Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)
Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*
“Go on, tell me. Tell me you don’t love me.” He said trying to keep his voice steady, I couldn’t find the words. “Go ahead!” He said raising his voice. “I don’t love you.”
(couldn’t find the drabble request but it was something along these lines.) The
reader and Spencer are both BAU agents who have been in a relationship for
several years. while on a case the reader gets kidnapped. Spencer refuses to
give up on the reader but with no leads and people constantly urging him to
give up he reluctantly does. He moves on, until the reader is found and they
fall in love again.
Trigger Warning: implied torture (never detailed),
angst, cursing, not much else really.
I stood in the BAU parking garage
staring at (Y/N’s) car. The driver’s side door stood ajar, her phone on the
ground and her purse and its contents sprawled across the floor. The team was a
few feet away already trying to figure out what happened to her. However, I
couldn’t function, she was gone and we have nothing to go on. I was drawn from
my distant state by Hotch’s hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him trying to
hold the tears in.
“We’ll find her Reid. we just have
to treat this like any other case. Victimology, motive, we need to build a
profile.” he said calmly.
I take a deep breath trying to
compose myself. I nodded my head, looking back to her car.
“Yeah. yes. Let’s start with a
profile.” I stated, already walking back to the building.
We’ll find you (Y/N), and I won’t
stop until we do.
Prompt: Set after season 6, ep 18 “Lauren.” The reader was roommates with Emily, and goes to Spencer for comfort. Inspired from the scene where Reid had admitted of thinking of taking drugs again to JJ after Emily comes back in season 7, ep 2.
Spencer stared at the syringe and the small bottle that he placed on the top of the sink. He looked back at the mirror, staring at his own haunted expression and red eyes. He could do it right now and no one would bother him. It wouldn’t hurt this much anymore.
But Emily would be so disappointed.
He shut his eyes close as he swallowed the cry that was lounged in his throat. It’s been five weeks since Emily died, and it still hurt to even think about her. The guilt of not doing enough and the crushing pain he would feel whenever he saw the empty desk beside him was enough to plunge the needle into his arm. He just didn’t want to feel anymore, and he wanted this pain to go away. If he couldn’t save Emily, then who could he save?
The doorbell ringing snapped him out of his thoughts and panic bubbled inside his stomach. He quickly shoved the syringe and bottles into cupboard, looked at himself to make sure that nothing was wrong before he could see who the guest was. He quickly crossed the rooms to open the door, and his breath hitched when he saw who it was.
It was Y/N.
She was drenched, and Spencer didn’t even realize that it was raining outside. His heart clenched when he saw the red eyes and haunted face, and he blinked rapidly to hide his own tears. “Hey,” She said, giving him a tired smile. “Were you sleeping?”
He shook his heads and stepped aside to let her in as he took in her hunched form. "You’re drenched,” he said and wanted to slap his forehead because what a great question genius.
“I was just walking around,” She answered, her voice scratchy. “It suddenly started to rain and I didn’t have an umbrella.”
“You were walking around? At this time?” He said, his voice a bit louder than usual. It was past midnight, and you would think that she would be more careful considering what they see at their jobs.
“It’s better than staying at home,” She whispered, and immediately Spencer felt bad for raising his voice.
Y/N had joined the the team just after Rossi and immediately connected with Emily first before him. Y/N couldn’t find a steady place to stay so Emily offered her apartment and the two quickly became best friends and roommate. So for Y/N to be in a place where she spent so much time with Emily must be hard.
“I am sorry,” He whispered. “Come in, I’ll get you some clothes for you to change.“
"No Spence it’s-”
“You’ll get sick. Please,” He said, and Y/N reluctantly nodded her head. He went to his room and got out with some of his old clothes. With a grateful smile, she took it and headed towards the bathroom. He strode to the kitchen and put the kettle on, knowing she preferred tea over coffee. He started the coffee machine and rubbed his face to keep the tiredness away for now.
He turned to Y/N and froze at what she was holding. He looked back to her face, expecting to see the disgust or pity in her eyes, yet all he saw was empathy. As if she knew exactly what he was feeling, or going through right now. Wordlessly she placed the syringe and the dilaudid on the coffee table and searched her bag for something. She took it out and placed it beside the dilaudid.
Razor blades. Three of them.
He looks back at her, shock clear on his face. He really looks at her now, taking in his sweater and his sweatpants hanging on loosely. There is an vulnerable expression, her posture hunched in, as if to protect herself from criticism or disgust. What drew him the most is the tears that filled her eyes, threatening to fall down. He could feel his own eyes tearing up as he crossed the room and took her in his arms. They both broke down, clutching onto each other as they cry their hearts out.
They don’t know how long they say there, embraced and lost in their grief. The whistling from the kettle broke them out of their embrace, and she looked guilty at his wet shirt. “Sorry about that,” she said, nodding at the wet spot on his shirt.
“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer murmured, wiping away the remaining tears. With a small smile he walked to the kitchen to get the tea and coffee. Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with Spencer’s long sleeves. She looked back when Spencer enters with a cup of her favorite tea. She smiled tiredly, noticing his dark circles and red eyes.
“Thanks,” She whispered, and with a tug on her arm they both sat on the couch. She tucked her legs under her, keeping some space between Spencer. There was a hesitation in the air, as if they were not sure of themselves after such intimate moment.
“I never told anyone about that,” Y/N said, her voice soft as she nodded to the blades. “That’s why I was walking around. If I was in my apartment, I think I would have given in.”
“Oh,” Spencer mustered, continued to looking at his coffee. “I understand. If you hadn’t come maybe I would have too.”
“What stopped you?”
“Emily,” Spencer whispered, tears immediately filling his eyes.
“Did she know?”
“The whole team knows, except for Seavar and Rossi. It happened when she was new,” He answered, a shake in his voice. “We were on this case-“
“You don’t need to tell me,” she told him in empathy. She knew how hard it is to open up about something like this, and that’s why she never told anyone when she moved to Quantico.
“I want to,” he looked up at her, his face showing determination. “We were on this case in Atlanta, and the unsub was suffering from dissociate identity disorder. One of his personalities would torture me while Tobias, the unsub, would drug me with dilaudid. He said it would help, but it only made things worse.”
There was a haunted look in his eyes, and Y/N reached over to hold his hand. Spencer snapped out of his memories when he looked down at their intertwined hands, and he looked up to see her up close with an broken expression. She squeezed his hand, letting him know that she was there and if he needed to stop it was fine. There was no judgment in her eyes, just understanding.
“He made me choose which family to kill, and I had to. They died right in front of me,” his voice cracked at the end, but Y/N didn’t make a move to get closer. She let her own tears flow, her heart aching for the man sitting beside her. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring forward and continuing with his story.
“I had to kill him and his last words were thank you. I took the two bottles of dilaudid from his dead body, and I tried at first to not get high. But the pain and nightmares were too much-“
“And you wanted an escape,” she finished for him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He swallowed down in nervousness, trying to not break down again. “The team noticed, of course, but they couldn’t do anything officially. Emily was new at that time, and it was easier to snap at her than others.” He concentrated on the patterns she was drawing on top of his hand, drawing comfort and courage to continue.
“But she was very understanding,” He continued, looking back at Y/N with teary eyes. “Hotch couldn’t talk about it officially because then I would have lost my job. Gideon helped, but even though I have been clean for 3 years 2 months and 28 days now, the cravings never leave. It only increases when you are in pain.”
“I know,” Y/n consoled, continuing to draw circles. She placed the cup with her free hand, and gently, almost hesitantly, placed her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. They both needed the comfort, whether it was physical or emotional.
“My parents divorced when I was 14. It was really messy, both of them were fighting over every single thing. I felt so lost because I always thought that they loved each other you know? Everything got too much for me, so I started to cut myself,” she started, and maybe it is because Spencer was open about his experience that it makes it easier for to do the same.
“Cutting is another outlet for coping with problems. It may help you express feelings you can’t put into words, distract you from your life, or release emotional pain. 90% of people who engage in self harm begin during their teen or pre-adolescent,” Spencer told her, rambling off statistics. He winced outward, knowing that facts were not comforting words to many.
But it brought a small smile on her face, because she knew that facts comforted Spencer, and she knew that it was his way to comfort others. “Then my dad died in an car accident when I turned 17 and made sure that my mom would not get a single penny,” Her voice suddenly shook, remembering the numbness she felt at that time. Spencer tightened his grip, now his turn to draw circles on her hand.
“He left all of his money and properties to me, and that made my mom so mad. As soon as I turned 18 she threw me out of my house. It didn’t matter really, they both stopped being my parents a long time ago. I guess my dad left everything for me because of guilt. The cuttings made me feel better, but I tried to get better when I started college. I got help but it never went away you know.
“Then I got pregnant.”
“What?” He stuttered, not expecting that. His mind went blank because Y/N never talked about her child, and his eyes widen with the possibility of why.
“A lot people thought it was the biggest mistake of my life. 18 and pregnant, but she was the best thing that ever happened to me. The father got scared and ran off, but it didn’t matter.”
“What’s her name?” He asked tenderly, his heart heavy with sadness for the woman beside him.
