder when you remove your scarf, as if you removing a layer of warmth made him colder.

“You good over there?” You can’t help the amusement painting your face as Spencer stares at you like you’ve got a second head.

“How are you not freezing?” Spencer’s tone carries genuine bewilderment as his eyes scan what you’re wearing, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt, alongside a semi formal blazer that you also shed to lie over your chair.

“It’s climate acclimation Spence, you of all people should know that,”

His expression doesn’t change at your answer, continuing to blankly stare at you like some foreign species that had just invaded the earth. “I know that- logically… But still i’m literally shaking from how cold it is,”

“That’s what happens when you’re a Vegas baby who moves to Virginia,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as Spencer huffs, taking another sip of his hot coffee in attempt to regulate his body temperature back to something warmer, tucking the narrow purple strips of thin-knitted fabric under his chin to expose his mouth to the mug.

“That scarf isn’t going to do you very much you know, it’s basically a glorified fashion piece,” You weren’t trying to knock on Spencer’s scarf by any means, it’d become a staple of his office wear, one that you definitely weren’t complaining about, but in weather like this it wasn’t really doing him any favours.

“I know…” Spencer sighs at his own intolerance to cold weather.

You’d think having worked in Quantico for half a decade would have stopped him from turning into a human icicle the minute the temperature dropped into the negatives, but no, of course it didn’t. Of course he continued to feel like he was sat in a bathtub full of ice despite having four layers on. Of course he did.

You push your chair back from your desk, the noise of it’s friction against the cheap carpeting of the floor drawing Spencer’s eyes to you once more, and to you bring yourself to your feet and pull your scarf from under your blazer with a small amount of struggle before walking over to him, the scarf stretched out between your two hands.

Spencer doesn’t have the time to question what you’re doing before your scarf is wrapped around his neck, immediately engulfing him in a cocoon of extra heat that his own scarf failed to provide.

He didn’t have time to thank you either, as you departed with a ruffle of your hand in his hair towards the kitchenette to fix yourself a coffee.

At first he’s confused.

Then he’s warm.

And then the lingering scent embedded in the yarn hits his nose and he flushes a bright pink, thankfully hidden under the knit.

Of course it would smell like you. It was your scarf. Your cells would cling to the yarn as you wore it and leave a permanent trace of you behind.

But it smelled like you. And any lingering molecules of coffee in his sensory neurons were immediately overridden with your scent instead.

Any conscious sense of being cold had left his body. His trembling had seemingly stopped, his brain too focused on your scent invading his nose and making him feel fuzzy inside.

You returned with your cup of coffee soon after, Spencer still coming to terms with his reality as you take your seat again. “You look much warmer now,”

You half insinuate the flush on his cheeks, although he’s unsure if you recognise the origin behind it or if you genuinely just believe that your scarf has helped insulate his neck and warm up his face. Which it had, but not as much as your scent had done.

Spencer’s normally sharp mind stumbled over words, and he couldn't help but fidget with the ends of the scarf as he tried to formulate a response.

"Yeah… thanks," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

His reaction brought a soft smile to your face, alongside a small chuckle at his seeming inability to form a full sentence. "You're welcome Spencer, but it's just a scarf,”

But for Spencer, it was more than that, it was a tangible connection to you. The combination of your proximity and the familiar fragrance leaving him pleasantly flustered and mildly overstimulated.

As the day unfolded, the team couldn't help but notice the change in Spencer's demeanour. Teasing remarks were exchanged, and Spencer, although still focused on his files, couldn't escape the playful banter.

At the end of the day, you approached him, a twinkle in your eye. "I think you should keep the scarf," you suggested, "You need it more than I do."

Spencer's shy smile revealed his appreciation, and he nodded, holding onto the scarf as a cherished memento of a day that had unravelled his usual composure.

[dsireland86]

OMG Yes please make the All Too Well fic! And yeah it is crazy that we thought about him with the same song

I was originally going to use the original version of this song, but after listening to Taylor's version again, it hit differently. This story was a little difficult to write because I really didn't want to make Nick the bad guy. But, at some point in our lives, we all make that one mistake we regret for the rest of our lives, right? In my universe, this was Nicholas's.

All Too Well

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers

My sister's house in upstate New York that Autumn was so cold; colder than Virginia. The moment we walked through the door together, she smiled so big, squeezing my arm and saying how it felt like home. My sister loved her instantly. 

She wore a red scarf around her neck that she said kept the cold out and her body heat in. I didn't believe her. It was so thin and small. There was no way. But it smelled like her, and her scent always made me weak.

