#(I'm the one that decided to tear into Morgan's throat)

[luciantapes]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[fuckingstrange]

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

| Day20: Irritated |

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

WARNINGS: Narrowly avoiding a meltdown, accidental shouting, caring!reader, brief mention of Accidentally Mean!Morgan

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

WORDS: 987

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

PAIRING: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

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

Reid's version of This fic from Day11 and inspired by the gif

The genius is vulnerable to getting overwhelmed and mad too, just like every mf working as much as he do

No fucking joke, had to remake this twice and I'm so mad.

Reid walks into the apartment, shutting it a bit harsher than he meant to. He takes a second to pace around the living room, his head feeling like it's spinning. It's dark out, and last he checked the clock it said it was one in the morning. He runs his hands through his hair, resisting the urge to tug it from how frustrated he is.

He kneels down, practically trembling from how riled up he is. He can feel a meltdown wanting to take over, tears springing at his eyes as he buries his head into the carpet like some puppy getting punished for pissing indoors. He doesn't know how he got so frustrated, only that the teasing comments from Morgan was the last straw.

Reid waits until his trembling dies down, the fact that he curled in on himself and hid his face in the carpet having managed to soothe him a bit, feeling hidden from the prying eyes he swears he can feel through the walls of his apartment. He stands back up, the frustration still lingering enough that he harshly tugs off his tie, ripping it off from over his head and tossing it on the couch. He decides to put his face in his hands, taking a couple deep breaths to try and calm down the lingering tension.

Just as he feels like he's calm, his phone rings in his pocket. He nearly sobs as all the anger and irritation just comes right back as it vibrates in his pocket, his hands moving to pull it out and answer the call, pushing it to his ear and shouting “Why the fuck are you calling me!?” to whoever is on the other end.

Your eyes widen at his yelling, leaning back in your chair and clearing your throat. “It's just me, baby. I wanted to know if you wanted me to get some Thai delivered to you, I won't be home in time for us to eat together unless you're fine with eating at like four in the morning.” You say, tone gentle in contrast to his harsh one. Your voice, even though gentle, over the phone makes Reid just get even more pissed off. “I'm not hungry.” He practically growls, clenching the phone so tightly his hand trembles and his knuckles turn white.

You lightly nod your head, remembering he can't really see your nonverbal responses, you just reassure him “Okay. That's alright. If you get hungry just text me and I can get something delivered for you-” You say, getting cut off as he delivers a harsh shout, saying “I'm a grown man, I can feed myself!”. Reid feels guilty for yelling at you, but he can't help it, the guilt only fueling his rage. “..I know you are. But, I know you didn't feel the best today. Morgan pushed it a bit too far. It's not my place to apologize for him, but I can apologize for you having to go through that.” Your gentle words of understanding seem to help Reid calm down a bit.

He falls to sit on the couch with a groan, moving to massage his temple with his thumb. “Y-yeah.” He chokes out, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. “He was too.. he took it too far.” You can only hum in response, asking “wanna talk about it?” In the least pressuring tone you can grasp. It's silent for a minute, neither of you speaking. Reid eventually croaks out a small “I don't know why he treats me like that.”.

His pained voice nearly breaks your heart, and you look down at the paper you're stuck at work from sitting on your desk, more than half of it done. You weigh your options, deciding to stay on the phone with Reid as you pack up, putting the files in your bag to finish before work tomorrow. “Morgan just can't see when you get uncomfortable. You're pretty good at hiding it, baby. I'm not trying to defend him or scold you, but we should work on getting you to use your words more.” You explain, the reassurance that you're not scolding him helps Reid calm down a bit more. “Yeah.. I'll, uh.. be more communicative in the future.” He mumbles in response.

You stay on the phone with Reid, letting him vent about the day, hearing when something triggers him and makes him talk a bit harsher, and hearing the positive impact your intake on the issues have as he loosens up a bit more. You don't tell him that you're on the way home, deciding to stop by the Thai place to get some takeout you offered him earlier, knowing he probably is hungry and just wasn't able to pay attention to his needs from how overwhelmed he was with the anger.

You wait until you're walking up the steps to his apartment to say, “Hey, I'm outside. I'll be right there.”, waiting until he hangs up to put your phone in your pocket. You reach the door, and Reid opens it before you can even knock. He immediately wraps his arms around you, head tucking into your shoulder as he mumbles a “welcome home”. You just smile, kissing the top of his head as you guide him backwards back inside, into the living room and setting the takeout down before you wrap your arms around him to return the embrace. He looks at the food, eyes lighting up. “I knew you'd be hungry. Thai.” You whisper, motioning to the bag.

Reid smiles at you, pulling you to sit on the couch with him. You each immediately begin to dig in, hungry as fuck after having such a shitty and long day at the bureau.

[myeuphoricmindset]

Haunted by you — Eddie Munson

Chapter two

chapter one & tags/warnings — here

masterlist

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

➴ ➴ ➴

Perhaps her childhood visit to the bright white hospital with the grippy socks wasn't a mistake. This is the very reason they sent her away- because she saw people who weren't really there. But that was years ago; she was just a kid with a wild imagination and a talent for making up stories, or maybe that's what they made her believe. There hasn't been an encounter since, until now.

Daisy's gaze remained fixed on the man perched casually on her kitchen counter. The last remaining tear on Daisy's face falls as she stares blankly at him.

He said her name.

He's dead

He said her name.

He said her name.

And he's dead.

Trying to process all of this at once has given her a pounding headache. Daisy found herself teetering between laughter and continued tears. However, one thing she was certain of was her name lingered in the air between them. Her breath caught in her throat, and terror coursed through her at the way her name rolled off this stranger's lips.