“Lily,” she whispered, her voce breaking into a sob. She sniffed back, blinking her eyes to stop crying. It was so hard to even say her name after so long. “It was so weird. She hated lilies because she said people would always give her that rather than roses. But I finally had a family. It was just me and her, but it was more than enough. Everything was perfect. It was hard but so worth it.”
There was nostalgia in her voice, a longing that he knew that would always be there. He choked back his own sobs, trying to stay strong for her. “How did she-“
A shudder went through her body as she shut her eyes closed and clenched her jaw. He felt her shudder and brought her closer to him in order to comfort her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” He whispered to her, pressing a kiss on her forehead.
“I couldn’t save her. I was the youngest detective at that time with the highest success rate in the state and I couldn’t save her. That’s why I became a profiler, so that others won’t have to go through what I experienced. But I couldn’t save Emily when it mattered the most, and now I feel so useless. If I can’t save those who I love, then what’s the use of this job Spence?”
“I know,” He whispered, burying his head in her hair. She practically sat on his lap, tucking her head in the crook of his neck as they both grieved. They don’t know when they stopped crying or when they both fell asleep on the couch, legs tangled and bodies pressed against each other.
All they know is that it was the first time since they didn’t have a nightmare since Emily’s death.
The moment Y/N wakes up, she instantly knew that it wasn’t her bed. She felt someone’s breathing down her neck, and she opened her eyes to find herself flushed to someone’s chest. She looks up to see Spencer snoring softly and mouth slightly open. She smiled at the cute look on his face and notices that he has his arms wrapped around her waist, making it harder for her to get up. She glances at the coffee table, taking in the blades, syringes and the half empty cups and suddenly realizes that she didn’t have a nightmare.
She had a light headache and her eyes felt dry because of all the crying she did last night (or was it early morning?) and she was squeezed on the couch with Spencer. But all she felt safe, with his arms around her and legs tangled with each other. She settled back onto his arm, closing her eyes and going to the dreamland with him.
It was the weekend, so she knew that they won’t get called in. All she wanted right now was feeling safe, and in his arms she found it.
A/N: A request from @dakota-dream for one where the reader’s father is a notorious serial killer (much like Ashley) and she doesn’t tell anyone (unlike Ashley, lol). One day, the case gets brought up again, because although her father is in prison, it is believed he may have a partner who has started up again. Although the two aren’t romantically involved, Spencer is right there comforting her and all that good shit. LOL @coveofmemories
The only one on the immediate team that knew was Hotch - and he had to know because of the background check you’d undergone when you started. You remember begging him not to tell anyone.
“What happens if it comes up?” he asked.
You mean someday someone might just come right out and ask, hey, Y/N, is your father a homicidal maniac? “You think that’s just going to come up in conversation, Hotch?” you said with a taut smile. “I don’t think it’s going to come up. If god forbid, someday, something comes about that leads us as a team back to my father, then I’ll come clean, but until that point, I really don’t feel like announcing that kind of information. Like, hello, my name is Y/N, and my father killed 10 women while I was in high school. Kind of a conversation killer.”
He smiled at your starkness. “I’ll of course keep it to myself, but just so you know, I’m sure everyone would be able to separate you from your father. You’re not the same.”
“No,” you said. Thank fucking god for that. “But I am who I am because of the disgusting and despicable things he did. And I really hate the idea of being associated with him. Hence the last name change.” As soon as you turned 18, you legally changed your last name to your mother’s maiden name. It was kind of an old lady last name, but it was sure as shit better than being associated with your father in any way.
He nodded your way - a silent affirmation that he would keep your deep, dark secret. As you left the office that day, you though that with any luck, nothing would ever lead the team back to your father and that way you’d never have to tell anyone about what he was doing in your neighborhood as you were asleep in your bed.
Now, as you stared at the TV screen, you took in the images before you, thinking how similar the two women looked to your father’s victims.
Your grandmother, his father, had tried to abort him when she was pregnant. She claimed she knew her child would be evil. But the failed attempt led her to give birth at eight months, and it was a troublesome birth at that. The cord was wrapped around his neck for an extended period of time. Honestly, your father probably didn’t stand a chance with the genes he’d inherited, the house he grew up in, and the traumatic birth he’d suffered. Even before he was born, his surroundings spelled serial killer.
While you were going to school and playing soccer, unaware of the insane bullshit that was about to unfold, your father was killing ten women in your neighborhood and the surrounding areas that looked an awful lot like your grandmother did when she was young. Your father’s case was so oedipal is was cliche.
As a home security installer, he had the best access anyone could possibly have. At the drop of a hat, he knew what women were vulnerable, how he could get into their homes, how long he could be there without getting caught, and so, could fully prepare whatever he needed to bring to their homes so he could torture them. Once inside, 100 positive that he wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone, he knocked the women out and tied them down to a bed, waiting for them to wake before he started his sadistic routine. First, he would make small cuts on their bodies with an extremely sharp knife - not enough to draw much blood, but enough to painful. You remember hearing a recording of one of his prison tapes where he said how that was always his favorite part, when they realized they would never make it out of their ordeal alive. It always happened quickly, but it was the part that made him the happiest. He would increase the depth and length of his cuts until the women were begging for death at which point he’d strangle them. After they were gone, he’d open them up, taking the reproductive organs as trophies. When he’d been caught, he proudly showed the authorities the ten jars he’d kept, the organs perfectly preserved so he could look at them whenever he wanted.
“Our two victims are suburban women, cut pre-mortem, strangled to death and then opened up post-mortem,” Hotch said. “The reproductive organs were removed.” When he looked at you, you could feel it. This would be the moment you’d have to share your deep, dark secret. The similarities were too much for this to be a coincidence.
As Spencer looked on, taking in each and every gory detail of the victims, he said what you’d hoped he wouldn’t. “The torture beforehand, the cause of death and the removal of the organs, plus the look of the victims make this look very much like the case of Kenneth Stanford, The Slasher of South Hill.”
Everyone started spewing out theories and possibilities as you sat there quietly, trying to build up the courage to say what you needed to say. Once you had, you gave Hotch a look. “Anything to add, Y/N?”
“You all know me as Y/F/N Y/L/N, but that’s my mother’s maiden name. Until I was 18, I was a Stanford. The Slasher of South Hill is my father.”
(A/N) Since Word decided to be a jerk and delete half of this part, it isn’t as good as I’d like it to be. Sorry…I also don’t really know a way I can write this one without the triggers. So take a look at them before you read it! Either way enjoy!
simulations are the worst. It wasn’t even my turn yet, but I was scared
Even the toughest of us, had to be carried out of the room. And because I was
first in ranking, I was the last one to try out this amazing simulation. I’m
going to puke.
Xavier sat next to me, Lucy has been inside for ten minutes by now.
For some time we tried to do small talk, keep our minds off, of what we are
about to do, but it didn’t work. And when Lucy was carried out by a dauntless
member, my spirit sank.
Xavier was next, it took about seven minutes, until two guys carefully carried
him out and the last one before me entered the room.
My mind was racing, thinking about what could be in my fear simulation. The
only thing that came to mind, was my father. He would definitely be in there in
some way. Other than that…maybe needles. I really don’t like those. But that’s
that. I can’t think of more.
I was leaning back, resting my head against the wall, just as the door opened
and the guy was carried out…again. Seriously, no one that went through the
simulations today, was able to walk out on their own feet.
“Y/N? You ready?” Four stood in the doorway, looking at me. “Well, can I say
no?” At this he just chuckled and shook his head. I followed him into the room
and sat down on the chair.
“Most people encounter one to two fears at their first try. The last fear is
always the worst, but you’re going to see that one another time. Don’t worry.”
At least something. I won’t see my father today.
Four took some kind of gun with a needle in front and moved my hair back.
I had to keep myself from wincing, as Four pressed the needle into my neck.
Keeping my eyes shut, I didn’t want to open them. Why should I? If I can’t see
them, they can’t see me, right?
Well, I had to open them sooner or later. And in this case, it was as soon as I
felt something crawl up my leg. Spiders. Of course.
Creepy, but easy to get rid of. After that came needles and darkness. So far so
I mean, technically I should have waken up by now, but who cares. It wasn’t as bad
as I thought it would be.
That was until my next fear. I awoke in my bed in Erudite. First, I thought
this would be my fear with my father, but then I noticed my sister, sound
asleep, beside me.
I sat up, trying to collect my thoughts, just as our mother opened the door and
set two bags down.
“Emily? Wake up.” She gently shook my sister awake, who looked utterly
confused. “Where are we going? Why is Y/N not coming with us?” “Mum?” I reached out and touched her shoulder, but she didn’t react. For her, I wasn’t even there. Why is my mind showing me this?!
Our mother ignored her question and pulled her through the hole house, till
they were outside.
“Mum! Take me with you! Please!” Tears were streaming down my face, as I
watched my mother and sister leave. Again.
I curled into a ball on the floor, crying. I want this to be over! Why do we have to do this? It’s torture! I laid there, for what felt like eternity until something caught my attention.
A tap on my shoulder made me look up. Xavier stood there, smiling down at me. Maybe it already was over! Maybe I just dreamed the last part! He was about to say something, when a black shadow appeared behind him,
slitting his throat open.
“Nooooooo!” I caught his lifeless body before it could hit the floor. “Xavier…”
Why is all this happening? I want to wake up!