I was five years older than her, but nobody could ever tell. People would say my sweet disposition and her wide-eyed gaze that was always focused on me made us look so compatible together that age was never something anyone ever questioned about us.

The whole ten days we were in New York together, singing in the car, almost running countless red lights because I couldn’t stop looking over at her and how beautiful she was with the wind in her hair, getting lost on some crazy back roads with autumn leaves falling down like rain all around us, was the best ten days of my life. It  was nothing but the purest magic ever to be found in life. Even after it was long over, I could still picture all too well; her smile, her eyes, her laughter, all of it. It was love. I was in love with her, and I knew she was in love with me.

My mom came to visit my sister. Knowing y/n and I were there, she brought my childhood photo album and embarrassed the hell out of me. My cheeks never turned as red as they did when she saw me sitting in my old red car twin size bed in just my underwear and glasses; god, those horrible thick, black rimmed glasses.

Then came the t-ball stories that made my mother proud to tell, but made me cringe. But y/n hung on every word my mom said as she learned more about my past and, for the first time, I knew she was my future despite what was waiting for me back in Virginia. I didn't want that anymore. I was over it. I wanted what I had right then; at least I tried convincing myself I did.

As we drove through those back roads, I was aching to say, "I love you," but for some reason, I was too scared to call it what it was, until it was too late. Until it was already dead, gone, and buried beneath the hate and bitterness of her heart, and I didn't blame her one bit for the way she felt. I deserved it.

That same night, I stole her innocence, promising her that she was the only one I'd ever want and that what we had was real, because in the heat of the moment, I really meant it. But in the end, I knew it was a lie from the very beginning. I stole her magic and treated it and her innocence as if they were some ordinary, mundane things when they weren't.

After three months of silence, the moment she found out the truth, the painful look of shame that graced her beautiful face was too much for my heart to handle. I wanted to die, to run away from her and never see her again. There was nothing else for either one of us left to do except hope that she would forget me long enough to forget why she ever felt like she needed me in the first place.

The very last time we were happy was right after we came back from New York, and she stayed over at my place. It was the middle of the night, and I awoke to her not beside me, so I got up and went searching for her only to find her in the kitchen listening to "You Belong To Me" by Jo Stafford; our song. I sat on the stairs for a moment, watching her dance in the glow of the refrigerator light as she looked for something to eat or drink, knowing in the morning all of this was going to end.

I cried, hating myself to the point that I rushed back upstairs and threw up in the toilet. I had kept her a dark, dirty little secret when she only kept me like an oath swearing over and over her loyalty to me. It was all a masterpiece until I tore it all apart. For what? I don't even know anymore.

A month after that night, I called her up to tell her I was moving to my sister's. She answered the phone, sounding so hopeful and optimistic, but when I told her that I was leaving, y/n asked if I was going alone. I didn't want to be honest, but I had lied to her long enough, so I was. I told her the truth (or at least what I had convinced myself to be the truth) about her and I and that what we had was never going to work because of the age difference. I was casually cruel, crumbling her heart up like a piece of paper and throwing it to the floor. I knew she wanted to die because I had felt that kind of pain before, too.

She asked me why I was doing this to her on the eve of her twenty-first birthday and I cringed, completely forgetting the date. She screamed at me, saying it was supposed to be fun turning twenty-one, but now she was nothing but paralyzed by pain and regret. I promised her it would get easier and she disagreed, saying time doesn't fly when you're bleeding like a soldier on the battlefield. Then she asked the crucial question, the one I was hoping she never would; "Did the love affair between us maim you like it maimed me?"

I felt cold, numb from all the pain. I didn't answer her, just told her goodbye then hung up the phone. I went for a walk, plagued by memories of the past in the city's barren cold as the first fall of snow glistened as it fell. I remember it all too well.

I'm boxing up all her things she left behind. Her red plaid shirt, her hairbrush that still holds strands of loose hair, a pair of panties I remember pulling off of her the very last night I made her my own, and her old scarf; the red one she wore to my sister’s that day in New York. I bring it to my nose and breath in deeply, soaking in the remaining scent of her it holds. It reminds me of innocence and the way things used to be. I can't get rid of it. So, I open my dresser drawer and gently lay it in there, touching it one last time before closing it. I remember her wearing it all too well and I never want to forget it either. She loved me so, back before I lost the one real thing I'd ever known. What we had was rare and I know I’ll never have it again.

I say her name every once in a while, like a sacred prayer to remind myself of the one and only good thing in my life that I lost. And the memories of her come rushing back every time, reminding me of her love, all too well.