"How do you know my name? Are you some sort of stalker?" Daisy's voice quivered with unease, but she found it simpler to ask this than to confront the perplexing notion that he is dead. All of this felt absurd, even ludicrous.

"No," he chuckled, then shook his head, his brown eyes reflecting concern as he observed her growing fear. "God, no."

He began to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender, but then a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he pointed at her, his brows furrowing.

"How could I be a stalker when you're in my house?"

"Stop avoiding my question. How do you know who I am?"

"Well, the officer said it. Ms. Daisy Morgan." He looks at her, his eyes trailing over her face.

The terror still courses through her veins, but as she looks at him longer he doesn't seem like a threat. His eyes radiate warmth, and even his tone, though tinged with sarcasm, carries a playful vibe. Besides, if he had bad intentions, wouldn't he have acted on them by now?

But then, there's that nagging worry: He could be one of those psychopaths that starts friendly, making you believe he's harmless and then he ends up cutting your limbs into tiny pieces and burying them in the backyard like a dog with a bone.

The stranger casually taps his chin, as though something suddenly came to mind, capturing Daisy's focus.

"Oh, and I know your name from Grace. That's your mom right?" He adds, though he appears to be well aware of the answer.

Daisy's stomach plummets.

He knows her name. He knows Grace. He knows how to get into this house. Questions bubble up ready to pop.

"You know —knew Grace?"

He shrugs, "We were roommates for a time. Although, she couldn't stand me. Even tried calling the priest to remove me." He shakes his head as he chuckles.

Daisy stares at him in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"I'm not bullshitting you," He gracefully slides off the counter, appearing unfazed. "The guy walked around throwing fucking holy water into the air. I mean, I hadn't been that entertained in years, so I quite enjoyed the performance."

He casually brushed his black jeans, as though the counter wasn't already spotless. Daisy couldn't help but wonder if he was a product of her imagination. But he moved and acted too real. She could feel his laugh within her chest and hear her name on his lips, making her whole body react. It's beginning to freak her out.

In an attempt to validate reality, she decides to employ a familiar tactic she had used in the past. Her strategy is simple: assign him a name. If she were to ask about his name and it differed from the one she had crafted in her thoughts, then she would find herself, well, let's just say she would be fucked. The silver lining is that it would confirm her sanity. However, the downside is that she would be faced with the disconcerting truth that she was, indeed, talking with a ghost. Either way, it was an unsettling situation.

Now, who does he look like?

Daisy studies the man before her, who persists on recounting his encounter with a priest. He is handsome, the pretty kind. The kind that might make others feel self-conscious. Because, who looks like that, anyway? His skin is flawlessly smooth, his curls look soft and fall just right, and his eyes are captivatingly deep brown. Brown isn't a special color, but the way it looks in his eyes makes you believe that it is. He carries himself with an effortless blend of confidence and ease, even as his words are often laced with sarcasm and playfulness.

Choosing a name is tough, but just to keep things simple, she goes with the first name that comes to mind: Joseph.

Daisy cuts in, her curiosity piqued, "What's your name?"

He looks down at her, "Oh, damn. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Eddie,"

Eddie. Not Joseph. Damn it.

He extends his hand for a handshake, but his gesture doesn't quite sit well with Daisy. Is he trying to be funny? Does he find this situation humorous?

Daisy isn't finding it amusing at all.

Clutching onto a fragile strand of hope that things might not be as they seem, Daisy cautiously raises her hand to meet his. His head tilts ever so slightly, assessing her, and their brown eyes locked as they await her next move.

He looks real, which shakes Daisy's convictions to their core. His chest rises and falls, his eyes blink, and his lips curve into a genuine smile. All too real.

"I'm not going to hurt you. If that is what you are worried about," he reassures her.

She didn't know what to expect, but the cold sensation against her palm just before her hand moved through his was not it.

"Well, shit. I was really hoping things would be different." He groans and leans back against the kitchen counter, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Different?"

"People usually don't see me. So, why can you?"

Daisy shrugs, feeling completely lost. How could she know? Right now, nothing makes sense. Frustrated, she gets to her feet, still feeling dazed.

"Listen," she says with a sigh, glancing around as if hoping her thoughts will magically clear up. "Maybe you should go haunt someone or something else. I can't handle... whatever this is. I need to go to bed and wake up with a clear head."

"No can do," he replies casually, making his way into the living room.

"W-what do you mean, 'can't do'?"

Daisy follows him, observing as he drums his fingers on the couch while walking toward the record player.

"She never played this, you know," he mentions, lifting an Etta James record and giving it a once-over. "Our music tastes, well," he hesitates briefly, exhaling softly, "weren't exactly similar, but it would've been nice to hear something. The house felt as lifeless as she was." He glances at Daisy, his expression slightly pained. "Sorry," He places the record sleeve back on the table.

Daisy shrugs it off. But, she does takes note that he can pick up things, which is odd because he can't even touch her. But it's not worth dwelling on. None of this matters. She just needs to usher this ghost boy out and get some sleep.

"Alright, Come on," she says, walking past him and holding the front door open.

Eddie's brow arches, and she can see him suppressing a smile, which irritates her. "It was a pleasur—well, not really. But you've had your spooky visit, so you can head back to hell or wherever you came from."

He chuckles, "Hell? Do I look like I belong there?"

She points at his shirt, giving him a sharp look.

Eddie's gaze drops to his shirt, bearing the words "Hellfire Club," and he erupts into laughter. His laughter reverberates through the otherwise silent home, perhaps the only laugh to echo within these walls since they were built.

Daisy, however, remains unamused, her eyes locked onto him.