I cried into Xavier’s chest, hoping to finally wake up, but as always, I
Before I could really realise everything that was going on, I felt something
struck my back. I realised, I wore nothing but my bra and the school uniform
It was time for him. I thought about fighting back, but I couldn’t. After I
watched my best friend die, I didn’t have any power left. So I just laid
there, hoping that this nightmare would end soon.
Four called me, I expected to find an initiate, that had to be carried out.
What I certainly didn’t expect was Four, Max and Y/N, still in her simulation.
“What’s wrong?” I moved to stand beside Four and looked at the screen.
Y/N just laid there, getting beaten by her father. She didn’t fight back. Shit.
Why did she choose Dauntless? If she chose anything else, this wouldn’t happen.
I wouldn’t have to watch the only person I care about, getting hurt.
“She won’t wake up.” Four looked concerned, glancing at me and Max.
“There has to be a way to wake her up!” I turned to Max, who just shook his
head. “Not without risking her life. She has to do it on her own.” Max turned
to have a look at her vitals, while I was thinking of a way to wake her. And I
thought of something.
“Fuck that! Four.” Almost ripping my jacket from my body, I picked up Y/N’s
limp body and sat down, with her on top of me. Thankfully, Four understood what
I wanted from him and immediately connected me to her, before injecting me with
After a few seconds, I found myself standing in Y/N’s old living room. She
still laid on the floor, her father still above her. Running to her, I knocked
her father out, before cradling her body in my arms.
“Sssshhhh. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.” She continued to sob
into my chest, making my heart ache.
“I know it hurts Y/N, but I need you to wake up. You can do that.” I pressed
her tighter against my body, waiting for her to calm down.
After a while, she did and she managed to wake up.
Opening my eyes, I found Max and Four staring at the girl in my arms. Her eyes
were wide and she frantically looked around the room.
Her eyes eventually found mine and she hugged me, grabbing my shirt.
“It’s okay. It’s over Y/N.” Four and Max left the room, giving us privacy.
“Eric…” She sobbed into my shirt, causing me to hug her tighter.
“I’ll get you home.” She nodded her head and I picked her up.
Outside, Four and Max were quietly talking, but shut up as soon as I walked
outside with Y/N in my arms.
“I’ll take her to my place.” I didn’t care what either of them thought. I just
wanted to get her home. I took the fastest way back and laid her down in my bed
as soon as we were there.
“Eric…this wasn’t real, was it?” Her voice was small, barely audible.
“No, it wasn’t. None of it.” She nodded and scooted closer, cuddling against
me. My arms were tightly locked around her small frame. As long as I’m still
breathing, I will let nothing hurt her.
“I love you Eric.”
Warning: Smut, Ashton kinda fucks you with a lolly. But it’s ok I swear.
Summary: Y/N had been getting text’s from ‘A’, threatening her to sext and send nudes. Only to find out he was going to be at her very own Halloween party, so they will meet face to face and be face to face with other parts of the body. (69 if you catch my drift;)
I reached my hand in my pocket, feeling my phone buzz and ding inside the confinement. I was currently setting up for my halloween party that I was holding tonight and I had been getting all sorts of messages. Mostly people confirming the time and if they can bring booze, well duh. I placed my thumb on the screen opening up my phone and clicking onto messages. I sighed and tapped onto the message, it was yet another message from ‘A’. ‘A’ had been texting me for the past couple of week’s, they were a nightmare.
They had been sending through messages asking for nudes or asking me to sext and if I didn’t they threatened me with video files that could get me into trouble. Last year wasn’t my best year and someone had caught it on tape. So as anyone would I reported it, but the person behind ‘A’ leaked a video of me stealing a file from our headmasters office. It was one of my friends medical file, but they gave me a week detention as I had no proof it was hers. And breaking into the headmasters office was frowned upon. So since then I’ve been dealing with everything ‘A’ tells me, other wise other things will spill.
(Y/N) kept staring through the window, Chace driving next to her not speaking. It was comforting, Chace always knew when to talk to her or just when to hold her if she needed to. But this time it was different, they were no longer two kids that were trained together for several years due to their abilities.
Now they were both adults, one of them in need for the other. And Chace was never one to back off of her, he would always be there if she called or texted.
So when he got her text about her and James leaving the town they were living because the infamous Natasha Romanoff came searching for her claiming to be a real danger and that she needed to get back with her former team, he dropped off everything and came to the States.
Summary: My entry for Rach’s 2000 follower challenge, i present to you (apologetically late) a Reid x reader version of the season two episode “Jones”! Thank you @reidoneshots so much for the opportunity, I’m really very thankful! Much love xox
You listened as your fellow profilers regurgitated the information you had come across to the police department. You expertly observed the officers’ expressions as each learned what to look for in suspects. Will LaMontagne JR, the lead detective, sat beside you as he assisted you in your task.
Will’s father had died before he could solve the case and you could only imagine how that must have tore his son apart. The words “Jones” scribbled into the wood of a desk were all that remained, and you were thankful that they did.
As everyone dispersed, you looked for Reid’s face among the thinning crowd, curious to hear his theories and thoughts. You sighed when you came up empty. He had been acting different lately.
However, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be chalked up to side effects of being tortured and kidnapped. You had begged him to take more time for himself, but he dismissed your wishes with a reassuring smile on his face.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Gideon ushering you towards the table, yet again. Reid would just have to wait.
“Geez!” Ethan exclaimed as Reid’s familiar face rounded the corner.
“Reid, you scared me.” “I’ve always been one step ahead of you, man,” aforementioned male retorted, a small smirk crossing his lips. “Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ethan sighed.
There was a slight pause in the conversation as each studied one another. “I’m glad you called, it’s good to see ya.” “You too,” Spencer said with a smile. “Let’s get a drink,” Ethan more or less suggested, trusting that the profiler would follow behind.
“Garcia, what do you got?” you answered the phone call. “What was the one thing Jack The Ripper took from each of his victims? Well, besides her life.” You almost laughed at her question as you wracked your brain. Reid would-
“Tick, tock!” Penelope’s bubbly voice spoke up. “I-I give up,” you surrendered. “A kidney. How horrifyingly fantastic is that?” she giggled. “Well besides the interesting factoid, were you going somewhere with that?” you asked, suppressing a smile of your own.
“I just found an unsolved murder that happened four months ago in Galveston, Texas, same M.O, the victim missing the very same organ,” she paused to admire her own work. “I amaze myself.” “Me too. Thanks, Penny!”
“What’s that?” Gideon asked, turning to you as you sat your phone back on the table. “Garcia found a similar case in Galveston, Texas.” “A lot of Katrina refugees there,” he added. “What if it’s the same guy? He’s removed the kidney just like Jack the Ripper,” you said, waiting for his reaction.
“Call Reid and Morgan. I want the three of you on a plane to Texas tonight.” You nodded at your boss, pulling out your phone as you stood up.
Reid rolled his eyes as he pulled his cell from his back pocket. He and Ethan were leaning against the bar, per Ethan’s request. Both men looked at the caller ID as your first name blinked to the beat of the ringtone. Reid smiled slightly at it before ultimately hanging up, deciding he would call you back as soon as he could.
“So, are you gonna ask the question?” Reid furrowed his brows at his friend. “What question?” “Come on, man, it’s me here. We haven’t talked to each other in years, I know it’s why you called me. Ask the question.” Reid looked towards the ground before replying. “Why did you quit after only one day of FBI training?”
“Well,” Ethan replied, pausing to reach for his glass. “I’m sure you’ve considered the evidence, analyzed the signs.. what’s your theory?” he finished, bringing the cup to his lips. “You were fighting your own demons, you didn’t have time to analyze someone else’s,” Reid answered quickly.
“Not bad, not bad. Those days I did prefer Jack Daniels to Jeff Dahmer.” Reid was pretty sure he still did. “They both way on your soul eventually,” he continued, pointing a finger at Reid. “Sorry,” Spencer muttered as his phone rang again. He stared at your name longer this time, worry filling his chest. “Bat phone,” Ethan teased.
Reid’s smile was small as he closed the device slowly. ‘Y/N is ok,’ he reminded himself quickly, trying to push your image from his mind. “Let me ask you this, Ethan,” he began. “Do you ever regret it?” Ethan sighed. “I may not be changing the world, but my music makes me happy. And it doesn’t take a profiler to see that you’re not,” he said, nudging his cup in Spencer’s direction.
Reid grabbed his own glass before following Ethan to a small sitting area. “It’s not easy. It’s not- I don’t think you’d believe some of the things that I’ve seen,” he explained. “John Coltrane,” Ethan began, leaning back comfortably in the armchair, “he was a genius too. Does if cancer. But most people think it was the booze and heroin that did him in.”
Reid’s position was the complete opposite. He sat leaning forward, resting his forearms in his lap. “What’re you trying to say?” he asked, his voice soft. “You look like hell,” Ethan chuckled. “I’m fine,” Reid argued, leaning away from his friend and crossing his arms. “C'mon man. I’m a jazz musician in New Orleans. But I know what it looks like when someone’s not well.” Spencer was too uncomfortable to speak out, choosing to avoid Ethan’s gaze.
“This may be the one time I can tell you something that you don’t already know.” He pointed at Spencer’s arm. “It might help you forget, but it won’t make it go away. And if I can tell,” he paused to lean forward, “you’re surrounded by some of the best minds in the world, and if you think they don’t notice..” he trailed off, wiggling his hand. “Well, for a genius, that’s just dumb,” he finished, taking a sip of his drink.
As Spencer contemplated his words, he ignored the buzzing in his pocket.
“Hey,” Morgan greeted you as he entered the plane. You peered anxiously towards the door as he set his stuff down, eager to see Reid’s face. “Where’s Reid?” Morgan asked, glancing back to you. “He’s not with you?” you asked, feeling more and more anxious as seconds passed.
“You didn’t already call him?” he replied, sitting down beside him. “Four times,” you practically whispered before resting your face in your hands. “What did I do wrong?” you asked rhetorically. “What do you mean?” Morgan asked, instantly concerned.
“He’s been avoiding me, acting weirdly… he’s been just awful to Emily. I thought I was his best friend, what can’t he tell me? What did I do?” you explained. “It’s not you,” he assured, rubbing your hunched back softly.
“What if something happened?” you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up. “Calm down, lil mama,” he teased. “He’s fine, trust me. We’ll go on ahead to Texas, and you can kick his ass when we get back. Deal?” You smiled back at Morgan, thankful for his comforting nature. “Deal.”
“So..” you trailed off after getting Spencer alone the next day. “What?” he asked, turning away from the packet he had been scanning. “What was, uh, up last night?” You skillfully avoided his gaze by keeping yours locked on a paper of your own. “Hanging out with a friend,” he shrugged, turning back to his paper.
“Oh,” you said simply. “Yeah,” he muttered. It was silent for a few seconds before you spoke again. “I was worried.” A part of you hoped he hadn’t picked up on your quiet voice, but alas, you had no such luck. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I’m fine,” he sighed.
“I hope so.” Even though the comment was under your breath, he still heard. “You know what? I am fine! I don’t need you nagging me! I can take care of myself, dammit!” he yelled at you. His expression immediately softened as a wounded look crossed your face.
You stood up hastily, gathering your things. “Y/N,” he whispered as he extended a hand. “Sorry for caring, Spence. I’ll leave you alone now,” you said hoarsely before briskly going to a different area.
His felt crushed as he watched you storm into another room, leaving only the scent of your perfume in your wake. People who saw the exchange offered him either looks of pity or straight up glares, which he knew he deserved. What had he just done? Why?
He could only detest himself for so long before the need to solve the case overpowered his woeful state. Even though his eyes focused on scanning the pages upon pages before him, he subconsciously found himself staring at you nonetheless. Your frown,your downcast eyes, your shaky movements, everything about your distress made his heart ache. It left hi wondering what had come over him.
The case was solved, finally, and you could practically feel the relief dripping from everyone involved. Deciding that a little alcohol in your system would be a perfect way to get your well deserved downtime, you headed to the local bar.
Jazz created an airy atmosphere as you took a seat in one of the large armchairs available before taking a long sip of your beverage. You became just short of hypnotized by the tune of the live music, prompting you to praise him later.
Your thoughts were interrupted as someone cleared their throat before sitting in the chair beside you. You glanced up to see Spencer, his hands trembling slightly. Your face lit up before remembering how upset you were at him, even if you knew you couldn’t stay that way.
“Spencer-” He interrupted by holding up his hand. “Y/N, please, just give me a chance. Please,” he asked, puffing out his bottom lip slightly. You simply nodded with mock reluctance.
“I-I, well, I- Ok I’m just going to say it: I’m addicted to the drug that Tobias gave me, in the shack. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk, it’s just- it’s so bad,” he confessed as his voice broke.
“Spencer,” you whimpered before taking his face in your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want you to hate me. I know it’s stupid.”
He leaned into your palm, a sad smile playing across his lips. “I-I’m going to help you,” you said decidedly before pulling him into a hug. He nodded into your shoulder as you cradled the back of his head, his curls tangled around your fingers.
“Will you forgive me?” he murmured. “On one condition,” you said, gently lifting his head to face you. “What’s that?”
“I never have to go on a plane without you again, deal?” He nodded before leaning forward to press his upturned lips against your cheek. He didn’t move as he replied,“Never.”
“I love you,” you said after a moment of silence, which was spent holding him as if he would disappear if you let go. “I love you too,” he whispered. Truthfully, he could hardly believe the words had passed your lips, especially after how he had been acting.
“You’re going to be ok, you know.” His smile widened as he spoke,“I know.” “I’m always going to be here for you,” you said quietly, still keeping the awkward embrace. “I know.” He flashed the familiar jazz musician a smile over your shoulder. He liked keeping a hold on his future while still glancing back at his past.
A/N: An anon request for a BAU x Reader (with low-key Reid x Reader, very low-key IMO) where the reader has a new name and identity because she’s running from an abusive husband. P.S. The new identity I’m giving a name, the true person will be referred to as Y/N. Basically the opposite of my story Coercion. @coveofmemories@sexualemobitch@jamiemelyn@unstoppableangel8
P.S.S. This could have been easily turned into a longer fic, but then it would too much like Coercion, so this is definitely a one-shot.
“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome Agent Danica Simmons, a recent graduate of the Academy,” Hotch said as you walked into the room. As you painted a smile onto your face, you tuned in to Hotch’s words. Hearing him refer to you as Danica Simmons was so foreign to your ears - the words felt off in the distance. “She’s joining us from St. Louis PD after five years.”
God, you wished that was your truth. No, in fact it wasn’t.
Your name was Danica Simmons, it was Y/N Y/L/N, and your ex-husband was a powerful man with endless resources, and not just the monetary kind, resources that you knew he would spend wisely in his endless pursuit of you. After two years of endless physical and mental abuse at his hands, you worked up the courage to flee. Instead of Dr. Y/L/N, psychology professor at a bumfuck college in the middle of nowhere, you were now Agent Danica Simmons, well, you became Agent after applying to and get accepted to the Academy.
Point was, you were start your life over, far away from the man that had plagued the last two years of your life. “Hello, everyone,” you said with a heavy smile. “My name is Danica, you can call me Dany for short if you’d like. I look forward to working with you all.” Your eyes scanned the room as Agent Hotchner introduced everyone. First was David Rossi, who even as a psychology professor, you’d heard much about. Then there was Agents Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan, their warm and smiling faces immediately welcoming you - a person they truly knew nothing about - into the group. Standing next to Derek was the technical analyst Penelope Garcia. Although you didn’t know her, she looked like a bright ray of sunshine, the type of person you were before your ex (technically still) husband beat it out of you. Finally, was Dr. Spencer Reid. There was a softness about him, an awkwardness that you found endearing, which made sense considering all you’d been through.
After all the introductions had been made, Hotch invited you to sit down. You already had a case. Sure, you studied human behavior, but up until now, you’d only applied it in a collegiate setting. It was a whole new ball game now. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it, but frankly, you didn’t really have a choice.
A month had passed since you, Danica, not you Y/N, had joined the BAU, and though you were going by another name, you were feeling the most like yourself that you had since before you got married. Immediately, they had all welcomed you with open arms. In the month since you’d started, you’d been to two team dinners at the Thai food place down the street from the BAU, and three ladies’ nights, which consisted of booze, cards against humanity and amazing movies. Morgan was super sweet to you, almost like a big brother, while Rossi and Hotch acted like surrogate fathers. The only person who was still a little weird around you was Spencer, but from what you could tell that was because Spencer had a little bit of a crush on you. Were it not for the reason you were here to begin with, you’d ask him out. In your eyes, he was everything you’d ever deserved but hadn’t gotten.
There was one problem.
Your ex-husband still existed.
And although you didn’t know how you knew, you felt that he was nearing you. Thousands of miles from home and yet you swore you saw familiar faces while you were out and about. Once or twice there had been pieces of mail that had no return address (you’d immediately thrown them away). Once, you’d even convinced yourself that you’d seen his face from across the street, though he vanished in an instant, so you convinced yourself you were wrong. You’d been on the run for nearly a year. Most of that time was spent applying to and getting into the Academy, but once you got in, your guard had been let down, and now he was hot on your trail. You were convinced of it.
Then it happened. He appeared. You had absolutely no doubt that it was him. As you were preparing to leave on a case, Grant Anderson showed up to the round table room. “Agent Hotchner?”
“Yes, Anderson, what is it?”
“There was someone outside asking for someone that wasn’t here. I just got a really bad feeling from him. I thought you should know.” As soon as he said that, you knew who it had to be, but when Hotch asked the next logical question, it was confirmed.
“Who was he asking for?”
“Someone by the name of Y/N Y/L/N.”
It took everything in you not to flinch. They would’ve noticed immediately. Your cover was blown, but you didn’t want to bring these new people into your mess - you hadn’t expected to become so attached so quickly. But that’s what happened when you were out of his clutches.
Another week had passed since he’d shown his face at the Bureau. He wanted you on edge. Other than the physical abuse, he thrived on the psychological torture, so watching you squirm, knowing that he was so close and yet wouldn’t show his face, was definitely getting his rocks off. That night, as you sat in bed with your windows tightly locked, the door dead-bolted, and your gun sitting right under your pillow, you promised yourself that you’d tell your teammates your story in the morning. Had this just been a job for you, you might have considered dealing with this on your own, but you knew him. He was going to go after them to hurt you one way or another, but if they were prepared - if they knew about him - then at least you could destroy a piece of his plan. Make him work harder. If he was going to take you down, you weren’t going to make it easier for him, and you weren’t going to leave your friends in a blind spot.