Eddie glances at his wrist, checking his watch, and takes in a sharp breath. "You're right," he concedes, "I should head back to the club I manage in Hell. Got a lot of work waiting for me." He briefly meets her gaze before making his way toward the front door. "The devil really depends on me. Can't let him down."

"Good luck with that," Daisy replies, avoiding eye contact as she widens the door for his departure.

"Thank you, I'll need it."

Eddie steps outside, a smile lingering on his face, and Daisy wastes no time in closing the door. She releases a heavy sigh and leans her back against the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over her. But before she can fully let go of the weight on her shoulders, Eddie's voice shatters her moment.

"Fuck, I got my days mixed up. Hellfire doesn't meet until Tuesdays."

Daisy lets out a piercing scream as she notices Eddie's head protruding through the door, his body seemingly absent or on the other side. Whatever she's witnessing, it's absolutely terrifying.

"What the fuck!" She stumbles back, clutching the banister for support.

Eddie laughs as he casually walks through the door. No, not around it, but right through it. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"Screw you," Daisy hisses.

"That's fair."

"Go away! Seriously," Daisy stands taller, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She takes a step forward, locking eyes with him. "I don't want you here," she says, her words deliberate and harsh.

Eddie's gaze softens, and his jaw tenses as he steps back. "If I could go, I would've left years ago. But I'm stuck here. So, you'll either have to deal with it or leave."

Leave? If only.

The reality is that she can't leave, and she doesn't want to stay. But she has to. There is nowhere for her to go. To make matters worse, she's utterly exhausted. If she were to lie down, even on the floor, she might fall asleep. Her eyelids feel as heavy as her heart.

"I have nowhere to go," Daisy admits softly.

They lock eyes, silence stretching between them. Something in his gaze begins to dissolve her anger. He's giving her those lost puppy eyes, and it's infuriatingly unfair. Why should she care if he's sad or hurt? She's only just met the guy. But she's not cruel; she still has a heart, even if it's shattered into a million pieces.

Eddie frowns. "Well, me neither. So, I guess we are stuck with each other."

Daisy's gaze drops, and she scolds herself for feeling a twinge of sympathy and for being harsh with him.

"So, what, you really are..."

"Dead? Yeah," Eddie replies casually.

It's sinking in, but not quite. Honestly, how does one even begin to grasp what's happening here? So, Daisy doesn't try to make sense of it. She accepts it, as if it's no big deal that she's standing here conversing with a ghost. It's the simplest way to cope and prevent a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Cool," Daisy says, sounding as stupid as she feels.

"Cool?" Eddie looks amused. "Well, okay then. Uh, should I show you to your room?"

"Wait, are you like... the dead butler?"

Eddie stifles a laugh as he rubs his face. "Don't you think I'd be wearing a suit or whatever butlers wear?"

"Yeah, you're right. Butlers definitely don't wear... that."

"That? What do you mean? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie responds in a defensive yet playful tone.

Daisy sidesteps his question and grabs her bag. "So, this way?" She points upstairs and starts making her way up.

"Wait, no. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie calls after her.

Daisy reaches the top of the stairs, where the hallway splits into two directions. She pauses, uncertain of which way to go. Eddie catches up, still muttering about her previous comment, but she interrupts him. "Which one isn't haunted by the ghost of my mother?"

"Oh, no. Grace isn't here. At least, I haven't seen her."

"Yeah, I'm sure she would have made her presence known by now." she says, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, I see. Mommy issues?"

Daisy shoots him a glare, and Eddie's lips tighten before he clears his throat. "Her room was downstairs, in case you were worried."

"I'm not worried, just curious," she replies, raising her chin.

"Mhm."

She rolls her eyes once more and pivots on her heel, heading for the room at the end of the hallway. Before she opens the door, she looks back at him. "Should I be concerned that you're going to watch me sleep?"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie mutters, making his way back down the stairs. "Go to bed, Daisy." With the next step, he vanishes.

Daisy stands in the doorway, gazing at the stairs, doing her best to process her bizarre reality. Deciding not to dwell on it, she closes the door and flops onto the king-sized bed.

════ ⋆Eddie⋆ ════

Eddie gracefully glides into the dim, empty room below, with only the moonlight filtering through the windows. Yet, he doesn't require light, for he resides within the shadows.

There it is, or rather, there she is, sitting gracefully in the alcove, framed on a wall adorned with colors he's memorized over the years.

Daisy's brown hair appears duller, her eyes seemingly lacking depth now that he's met her face to face. It's now evident that Grace painted this from a photograph, not from her memory. She failed to capture Daisy's true beauty.

God, she was beautiful.

The house seems quiet to the average ear, but Eddie hears everything—the gentle brush of the wind against the windows, the slow drip of the upstairs bathroom sink, and the constant, distant tapping, a reminder that he's trapped in the in-between worlds.

He's grown accustomed to these sounds. What he wasn't accustomed to was the soft crying from the room just above him. An ache forms in his chest at the sound of Daisy's cries, a physical sensation he hasn't felt in years.

Maybe it's because he hasn't spoken with someone in an unhealthy amount of time, or perhaps it's because he feels compelled to care for this girl, having admired her on the wall for so long. He worries he might be the cause of her tears. But, from the moment she entered the house, it was evident she was upset about something, which eased his pain slightly, suggesting he might not be the cause. Yet, it awakens an old, familiar emotion—anger.

Who could have hurt her?

None of this should concern him. He doesn't truly know her. Loneliness and sadness within his mind have led him to create ideas and versions of a girl he's never met.