The next morning, you walked into the round table room, your face red and puffy from crying all night. This was the last place you imagined to be in life, but here you were and you couldn’t put them in harm’s way, so here went nothing. “Danica?” Spencer asked. “Are you okay?”
“No,” you whispered, sitting down as the eyes of all your teammates descended upon you. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s wrong?” Rossi asked.
With a deep breath, you fiddled with your fingers a bit before looking at Hotch. “You know that man that Anderson said gave him a bad feeling last week?” Hotch’s expression didn’t change from one of worry, but he nodded, convincing you to continue. “I know him.”
“Who is he?” Emily asked.
Why was this your life? A deep breath rattled out of you. “My ex-husband, technically still husband.” When you glanced upward, your eyes caught the astonished expressions on everyone’s faces, but they were soon blurred by tears. “My name isn’t Danica Simmons,” you stuttered. All of a sudden, so much more was at stake for you than you physical life - the life that you built for yourself, this job and your new friends were also at risk, and that felt even worse for some reason. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I do have a doctoral degree, just no law enforcement experience.”
“What is your name?” Garcia asked. When you looked at her, the tears streamed harder. It was tough disappointing all of them, but some reason, it hurt even more with Garcia.
“Y/N Y/L/N. I was a lot like you Garcia, before him.”
When they didn’t say anything, you used the silence as your invitation to continue. “I married right after getting my Ph.D. He seemed like a great guy, until about six months into our marriage. It started with verbal abuse, and then turned physical. The last time he hit me, I ended up in the hospital, so I ran. I found a friend to give me a new identity, and came here. I wanted to start a new life.” The words were being strangled in your throat as you spoke, so you stopped, took a deep breath and continued. “I didn’t think he would find me until recently. I know I’ve only been here a little over a month and you owe me nothing, but I feel like I owe you all.” Glancing to the side, you saw Spencer’s eyes glazed with tears, his eyes flashing with a hint of anger for the man that hurt you. Garcia put her hand on top of yours, which made you start to sob. “I realize that I lied to get here, but I actually think I’m good at this job and I didn’t expect to be welcomed so warmly by all of you. I could never live with myself if something happened to you because of him…I understand if you want me to leave.”
After a few moments of silence, Hotch sighed heavily and you were 99 percent positive that he was going to ask you to leave. “Tell us more about him.”
Your head snapped up. “What? Why?”
Rossi leaned into the table, his elbows resting on the mahogany colored surface. “When someone comes after one of us, they come after all of us.”
A choked sob escaped you. “What about the fact that I lied?”
“You did actually pass the Academy right?” Hotch asked. “Just under a different name?”
“Yea,” you laughed, trying to force a little levity into the heaviness of the situation. “I didn’t think there was any way around that.”
“Then you’ve earned the right to be here,” he said. “I’ll figure out a way to convince my superiors that you deserve to stay here.” You shot him an unspoken thank you, unable to form the actual words, before he asked you to tell them all about your ex-husband. And so you told them of the man that stole your innocence and light.
By the time you finished, nearly everyone was crying. “How do you want to go about catching him?” Hotch asked. “Profile him. What do you think his next move is going to be?”
“Well,” you started wiping the tears from your eyes and composing yourself, “He’s got the money and people to come after me, so I have no doubt that he or someone he knows saw me come in this morning, and based on my red and puffy, he could assume that I told you all about him. Since he can’t use you to hurt me anymore, at least no easily, he’s going to come straight for me. Him, not someone else.” Even though the rest of the team was behind you, you still doubted that the Bureau as a whole would expend resources for someone that lied to them, so you hesitated. “C-can we have undercover agents stationed nearby my apartment? My best guess is that he’s going to come for me personally. Not tonight, but in a couple of days.”
“Are we all okay with going after this bastard?” Hotch asked. Slowly, everyone nodded their heads. “Good, then we’ll be standing guard in shifts for the next few nights. Some of us in cars, some of us on the streets, some of us in shops or cafes nearby. You have us all on speed dial?”
“Then call us immediately if you feel like anything is wrong,” he said.
It was that simple. With that, a plan was in place. Maybe, just maybe, your years-long nightmare was almost over.
Your assumptions had been correct. The previous night brought nothing. Despite the fact that you knew your teammates were outside your apartment, you barely slept, coming in the next morning with drawn skin and a serious desire for sleep. Tonight was another night, but you were so exhausted you fell asleep.
Popping up from your bed, you heard a vase hit the floor and immediately grabbed your gun and your phone. With your gun aimed at the bedroom door, you called Hotch. “Hotch!” you whispered. “Are any of the team in the apartment?”
“No,” he said. “Stay calm. We’re on our way.”
Despite the gun in your hand, your heart pounded in your chest. Strength or not, gun or not, this man still beat you senselessly - you were still scared. “Oh, Y/N,” he cooed. “I told you you’d never be safe from me.” The door creaked, and your finger pressed gently onto the trigger of your gun.
“Freeze!” It was Spencer.
“Who the hell are you?” Your husband asked.
Spencer smirked and pressed his finger to the trigger as well. “I’m her friend. And I know who you are. Put the gun down and turn around.”
He did as Spencer asked just as you peeked out the door. In an instant, your husband lunged at Spencer. Though the gun was knocked from Spencer’s hands, he managed to recoil and dodge, throwing a punch to your husband’s jawline, which sent him back into the wall. The anger in his eyes scared you, but he was going to go after Spencer and without a thought, you exited the room and lunged at him, getting hit in the face and pinned to the floor before he was pulled off you. “Enough!” Morgan screamed. “You’re done, asshole!”
You had a split lip, but you were okay. Spencer came up to your side and pulled you up, gathering you in his arms. “It’s over,” he whispered.
As Morgan dragged him from your apartment, he twisted and turned to get away, his eyes boring holes into your skin. With his money and power, you were still petrified. He was definitely going to jail, but the true question was for how long. Your only solace was the truth. The team knew everything now and though you weren’t sure you deserved their help, they were there to give it - now and always.
The definition of insanity is classified simply as doing the same exact thing over and over again and expecting different results. And while I am not at all a fan of derogatory terms such as “crazy” or “looney,” there’s really no other way to accurately describe my behavior for the past three decades. After all, you would think that after my dad walked out on me when I was eight and based on the fact that almost every friend I had before I reached college never really stuck around for very long, I would have known by now not to get attached to people. I should have known by now not to make friends with anyone.
Because all of the friends I’ve made in life all have one thing in common: they all leave.
Though I may have never really considered my father a friend in my life (we weren’t really that close even when I was younger), losing him at such a young age really set the bar for what I should have expected in the future. While I didn’t have a whole lot of friends growing up, the handful that I did at some point become close with only stuck around as long as it took for them to get something from me. Sometimes it was the answers to the day’s homework. Sometimes it was because they wanted me to do their homework. And sometimes it was just a ploy to lure me into the latest form of humiliation that my classmates insisted on consistently inflicting on me.
But then, after college, after finishing up obtaining my third PhD, I finally made my way into the FBI and became part of a team where I had colleagues who, while maybe not fully understanding why I was the way I was, actually accepted, unique qualities and all. Though it took a while for them to stop seeing me as just a kid, I actually found several of them to start treating me in a way that seemed almost…friendly. Was it possible that I had actually found people who were finally going to stick around and truly be there for me?
Sure enough, it didn’t take long for them to start abandoning me one by one. And though I know I wasn’t the only one on the team affected by the departure of our fellow team members, I don’t think it was pure coincidence that every time I found myself finally feeling comfortable with someone, the day came all-too-soon when they were no longer on the team. And no longer in my life.
Elle was the first one. Though she took a bit for me to warm up to, I realized that we had a lot more in common than we may have initially believed. Like me, she also felt like she needed to prove herself to the rest of the team. While I was significantly younger than the rest of the team, eager to show them that I was more than “just a kid,” Elle was desperate to show the “boys’ club” that she was just as good at performing this job as any man who had been considered for her position. And honestly, I think she did the job better than most of the men who had been considered for her position (even though I did save her life during the train hostage situation, no matter what she’ll try to convince you).
But then, we met the Fisher King, a man consumed by an overwhelming amount of pain and grief, who sent the BAU on a twisted version of an Arthurian-style quest in an effort to save his only living daughter. In an unexpected twist of events, Elle wound up getting shot in her apartment, the one place where she was always supposed to feel safe. Though she (barely) survived, and though she took the allotted and required time off to heal and recuperate, she was never the same after. The chip on her shoulder had grown into a crevice, and though she repeatedly proclaimed that she was fine, the PTSD ran deeper than she had let on. I spoke to her that night. I knew she wasn’t fine. And yet, it was only after she shot and killed our potential unsub in cold blood that I finally said something. I often wonder, if I had spoken up sooner, would she maybe have stayed?
Gideon was the next one. I attached myself to him right away before I fully realized what I was doing. I don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the fact that, being the senior member of the team, he almost became like the father-figure I’d been missing for most of my life. Or maybe it was the fact that he was the first person to beat me at chess ever since I was six years old. Or it could be that he never missed an opportunity to correct people who insisted on calling me “Agent Reid.” (He knows that people see you as a kid and he wants them to respect you. That’s what Hotch had told me.) And let’s not forget the fact that he was the first person to whom I openly admitted that I was struggling with my dilauded addiction.
Gideon was a special case because I lost him, not once, but twice. The first time was nearly a decade ago. Something happened to someone Gideon cared about. He lost her in a brutal and horrific way. And no matter what we did or said, he never could come back from that. In a way, it had been time for him to leave for a while. Emily had tried to make me feel better by pointing out the fact that he left me a letter. No one else; just me. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. All the letter did was just prove to me that he felt I was important enough to receive a note, but not important enough to receive a decent good-bye. And when we made our way to his cabin seven years later to identify his body, my heart sunk as I realized that I never would get that chance back.
About three years ago, after Emily took on her new position working for Interpol in London, the BAU welcomed a rather skilled linguist to our team: Dr. Alex Blake. Similarly to Gideon, I found myself quickly and easily latching on to her, seeing her as both a colleague and almost like a motherly figure. And even though my mother is alive and well and even though I’ve been able to talk to her in the past, it had been a long time before I had been able to make a connection with her like I made with Blake. She was one of the few members on the team who was able to easily follow my fast-working thought process, and I think she may have been one of the only people I ever met who liked crossword puzzles as much as me.
What I didn’t realize, however, was that while I was viewing Blake almost as another motherly figure, she was actually seeing me as someone that she lost a long time ago. The truth about what had happened to her son finally came out after I nearly died myself. During a particularly violent shoot-out, a stray bullet managed to find its way into my neck. And as I lay there, steadily bleeding to death, Blake’s frantic voice was the one thing that broke through my subconscious. Ethan! Ethan! Though I know a big part of her reason for leaving was due to her desire to spend more time with her husband James, but I also knew that case hit her hard. Nearly losing me had sent her back to one of the worst days of her life. With tears sparkling in her eyes, she had smiled up at me and proclaimed, Ethan would have been a lot like you, before handing in her credentials and walking out of my apartment one last time.
Last year hit me the hardest of all, though. It was definitely a tough blow for the team as a whole when Morgan made the decision to end his stint at the BAU, but we all knew it was coming. After all, he’d just gotten married and his son had just been born. And after what he went through as a child following the death of his own father, it made sense that he wouldn’t want his child to have to grow up without a father of his own. And as much as I didn’t want him to leave, I knew that he needed to. I knew how important it was for him to be there for his son.
Hank Spencer Morgan. Named for his father and the best little brother anyone could ever ask for.
Here’s the thing about my relationship with Derek Morgan. If it hadn’t been for this job, it’s highly doubtful that someone like him would have ever become friends with someone like me. In fact, he was a lot like the kids in school who used to kick my ass on a daily basis. And when I did first start this job, I’ll admit, I was afraid of a repeat offense. And though he never did anything to me even remotely close to the torture I went through at school, he did never miss an opportunity to tease me and give me a hard time. And it wasn’t until a few years later, as our relationship began to grow, that I realized he was doing it out of love. He didn’t see me as the scrawny little nerd who was just asking to get the shit kicked out of him; he saw me as a younger brother who maybe just needed someone in his life to look out for him and take care of him. And not a day goes by that I wonder if he ever truly realized just how important he really truly was to me.
However, I didn’t think anything could ever be as horrible as what happened four years ago when I lost Maeve. I know I’ve talked about her before, probably to the point where people are getting sick of hearing about it. I mean, it’s not as though she was ever officially my girlfriend. It’s not as though we ever went on an actual date. Hell, I didn’t even see her face until four minutes before I watched her die in front of me. One minute, she was there, alive and beautiful and more perfect than I could ever have imagined a person could look. And the next minute, she was sprawled out on the concrete floor in front of me, her long, dark hair splayed out amongst the growing puddle of crimson beneath her head. And as I sank to that ground, crying myself into complete exhaustion, I doubted that I would ever truly recover from this. The first (and only girl) I’d ever truly loved was taken from me in the most horrific way I could ever imagine.
She left me. Just like everyone else.
I knew not to get attached in this place. I knew that no one here really wanted to be my friend. And, with any luck, I would be out of here in less than three months, and I would never have to see any of these people ever again. But try as I might, I couldn’t stop myself from growing attached to Luis. Like I said before, I saw a lot of myself in him. He was a young guy who had been thrust into a horrible situation. He had been seen as vulnerable and easily manipulated, just like I had been most of my life. And if it hadn’t been for Shaw on that first day, I would have been the one in his position. And after the events of yesterday, they’re going to be looking for someone to take over for him.
I was in the laundry room, same as every day before. Luis and I were midway through our shift. We were talking literature (despite what people may initially believe, Luis was quite a well-read young man) and I was actually finding that I was enjoying myself for one of the first times in this place. That is, until the drug lords decided to crash our party. One of them grabbed Luis by his hair while his friend held me back as I attempted to reach my new friend. Though we swore to them that we hadn’t told anyone anything about the movement of their product (I wouldn’t be a genius after all if I hadn’t learned my lesson from before), they needed to ensure that their message was getting across.
And that was when they slit Luis’s throat.
I don’t know how long I knelt on that laundry room floor, screaming until my voice was gone and my throat burned raw, my hands and shirt covered in blood as I attempted to staunch the wound on the young man’s neck. But I knew almost from the beginning that it was too late. I knew even before I heard him utter his last choked breath, or before his body finally stopped twitching and lay still, or before the prison doctor came in and covered his corpse with a sheet. I knew that he didn’t stand a chance. He made one very simple mistake: he got too close to me.
The prison wants me to attend some mandatory counseling. They’ve even told Emily about it, as she informed me during our visit this afternoon. She wanted to talk to me about it, trying to reassure me that they were here for me and that I could talk to her if I needed to. But I don’t need to talk to her. I don’t need to go to counseling. I don’t need someone to reassure me that things are going to be okay. I don’t need them to go over the psychology side of it. Don’t they know that I’m practically an expert in dealing with loss at this point. As I mentioned before, they say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
And as my life has consistently reminded me: eventually, everyone leaves.
Anonymous request for SpencerxReader in which the reader is becoming continually distracted by Reid’s face :)
Paperwork in itself is tedious. The repetitive filling out of the same blanks over and over and over can lull a person to sleep.
The monotony is torturous.
I much prefer the days when we’re on a case, out there chasing bad guys, working our minds, staying up all hours, stressing ourselves out, pushing and pushing until we solve a case. Save a life.
Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes we fail, sometimes the victim dies, sometimes the bad guy gets away. And on those days, I find myself yearning for the paperwork. They say the grass is always greener on the other side, right?
Bored by my paperwork, I looked up and caught sight of a concentrated Spencer Reid sitting at his desk across from me. His head was bent slightly down as he studied the page before him. A pen rested in his long fingers, and locks of wild curly hair fell across his forehead, casting shadow on bits of his smooth skin. His lips were slightly parted, and I watched as his tongue flickered out to wet them, as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, a habit of his when he’s focused. His nose twitched as he concentrated, his face crinkling slightly as he scribbled something onto whatever he was writing.
Spencer has a cute nose.
I shook my head and returned to my paperwork, filling out questions about where the case took place, how long we were there, what the role of my team was in which situation.
A few minutes later, I heard a soft sigh and glanced back up at Reid.
He was still concentrating, and small lines had appeared between his eyes. His lashes cast shadows onto his cheeks, light and delicate. I swallowed as I watched his pretty hazel eyes flicker to the top of the page. Forcing myself to tear my eyes away from Spencer Reid was becoming more and more difficult.
I managed to do it, though, forcing my eyes back to my own desk.
SSA Aaron Hotchner.
List of other team members?
Derek Morgan. David Rossi. Jennifer Jareau. Emily Prentiss. Penelope Garcia.
Right. Spencer Reid. I glanced back up at him. He was biting his lip again. I wondered what it would be like to do that myself.
What? Why am I thinking of biting Spencer Reid’s lip? I sighed, trying to pull myself together, and watched as Spencer brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip. How did anyone make drinking coffee look that sensual without even trying?
Okay. This was enough. I stood from my chair and leaded against Reid’s desk. He looked up at me, mild surprise and curiosity on his features.
“Hey,” he said.
“Spencer, you’re distracting me,” I said lowly.
“I am?” he asked hesitantly. “How?”
“You’re too damn attractive, and it’s distracting,” I sighed. He stared at me for a moment, and then smiled slightly.
“I would apologize, but I’m not sure there’s really anything I can do about that,” he said softly. I sighed and he laughed, returning to his paperwork, his cheeks just barely pink.
I looked over at him from my desk and sighed, knowing there was no hope.
Prompt/Summary: (couldn’t find the drabble request but it was something along these lines.) The reader and Spencer are both BAU agents who have been in a relationship for several years. while on a case the reader gets kidnapped. Spencer refuses to give up on the reader but with no leads and people constantly urging him to give up he reluctantly does. He moves on, until the reader is found and they fall in love again.
Trigger Warning: implied torture (never detailed), angst, not much else really.
Word Count: 1833
Multishot: if you want one?