Shame and disgust wash over him, especially when he contemplates how she can see him and whether she might find a way to set him free from this house. The thought terrifies him, yet it also provides him with hope.

But how could he even begin to entertain such thoughts while she cries herself to sleep? He turns away from the moonlit painting, closes his eyes, and vanishes into the shadows.

┗━━━ chapter three coming soon ━━━┛

Taglist: @tlclick73, @eddiemunson4life420 @boxofsmittens @sweet-villain @all-time-otaku @enam3l @steveoswhore

Comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

[pigeonwhumps]

Knife to the throat

MD-264N masterlist

Febuwhump day 4: knife to the throat

@febuwhump

Note: For avoidance of confusion over pronouns, Blue is genderfluid, and is using he/him pronouns in this piece. This takes place a couple of weeks after Flinching.

Blue accidentally triggers Morgan's conditioning, with Rhian as the target.

771 words

CWs: dehumanisation, self-dehumanisation, conditioned whumpee, living weapon whumpee, held at knifepoint, bad caretaker (one of them), caretaker new whumper, gun

"Morgan, put the knife down," says Rhian softly, hand in the air, trying to avoid cutting their throat on the sharp knife held against it.

She silently curses Blue. She and Morgan had been talking, and then Blue had barged in, not even looking at Morgan, and said something to Rhian. Rhian's not sure what it was now, it's not important, but some part of it triggered Morgan.

And now Rhian has a knife at their throat and Blue, the idiot, is pointing his gun at Morgan. As if any of this is Morgan's fault.

"Blue, put the gun down, please."

"Not while the weapon's an active threat."

Rhian closes her eyes, praying for patience. "Morgan. Please, put the weapon down. It's only Rhian, I'm not going to hurt you."

Morgan's arm trembles slightly but it doesn't waver, their gaze blank. They've entirely been taken over by their conditioning.

Rhian hears the click of Blue's gun. "For the love of god, Blue, don't you fucking dare shoot them."

"It's a tranquilliser. And I won't let you get knifed in the throat."

Well, at least Morgan won't die if he shoots. She decides to try a different method.

"Sweetheart. It's Rhian. There's no danger, nothing to attack. I don't want you to attack. Let go, sweetheart." Morgan trembles harder, tears welling. Clearly, no-one's tested their conditioning by being kind before. But it's not working enough. Rhian swallows. There must be a phrase to stop it. What would they say in the military? What did the guards used to say, in the mandatory exercise yard at the re-education centre, during their escape, every time they wanted something to stop?

Stand down. Stand down, student 7583, or I'll shoot. Shoot to kill, no prisoners.

Rhian breathes out shakily and hardens her tone, imitating the guards easily after all the practice she's had.

"Stand down. Morgan, stand down." That doesn't work. She grimaces. "MD-264N, stand down."

Morgan drops the knife immediately, hand swinging down, and Rhian steps forward, shielding them from Blue. "I'm going to touch you, Morgan, don't panic." She takes another step forward, and once Morgan's within arm's reach she reaches out, pulling them into a tight hug. "Come back to me, sweetheart, come on. You're Morgan, remember?" Morgan shudders. "That's it. You're doing it. Come on, sweetheart, I've got you. You're doing so well."

Morgan gasps, clutching Rhian's upper arms tightly as their knees start to buckle. "This weapon is– it is–"

"Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe."

Morgan takes a deep breath, copying Rhian. "This weapon is malfunctioning. Its eyes are leaking and its heart rate is still increasing and–"

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. That's okay, I'm not mad, not gonna correct you. Just breathe, concentrate on calming down. Blue messed up, you did nothing wrong, it's okay. It's okay to cry, sweetheart. You're not leaking, you're crying, and that's okay."

Morgan looks helplessly at Rhian for a second and then throws themself forward, burying their head in her chest, shaking with sobs. Rhian's breath catches at the look in their eyes, the speed at which they threw themself at her for comfort.

"Hey sweetheart."

"I, it is sorry, it apologises, this weapon injured you and it is displaying aberrant behaviour, it is so sorry, it–"

"Shh, you're okay. The cut doesn't hurt anymore, it's not even bleeding. Cry all you like, let it out. Yeah? You're okay, you're safe."

They clutch Morgan tightly, hearing Blue's footsteps finally fade down the corridor. Morgan's so distressed, Blue was so quick to act that Rhian suspects he's nowhere near trusting them yet, and Rhian herself is still shaken. It's the first time they've really appreciated that their friend was an actual weapon, the first time since Morgan woke that they've thought that way about them. If someone ordered Morgan to, even by accident, they could do a hell of a lot of damage.

Rhian doesn't believe they ever would of their own free will. They were wavering even with the conditioning today. But still. It's a hell of a lot of training (torture) to put someone through, to make them react like that to a few words. She didn't realise it was so thorough. She didn't realise they were so dangerous. Calling themself I, if only for a moment, was progress, but they're still conditioned, still so easy to trigger.

Still so damn small, as well.

And now that same person is soaking her t-shirt with sobs, clutching her like she'll disappear if they don't.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."

They can only hope that it's true.

[firexfled]

Fell Childen (part 1/???)

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 6:53 PM

Prolouge: Son of Grima

How long has it been since the world fell into ruins? Days? Months? Years? It's been so long, I can't keep track. I can't even remember how long it has been since I got to see my mother alive. Ever since they announced her death, I had a feeling in my chest... Like no other. As if... She was still alive. They never found her body, so they presumed she died. As for Chrom, the past Exhalt, he was found dead. His body brought back. I remember seeing Lucina in tears. Holding her father's sword close to her. She was mourning, and had something that was close to her. As for me, I never did mourn. Sure, I did cry a little... I lied, it was a lot. Most of the time was before sleeping. Others was during study. As the years went by and the world continued to go into ruin even more by the fell dragon, Grima, we continued to fight harder for peace. One by one, our friends familes started to get slaughtered... Only leaving us children to defend our world. Lucina, the future exhalt, led the battle. As for me, I was their general tactician. I say "was" for a reason... A dark reason that I regret to this very day...