Author’s note: i tried to stick with the prompt as much as possible but i had to tweak things here and there and it isn’t as long as i could have made it but, i didn’t want to end it on a cliffhanger and then me never have time to follow up. So i put it all into one story. I’m sorry if it’s bad, but feedback is always appreciated!
Do you think you
could write about how Ali finds it hard to tell her feelings towards Emily and
she just uses Johnny’s whisper machine at The Brew? Then, Emily somehow manages
to listen to that declaration of love and goes all the way to Ali’s house.
A/N: So i write again! This idea have been bugging me for a while so I had to write it down, and the blonde thing, I just have to put that in here. oh, and I have an ‘ask’ button on my page now, I’d loveto get some reviews for my writing, that keeps me going.
We, me and Morgan, were in a hospital, we were going to interview
the only living victim from our latest case. I introduced myself to the doctor,
“My name is Dr.—“ I stopped, she seemed really familiar, “(y/n)?”
“What? No, my name is Dr. (y/n) and your name should
be Dr. Spencer Reid,” she chuckled.
I threw my arms around her and
pulled her into a tight hug, “Oh God, I’ve missed you, (y/n),” I kissed the top
of her head.
I didn’t want to let go of her but,
“Hey, Kid, the hell is goin’ on here?” Morgan interrupted.
I pulled back from the hug, laughing,
“Sorry. Morgan, this is (y/n), my friend—“
“Only,” she winked, “At least until
you got the entire basketball team to worship you,”
“My only friend in high
school. (y/n), this is Derek Morgan, my co-worker,”
“What? I don’t know Pretty Boy got
a hot friend, why didn’t you introduce us sooner, Reid?” he mused and shook her
“Pretty Boy, huh?” she gave me an
amused look, “Well, I can’t say I disagree, you are pretty, but I can’t say the
same for your hair, though,”
“Well, if I know I would be seeing
you today, I would’ve gotten a haircut yesterday. And I’d love to introduce you
guys sooner, but she disappear three years, six month, and seventeen days after
we graduate, so I can’t actually do that. And she wasn’t even—” that hot.
Is ‘hot’ even the right term to describe her? I felt my face getting hot and I
could see Morgan laughing.
“Alright, I’m sure you two
gentlemen are not here to get to know me. So, how can I help you?” she saved me
from being Morgan laughingstock.
There are some questions I’d like
to ask her but she was right, we’re here to work, “We’d like to see James
Miller, he’s supposedly admitted here—“
hours ago, yeah, skull fracture, concussion, broken ribs, possible
retrograde-amnesia. Longest surgery I’ve ever went on. Hell, whatever happened
to that guy, I wish he’s got the amnesia or else he has to deal with PTSD and
that’s not fun. He’s in room 427, you guys can go there, I have to check on my
other patients,” she bid her goodbye and left us there.
An hour later we were already back
in the precinct. Reported back to the team what we found from the victim, which
is nothing, (y/n) was right, James miller got an amnesia from the torture he’d endured.
(y/n). God, how I’ve missed her. She was the one who kept me sane in high
school. Twelve years I never heard from her. After we graduated high school, we
kept our line of communication, we call each other, we send letters, we meet up
in parks whenever we were back in Vegas on our college breaks. And then out of
nowhere the calls stopped, the letters never came to my hands, no more—
“…. Reid? You heard me?” I heard
Hotch voice from afar.
“Spence, you’re okay?” JJ piped up.
“What? I—uh, yeah, I, I’m okay,
sorry I zoned out. What did you say?”
“I want you to work on the
geographical profile,” Hotch said.
“Reid, you sure you’re okay? You seem
different, what happen at the hospital?” Emily turned her head from me to
“Pretty Boy got himself a girl, a
hot one I might add,” Morgan grinned
from ear to ear.
“WHAT?” Emily and JJ spoke in
“I know you got that in you, Kid,”
“Oh my god, Reid got a girl. What’s
her name, Boy Wonder, I have to check on her background, to make sure she isn’t
a serial killer or something,” Garcia giggled, I didn’t even know Garcia was
listening over the phone.
fine. She’s not my girlfriend, and don’t look for her information, Garcia, she’s
not a serial killer,” I left and asked
an officer to give me a state-wide map and worked on the geographical profile.
“Garcia, pull out the names of male
in his late thirties to mid forties, who owns silver sedan,”
“It’s still a long list, Boss. How
do I narrow it down?”
“Narrow it to people who live
within two miles radius from the park where all the bodies were found,” I
“Reid, hey! I’ve checked all women
who works at that hospital and this far no one has suspicious background, I can
dig deeper if you just give me her name, because my Chocolate Thunder won’t
“Garcia,” Hotch interrupted, thank
God, she could go all day if he didn’t stop her.
“Right, I’m sorry, Sir. So I’ve
narrowed it down and I got two names who fit your profile, Adam Harris and Joe
Robinson. Before you ask, the addresses already in your phones,”
“Thanks, Garcia. Dave, you take
Reid and JJ to the first house, the rest we’ll go to the second,” Hotch said as
he put on his bulletproof vest
The ride to the address was quiet,
we got a call from Morgan telling us they’re heading to our address as well,
they went to the second address and it was clear, the house was empty, looked
like no one lived there in the past month.
When we entered the house, we knew
we got the right house, we were in the unsub’s house. The house was a mess. There
were some blood spatter on the floor and walls. “Adam Harris, FBI,” Rossi
stated, “We know you’re angry at Ronald Parker because your wife left you and
chose him over you. But killing people who look like him won’t do you any good.
If you give yourself up we’ll go easy on you,”
“And what’s in that for me, anyway?
I’ve already killed those men, giving up or not I’ll go to jail anyway,” there
he was, the unsub, he’s got a gun. And then I found myself laying on the
ground. I felt cold. That’s when I realized I got shot. Right above my
“Spence! Spencer! Look at me, open
your eyes,” JJ came into view and mumbled. Why was she mumbling?
an agent down, we need medic,” I heard Rossi’s voice. Why did he sound so far
Then everything went dark.
I opened my eyes slightly, blinded
by the lights, I closed my eyes again. I was in a hospital. “Spence, you’re
awake?” JJ’s voice, I nodded. “Good. I’ll get the doctor,” I saw the rest of my
team sitting across the room, eating takeouts.
JJ came back with the doctor, (y/n),
a few minutes later, “Hello again, Doctor Reid,” she mused. I returned her
greetings and didn’t say anything. We spent a good few minutes in silence when
she checked on my vitals. I could feel eyes on me, my team’s, but I didn’t
mind. I took time to look at her face.
“So where is your white
hair?” I touched her now-brown hair, brushed it away from her face. She was
done checking my vitals. She told me I could leave in a few hours.
“It was platinum blonde,
duh,” she laughed, “And I still am a blondie, just not at work. Why? You have a
‘thing’ for blondie now?” I flushed. Now that I think about it, maybe I do have
a ‘thing’ for women with blonde hair, all of my past crushes were blonde, not
that there were many, but Lila Archer, JJ, Ashley Seaver all have blonde hair.
Maeve had red hair, yes, but I didn’t know that when I got closer to her, and I
was interested in her mind I didn’t even think about her appearance. “Oh
my God, you are! You’re blushing!” (y/n)’s voice startled me, “I was joking but
you actually have a ‘thing’ for blondie,” she bursted out laughing with my team
“Hilarious, (y/n),” I tried to mask
my embarassment by trying to sound stern, and failed, stern didn’t fit
“Sorry, but, let me ask you this,
did you really missed me that much so you decided to be my patient?”
“You make it sounds like I got shot
on purpose, (y/n),”
“Reid, you’re not gonna introduce
us to your girl?” Emily spoke.
“Oh, like Morgan didn’t just tell
you what happen yesterday when we met (y/n),” I mused, “This is (y/n), my high
school friend. (y/n), these are my co-worker, my team, you’ve met Morgan and
JJ, Jennifer Jareau, I mean, the rest is Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, and Aaron
“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys, and
David Rossi, I read all of your books, you’re a great writer, you should write
more,” she smiled.
After a few minutes of getting to
know each other—my team basically bombarded (y/n) with questions—they said
goodbye and went to the hotel, left me in the hospital with (y/n). “So, what do
you say we get dinner together?” I asked her.
“I usually don’t take my patient’s
“Then discharge me, so I’m no
longer your patient, please?” she didn’t say anything, so I tried again, “I’ll
get a haircut,” I put on my hopeful face.
“Then I’ll be a blondie,” she
replied with a smile.
J2 missed their cue and came out early, so they are bantering for Rob.
They congratulate Emily who won the fanvid award - video was of Sam and Dean.
Boys leave so they can come back out to the music and to redo their cue lol.
Crowd raises glow sticks and chants Always Keep Fighting. Jensen starts filming it.
Jensen talks about the brother video that was shown at the convention. His eyes were welling up because of emotional brother scenes; seeing them brings back the emotion.
Jared thinks we should all watch an episode of Supernatural together. He’d love to watch The French Mistake or an emotional one.
When they watch an ep, Jared describes watching Jensen watch Dean and his face shows whatever emotion Dean has on screen, he can see Jensen returning to that head-space.
Jared: Are you calling me baby? Jensen: Oh baby.
Jared hates when the writers put in scripts when Sam should cry. He knows when it should happen, and it does.
“Sam is my friend and has great hair.”
Jared teases Jensen by poking him. Jensen jokes: “10 years of this crap.”
They don’t have to think of sad things anymore to do emotional scenes like they did for Heart. It comes naturally.
Jensen: We’re so in tune with these characters we feel their emotions.
Jared wants Zachary Levi on the show. Someone suggests Donald Trump, Jared: We had Donald Trump. His name was Dick Roman.
Jared wants Danneel to be on the show. Jensen suggests Michael Rosenbaum.
Message from Richard: Only Supernatural could keep him from a Supernatural convention!
Jared: If my character from Gilmore Girls was on SPN he’d look at Jensen and go, “You’re kinda short for a Dean.”
Did he know the Winchesters started the apocalypse?! - Jared on Jensen’s character Alec from Dark Angel when Jensen said Alec would do well in the Supernatural world.
If Jessica didn’t die, what would Sam be doing? Jared: Trying to expunge Dean’s records for credit card fraud, etc, saving him from various felonies.
Jensen: If Sam had gone to Stanford Dean would be in jail.
Jared tried to hug Jensen. Jensen leans away. Jared gives up. Jensen leans in. Jared tries again. Jensen leans away lol.
Fan asks if “so get this” is Sam’s catchphrase. Jared offers up, “according to the lore…” as an option. Says “I lost my shoe” would be his catchphrase.
Would they consider LARPing? Jared spent his childhood going to renaissance festivals. He says leather pants are difficult to move in. Jensen recites odd costumes that he’s been put in (like the lederhosen.)
Danneel is a renaissance fair junkie who has in recent years forced Jensen to slightly dress up.
Jared says that the year Supernatural is over.. Jensen: 2042 Jared: He will dress up as Boba Fett for Comic Con.
Why do they torture Misha on set? J2 know not to prank each other. Jensen says it’s fun to pick on the new guy and Misha is still “the new guy.”
Jared: We always have that mischief in our body.
Jensen says there is no form of Sam he would want to play because Jared has taken care of that already. Though, he was jealous of Lucifer material Jared got. He says that Jared played the white suit Lucifer!Sam perfectly.
Jared drops his mic. Jensen: This is why we can’t have nice things.
What’s the last lie you told? Jared: Every day I tell myself I don’t have to write it down to remember it. Jensen: Told Jared he looked great backstage.
Jared chooses season 4 as his favorite. Jensen would probably agree. They also love season 8.
They want William Shatner on the show.
Sam and Dean being up against a wall is what people relate to. Despite supernatural scale of SPN, Jared feels that the struggles of story are universal.
Are we going to have an incubus or succubus on the show? Jensen: Maybe a VW bus? (Drum plays) Jensen: I still got it.
Jared’s favorite parts of the show are the relationships and the family that has been built.
Jensen jokes that a con was Misha.
J2 talked the other night after work about how they’ll never have anything like this again.
Jensen lists important relationships that Jared got from spn: Says Jared met his wife and his role model (Jensen points to himself.)
Jared: you can’t recreate this. We have family from the show. And all of you guys.
Asked about kid stories. Jared gets emotional talking about Tom and the t-rex on the slide.
Jensen tells story about implementing time out rule on JJ now. She enjoys it lol. “Do you need to go to time out?!” JJ: “Ok!”
Someone took pics of the Padaboys without shoes on outside and Gen saw them online and got mad at Jared for not putting them on lol.
Football positions? “Sam would definitely be a tight end” - Jared. Jensen: Nope, I’m not gonna laugh at that.
Jensen said Sam and Cain should be quarterbacks and they can have a hair-off. Dean and Crowley would be running backs.
Jensen: Charlie and Rowena would be the coaches because “women really call the shots.”
Jared whispered something to Jensen that made Jensen bend over laughing for a while :))
The advancement of technology gives them a lot more freedom in making the show.
Jensen says the fans inspire them. Jared says the idea of SPN is reaching out and helping others and he loves to see fandom doing the same.
Pick up lines? Jared: I lost my number, can I have yours? Jensen: Hi, I’m Jared Padalecki.
Last question: If Cas needed a new vessel would Sam or Dean allow him to use them. Jensen: NO. Jared: Sam has had bad experiences being possessed. Jensen says “my bad” (referring to Gadreel.) Finally say they could stick Cas in Baby if he was dying and needed a vessel “so they wouldn’t have to look at him.”
End of panel, Jensen sings and Jared plays the cowbell.
What is Dishonored about, really? (Like I can read the blurb on steam, but that doesn't tell me about why it is Amazing.)
Oh boy, where do I start. In the original game you are playing as Corvo, the personal bodyguard to Empress Jessamine—your implied lover—and you are returning to Dunwall from a secret mission which only you could be trusted with. Upon your return the Spy Master Burrows—who is encouraging Jessamine to basically slaughter the plague victims and wall up the city—remarks that he’s surprised by your arrival, seen as how you’re three days early. You don’t get to interact with him over this as he saunters off, presumably to be creepy somewhere else. Once you hand Jessamine your report, she gives a brief account of how the plague is killing the entire city, and how no one is willing to help them. At which point Princess Emily, your implied mutual daughter says “why are there men on the roof?” And that’s when the magical assassins come rippling out of the air, holding you back with magic, making you watch as Jessamine is murdered and Emily stolen into thin air. As you’re dropped to the ground you reach for the dying Empress who begs you to find Emily, before dying in your arms. At that moment the Spy Master and High Overseer Capmbell—sort of like the Arch Bishop of Dunwall—come rushing up with some guards, yelling that you have killed the Empress. You get taken down by a blow to the head, and the title screen comes up—Dishonored.
After that you awaken in prison, being tortured by Burrows and Campbell, who want to make you sign a confession admitting that your murdered Jessamine and stole Emily. You do not, and are sentenced to execution. The night before your execution however, a guard slips a key through your door, telling you it comes from a friend. You escape your cell, and this is where your choice as a player begins, either to carve your way through the rest of the game like a butcher, or sneak your way past guardsmen, merely doing their job. This becomes known as your chaos level. You escape, and are taken to a safe house and introduced to a group of people calling themselves Loyalists who believe in your innocence and want to find Emily and put her back on the throne. After this segment ends you go to bed and wake up in the Void, summoned there by a God known as The Outsider. The best way I can describe him is a cross between Loki and Cthulhu, but devoid of any actual evil. He’s just chaos, raw and ageless, watching the universe tick by with detached boredom. Occasionally something interesting happens, or to be more precise, an interesting someone happens and he hones in on them, offers them incredible power, then sits back to see what they do with it. Will they use it for good, or more likely, will they use it for evil. He also gives you a ‘gift’ of a beating heart which breathes secrets into your ear and helps you along your way. (spoiler alert, it’s Jessamine’s heart, this is why everyone in the fandom who read my first chapter of Sweet Music and the line about the heart tried to murder me, and are still trying to murder me for not updating it)
There’s various missions, all of them geared toward finding Emily, each with multiple means of completing the goal, some of them are intense and dramatic, others are just cracktastic (Lady Boyle’s mansion anyone?). The real genius in the game however, is in the subtle ways in which the characters change and react towards you, based on your chaos level. If you are a one man rampage, the world becomes more hostile toward you, the game becoming harder and harder to complete as more guards are stationed to try and curb your slaughter, and more plague rats breed, feasting on the corpses you leave behind. People react to you with fear too, and lose sight of their own morality. Which is incredibly evident in Emily, who once you find her latches on to you as her emotional guide. If you’re committing acts of murder left right and center, she will think that brutality is the only way to survive and be made harsh by it, her childlike drawings devolving into nightmare death scenes, her behavior erratic. If however you glide through the world only ever occasionally bonking someone on the head and find them a nice spot to sleep it off, the world is quieter, there’s less panic in the streets, and Emily will remain playful and childlike, drawing sweet pictures for you, including one that says “daddy”.
I wont ruin the finale for you, but lets just say your actions greatly impact how it all ends. Either Emily will become a good, wise ruler because you have shown her that good men can change the world, or she will know nothing but bloodshed, the need to be feared, and the chaos never ends. Of course, there’s also the third ending, where you can literally stand back and watch the world burn, listening to her scream your name for help as she falls to her death. (needless to say that final one is not canon, since Emily is the protagonist of the long awaited second game)
In the DLC you play as Daud, the assassin who murdered the Empress, and that is also interesting, and is affected by how you play the game as Corvo. Daud you see, regrets killing Jessamine, and is doing all he can to help save Emily from another unknown threat. Like Corvo, he is gifted powers by the Outsider, and like Corvo, his actions will dictate the outcome of the game, far more than any other game I’ve ever played that boasts a moral ranking system. Daud’s segment ends with a face-off with Corvo, and depending on how you played as Corvo, Daud will either live or die, regardless of how ‘good’ Daud’s actions have been in his dlc content. (I believe it is now canon, that he lives, but my god that moment when you fall from the roof and into the water bleeding out with Corvo standing over you is amazing)
There;s some other really amazing NPC characters with really rich and diverse history. I’m basically just in love with the whole thing and cannot wait for the second game.
Also the fandom is like 90% crack and unbridled emotional meltdown. It’s kind of great in a “I hate myself and want to hurt everyone with feels” sort of way…but then I’ve been told I have a particularly mean streak at writing angst fic *grin*