Some nights, I had these strange dreams. Dreams of seeing my mother, but... She wasn't like herself. She told me what and who I was. That in truth, I am the son of not only the greatest tactician, Robin... But I am also the son... of Grima. I continued to refuse the truth. But then when I look at the top of my right hand, it does look a lot like my mother's hand. If that is the case, then mother... Is mother really the fell dragon herself? In order to find out the truth behind everything, she gave me an option. One that I will always regret choosing. One is that I join her side and she would tell me everything I would want to know... Or that soon my body would be taken over by the fell blood and try to force me to commit homicide against one of my friends. As soon as I heard my options, I shoot up... As if I was an arrow let loose from it's bow and string. My heart was racing as I was trying to process everything. After a few days, I have decided... I packed up all my stuff... and fled in the middle of the night. And soon before I knew it, there I was, standing on the cliff, facing the six-eyed dragon, Grima... Those red eyes were burned into my memory, sending chills down my spine. And this is when I knew, at this very moment...

I am the son of Grima

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:05 PM

Chapter 1: One and the Same

After weeks of working for mother, Grima, I've gotten quite use to the surroundings of me. Even though it was pretty... Dark. But not all the time was it dark. It's actually quite interesting when you are done for the day or when you find a rest in breaks. Why? It's because I get to interact with someone very close to me. Her name is Morgan.(edited)

When I arrived, I met a perculiar firgure. The same size, height, attire, exactly like me... Except when the hood lowered, it was a female face. One that almost looks a lot like mine. Though her hair was quite messy and a bit longer, we practically looked as if we were twins. Grima explained to me that her name was also Morgan, and that she is the same as me... Well, not entirely. Different personalities, that is for sure. And we were differemt genders, as if we were part of a pararell dimension. But even so, she has that... glow around her. And it's like... One day I would be depressed, then she would cheer me up. And when she's depressed, I would cheer her up.

After talking with her, it turns out she used to have a father named Robin as well. Same name as my mother. I bet they both would look very similar, heh. We also talked much about our pasts. The same people we met, same situations, just different... Interactions. It was all very interesting. After a while, we made a promise. Even though we are not related by blood, we will look after each other's backs, no matter how big or small the situation gets. And to myself...

I promise to protect her

Chapter 2: Silence and Darkness

Today, me and Morgan was sent to stop the future children... More likely kill them. What choice did we have? Either way, they have to die... Right? Well... We were wrong. All that time of studying and planning our ambush and attack on them.... was all for nothing, as we failed

Now standing next to Morgan, head down as we stood in front of the throne room, where Grima sat at, my body trembled on the inside, my heart racing. Gods, I continued to think "This is it. This is where we die." I look over to Morgan to see her trembling as well, and I reached my hand out to hold hers, squeezing it lightly, whispering "It's gonna be okay. I'm here with you" I hope that would calm her down

Grima - Today at 7:23 PM

One job, one job! That's all these damn brats were given, yet they failed. The other brats live on! and here are these failures, with their heads bowed, right in front of me. "I am very disappointed in you two." My voice leaves my throat like a growl, and I narrow my eyes at the failures. "You were supposed to kill those damn kids, yet reports say that they are all still alive, why is that?"

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:25 PM

As I heard her voice, my heart began to race faster and faster. My head, still not looking up at the fell god.

Grima - Today at 7:30 PM

"Answer me, worms, now!" I growl again, glaring at these pathetic useless lumps of flesh. They should be better than this! they have my blood flowing through their veins! Ah, the girl finally looked up, her eyes meeting mine, but there wasn't fear in those brown orbs, oh no, she seemed very, very calm. The words that leaves her lips nearly set me into a rage! "If you want them dead so badly, why don't you kill them yourself?"

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:33 PM

"M-Morgan!" What the hell is she thinking?! Talking to Grima like that. Oh gods, she could be killed in an instant "What are you doing?!" I whisper to her "You realize what you just said?"

Grima - Today at 7:35 PM

I flicker my eyes over to the boy as he leans over and whispers into the girls ear, he was too quiet for me to make out any words, but I notice that the girl's lips start forming a smile as she whispers something back. What ever they are saying, I have a feeling that it would only make me want to burn them even more.

(Morgan's words: Don't worry, Marc~ I have a plan~)

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:38 PM

Wait, what plan is she talking about?! Did I miss something along the way? No, I know we never discussed anything about a plan. I shake my head, worried that we both might get killed together

Grima - Today at 7:41 PM

"You have quite the bite, young lady, I am afraid that I might have to cut that tongue of yours out~ or maybe rip your vocal cords from your throat?" I let out a dark chuckle, of course I would enjoy that very much, watching her bleed, and not being able to scream~ gods, just the thought of it makes me feel so alive!

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:44 PM

"No! Please don't!" I screamed out, quickly covering my mouth from my outburst. Gods, now I'M gonna probably get killed. Morgan, whatever plan you have, I have a bad feeling about it, at this rate.

Grima - Today at 7:51 PM

I glare at the boy, and snap my fingers, risen appearing and holding the boy down. And then I return my gaze back to the girl, and stand from my seat, my boots echoing against the floor. A slander hand grabs the girls chin, lifting it up, as I smile, before digging right into her throat, with my bare hand. My finger's grasping the very thing that allows the girl to make noise, and ripping it right out, there was a tearing sound, and a gurgle, I drop the removed pieces, and then turn and sit back on my chair. "...Make sure that she doesn't die of that wound, she still has use, after all~" I say to another risen, watching as it drags the girl out of the room, a trail of blood left where she was minutes before.

Turning my attention back to the boy, I grin widely. "Now, what should your punishment be~?"

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 7:54 PM

I try to get up to go after her. Gods, why did this have to happen? It's all my fault. I should have been more throughly with the planning and traps. "Why? Why did you do that? Let me go! I have to see her! She needs me!"

Grima - Today at 7:56 PM

"Now, now, darling~ Be a dear and be quiet for mommy, alright~?" I lick at the mess on my hand, as I think of what I should do to this boy. "Let me see here... how about I cut a finger or two off? perhaps a whole hand? hmm... decisions, decisions~"

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 8:08 PM

Oh gods, what is she saying? No, if that happens, I won't be able to fight like I use to. Mother, I need mother. Gods, think, Morgan, think think think. "Mother... Please... She had nothing to do with the loss! It was me... I didn't... I didn't check it all! I was the one who messed up! Please..." I cried, staring at the ground before closing my eyes tightly. Just let me go, please, I continue to think over in my head... Until I heard her voice....

Grima - Today at 8:15 PM

I suddenly get an idea. "You said you want to see her, right?" I motion a risen over to me, and then whisper into it's ear. The risen leaves, and comes back with a small blade, I take the blade, and stand up once more, walking up to the boy, and stabbing his eyes. "You better scream for me, dear~ I want to hear your misery and pain~" I whisper, as I hand the blade back to the risen. "Take him away, their punishments are over."

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 8:53 PM

Before I could process all she had said, I scream out in agony and pain as I felt the sharp blade piercing my eyes. I could feel the oozing warm liquid flowing down my cheeks. At this rate, I was wanting to die. But I didn't, just the pain and darkness that surounds me. All I could do was call out "Mother! Mother! Please! Mother!" I called out to the darkness, reaching my hands out

"Mother! Where are you?! Please!"

Grima - Today at 8:59 PM

I can hear his cries, and I just close my teary eyes myself, wanting to comfort him... but I can't... moving is too painful right now, the wound on my neck is excruciating. I just want to scream at the top of my lungs, but I can't, i can't even whimper, no noise comes out. So I am stuck here, in pain, and having to listen to the other suffer...

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 9:00 PM

And just like that... There was only silence... And darkness...

Chapter 4: Comfort Touch

I guess I fell to sleep, though I can't see. Only images I have previously seen was in my head. That was it, nothing but a sea of darkness. But where am I? "Hello?" I try to call out "Hello? Anyone there?" I try to stand up, only to fall back down. I reach my hand up to touch my eyes, only to feel a cloth that has replaced my open wounded eye flesh. I began to cry, which made the pain even worse, which made me cry even more. I never asked for anything like this. All I wanted was a normal life with a normal family... To live with mother and father... Happily... "Why... Please... Somebody... Anyone... Please!" I cry out once more

Grima - Today at 9:08 PM

I reach my hand to his, listening to his cries is painful... so very painful... I look at him from the corner of my eye, knowing that moving my head would be too painful. I want to tell him soothing words, but I can't, it's not fair!

Aspiring Tactician Morgan - Today at 9:12 PM

"W-who's there? Who are you? I can't see... Morgan? Morgan?" I tear up, remembering what had happened to her. The pain and sufferinf she has gone through. I failed her. I couldn't protect her. Only feel her touch my hand, I cry into it "Morgan, I'm so so sorry... I failed... I failed... I broke my promise.... I failed, I'm so sorry...." I cried. Gods, I'm so pathetic. Why does she have to be the one to go through pain? She's done nothing wrong! Morgan, please tell me you can hear me...

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

To Catch Lightning in a Bottle: Part 1

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Dean Winchester x adopted!daughter.

Series Summary: When Dean finds a little girl hidden at the home of a witch he and Sam just took out, he wants to help her. But what will he do when the little one proves to be a natural born witch herself? Can he help her? Can he keep her safe and on the right track?

Chapter Summary: Dean and Sam must decide what to do with the powerful little witch they've encountered.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,464

A/N: @agirlwithanpureheart sent an ask for this request and this is Part 1 of 5 of this series that sees Dean adopting a daughter who is a natural born witch.

The beautiful dividers here and below were created by @talesmaniac89. 💓

The two hunters stood inside the shed, trying to work out a solution to the problem of the little witch across the room.

Sam shrugged. "Look, I don't know what to do with her in the long run, Dean, but for right now, we need to get her out of this place, because we need to be long gone."

Dean nodded and looked back at the hole where he could now see two big eyes peering over the ledge in his direction. He smiled and started back towards her, sighing as the little head popped back out of sight.

When he reached the little witch, he sat down cross-legged beside the hole and waved Sam over. Sam came and sat down too and the little girl's eyes grew wider and more afraid. Dean slugged Sam in the arm.

"I know, he's big, isn't he? But he's actually much nicer than me, and I promise that both of us just want to help you, okay?"

The little one nodded warily and sat up a little straighter so her head was out of the hole.

Dean cleared his throat. "First things first, what's your name, Sweetheart?"

After a second the little girl looked up at Dean and her eyes were serious and intense, even more so in such a tiny, dirty little face.

"Mama says names have power and I shouldn't give my name to just everybody."

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. "Sure, sure."

He looked at Sam for assistance, and the younger man frowned in thought. Then he took a deep breath. "That's true, but if we tell you our names too, doesn't that even out the power?"

The little girl stared at Sam with her head tilted as she thought over his reasoning. It was disconcerting to see that kind of concentration and seriousness on the face of one so young; it made Dean uneasy.

Witches, man.

Finally the little girl nodded. "You first." She said.

Sam smiled and slapped a hand to Dean's back. "Well, like he said, his name is Dean," he laid a hand against his own chest, "and my name is Sam."

Looking between them both the little girl took in a big breath and seemed to come to a decision. "My name is Morgana."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "Like the witch in the King Arthur legends."

Morgana nodded. "I'm named for her, Mama said I take after her."

"Great." Dean said under his breath.

He ran a hand over his face; just what they needed, a tiny, powerful, natural-born witch with ties to one of the mightiest, notoriously dark witches in history. He didn't know all the lore on Morgana, and of course, they didn't know what was true and what wasn't, but this little creature was becoming more complicated by the minute.

Dean smiled at her. "I'm gonna call you Morgan, okay?" He reached his hand out toward her again. "Now, Morgan, we need you to come with us. We have to leave now."

Morgana shook her head, confusion evident. "Are you taking me to Mama?"

Dean closed his eyes briefly; how was he going to handle this one? He gave the gentlest smile he could, and pulled his hand back, hoping to avoid being zapped again as he delivered the bad news.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. But your Mama has...passed on. She...she died. Do you know what that means?"

It became obvious very quickly that she did indeed know just what that meant because as sadness gathered on her face and her odd eyes filled up with tears, the air seemed to crackle with power, raising the hair on the back of Dean's neck.

In the distance thunder rumbled and in the shed, the wind picked up, becoming strong enough to knock a box of tools off a table; the dust and dirt swirled around them in a kind of whirlwind.

Sam squinted hard against the debris and called out to the little tempest causing the storm.

"Morgana, you need to try and calm down."

But his urging only seemed to make the little witch gather more destructive power to her, as a massive crack of thunder sounded very nearby and the world around them lit up as a fierce bolt of lightning shot across the sky.

The tables in the shed started sliding across the floor, moved easily by the screaming wind now careening around the small room.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean raised his voice above the pounding storm around them.

"Morgan! Stop it right now!"

The storm ceased immediately; the silence shocking after the cacophony of noise. Morgana stared at Dean in surprise for a split second before launching herself out of the hole and into his arms.

And just like that, she wasn't some unknowingly all-powerful witch with ties to ancient, and possibly dark, mystical strength and energy.

She was just a small and broken thing sitting in Dean's lap, and he knew immediately that he needed to take care of her, protect her, even from herself if necessary.

He wrapped his arms around her thin, shaking body and knew beyond a doubt just what to do with her. She was coming home with them.

***

Morgana sat in the back of the big black car and was amazed by the speed with which they were travelling. She'd never been in a car before; her Mama said they were dangerous and unnecessary.

Mama.

The thought of her Mama brought so much confusion and sadness. She was so sad she was gone, but also a little...she tried to understand her feelings.

Am I relieved? She wondered if that was the right word.

Shame settled around her heart. How could she feel like that? Her Mama was everything she had, everything she knew. But Morgana shivered slightly; the truth was, her Mama had scared her sometimes too.

Now she was gone and Morgana knew she was all alone in the world, and as she looked out the wide window of the car, she realized her Mama had been right. She'd never let Morgana more than a few feet out of her sight, telling the little girl that the world was big and dark and dangerous, and only her Mama could keep her safe in it.

The world around her did indeed seem huge and endless and black. She could feel the fizziness start in the tips of her fingers and toes and she took deep breaths to try and stop it. Ever since she could remember, when she got angry or scared or sad, the fizziness would buzz through her body and if she wasn't careful, she'd quickly lose control.

Mama had told her it was a gift, but usually Morgana felt like it was a mean trick someone had played on her. The feeling in her body, the buzz of energy, was scary and she'd accidentally hurt people with it before.

There was the little boy in the park, the first and last time Mama had ever let her play there. Morgana had been playing in the sandbox, making sandcastles and just enjoying the feel of the warm sand in her hands when a little boy had approached her and knocked down her castle.

"You can't play here anymore. I'm playing here." He'd stated in all his little boy superiority.

Morgana had felt a burst of anger shoot through her and the little boy had cried out and ran over to his mother. "She pinched me!" He'd wailed.

It was the only conclusion he could come to, but Morgana had known it was the fizziness that ran through her that had zapped him and hurt him.

She looked at the man driving the car. Dean. She'd hurt him too, and had felt awful as she watched pain flash across his face. She could usually push the fizziness away if she tried, but sometimes it was too fast to catch.

She'd been so scared as the storm shook the shed around them, but it was like the buzz in her bones had unspooled from her insides into the world around her, and she couldn't pull the ribbons of energy back into her.

But when Dean had yelled at her, it had startled her so much, it felt like a rubber band snapping, and the lines of fizzy energy had been severed from her.

She had been so grateful, she'd forgotten to be afraid of the giant man in front of her, and had just wanted to thank him. But then when she sat in his lap, with his arms holding her tight against him, she'd felt safe for the first time since her Mama had shoved her into the hole and told her to stay silent until she came to get her again.

It had been hours and hours in the dark and she'd been so scared. She had to fight the whole time to keep the fizziness in check, so she wouldn't give herself away and make her Mama mad. She was so tired from it.

Now here she was, leaving behind everything she'd ever known in her almost six years of life. She should be even more scared now.

Yet, she was surprised to find that within the warmth of the car, her cheek snuggled into the jacket Dean had given her to use as a pillow, she felt completely safe. There was a low humming sound in the air and combined with the low, quiet voices of the two men in the front seat, it was making her sleepy.

She knew in her soul that she was safe to close her eyes and the relief of that made her sigh deeply and let her mind drift away.

***

Dean picked up the sleeping child from the back seat, her little bird bones making her feel like he was carrying a cloud, she was so light and delicate.

Again, a wave of protectiveness washed over him as he looked down into her exhausted face. Her eyelids were purple with fatigue, dark circles around her eyes making her look like she'd been given two black eyes.

God, Dean thought, how long has she gone without a good night's sleep?

He carried her all the way down the bunker stairs and through the winding hallways to his room. He laid her on the bed and she looked dwarfed by the mattress and bedding.

He sat down on the mattress beside her and pushed the scraggly, matted hair off her forehead.

We'll need to get her into a bath at some point, he thought and get her some new, clean clothes.

Sam came into the bedroom quietly, after hauling in all their bags and dumping them on the library table.

He spoke in a whisper. "God, she looks exhausted." He frowned deeply. "And filthy. What the hell did her mother do to take care of her."

Dean shrugged and shook his head feeling his anger gather at the signs of neglect. "Probably more interested in harnessing her power for herself, than in taking care of her."

Dean lifted her easily again as he slid the blankets out from beneath her and tucked them around her.

"But it doesn't matter." He whispered to Sam as he came to stand beside him at the end of the bed. "Because that ends now. We're going to take care of her, Sammy. We're gonna teach her how to keep herself under control."

"Well," Sam cautioned, "I mean, I think we should teach her how to control and use her powers, not suppress them."

Dean scowled at him. "Are you crazy? She can't use those powers. Didn't you see how powerful they are already? I mean, what is she - five years old? And she can call up a friggin' storm out of thin air."

Dean shook his head. "No, we're gonna look into the lore and try and find ways to keep those kind of powers in check, figure out how to get them out of her head."

"Dean..." Sam began, his voice rising and making Morgana shift sleepily in the big bed.

Dean waved him off. "Look," he said, back to a low whisper, "we'll deal with things as they come. Let's just let her sleep now, and the next step will be a bath and clothes and after that..." He trailed off and shrugged.

Sam nodded and walked out quietly. Dean stood watching her for a moment more before he left too, turning off the light behind him. But as the room went dark, Morgana sat up with a start.

"Mama?" She cried out.

Dean turned the light back on, and went to sit on the side of the bed where the little girl was looking around in confusion.

"It's okay, Morgan. We're here. You're home with us. This is my bedroom," he swept his hand in an arc, showcasing it, "and you can sleep in here safe and sound tonight. And tomorrow we'll set you up in your own room. And...and you can decorate it any way you want. How does that sound?"

Morgana laid back against the pillows again, and a small, sleepy smile played around her mouth. "Can I put unicorns in my room? I like unicorns."

Dean tucked the blankets around her again and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "Of course you can, sweetheart. We'll fill your room with them."

He tried not to grimace at the image of a room full of horses with horns. But as a real smile broke across her face for the first time since they'd found her, he vowed to make it happen. If unicorns were what brought out that beautiful little ray of sunshine, he'd buy her a million of them.

"Get some sleep now, baby. We'll talk about it more tomorrow." He rose to go, but Morgana grabbed his sleeve and he turned back to look down at her.

Her smile was gone and there was trepidation in her expression. "I don't want the dark."

Dean reached over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. "No dark, then."

Morgana nodded her little head, satisfied. Then she looked at him again and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"What if bad dreams come?"

Dean pulled up the chair from the corner, scraping it against the floor as he dragged it into position beside the bed.

"Well, I'm gonna stay right here the whole night. I can be pretty big and scary when I wanna be and bad dreams are afraid of me." He cupped her thin cheek. "So, I'll keep you safe."

Morgana leaned her cheek more fully into his palm and he felt his heart constrict at the way she nuzzled into him.

"Promise?" She asked.

"Promise."

Part 2

@akshi8278, @lgranger67, @maggiegirl17, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone, @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins2, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy, @eevvvaa, @b-i-t-c-h-i-e, @twirpbunwarrior, @mysweetlittledesire, @waynes-multiverse, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @bernasaurus, @leigh70, @sexyvixen7, @supernatural4life2022, @dainrumnaheimaheim

Masterlist

Tag Lists

[eunoiaflow3r]

not ur friend

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part two - part three

a/n: haven’t written for spence in a while lol. hope you guys like it. wow...and i wrote him as an ass. bahahaha what am i going through i’m so sorry.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 1.8k

request(ed): no.

summary: y/n overhears something she shouldn’t have. this conversation alters her relationship.

not ur friend by jeremy zucker.

———————-——————&————————————

Hang up, if you ever think of calling me up. Not afraid to say it, darling.

3 days.

It’s been an entire weekend of you ignoring Spencer and his ever intruding phone calls. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that this felt like a breakup. Your head and heart was treating this like you were in a relationship and he made it painfully clear that you weren’t.

It was quiet in your apartment. The television was off, the radio was silent, the heater had paused and even the refrigerator wasn’t making the usual silent buzz noise it made. The deafness of it all allowed the conversation you heard friday night play over and over again through your ached head.

Friday 11:37 pm.

“So Reid...” you picked up your phone when it rang and read Spencer’s name across the screen. It wasn’t like him to call so late but you picked up anyway. When it was a muffled Morgan’s voice you heard instead of Spencer’s you realized he hadn’t even meant to call you at all.

“How’s your girlfriend?”

You just knew all eyes were on him. Spencer Reid was very private about his social life. It was rare he even told you about anything he’d been up to. He just wasn’t one for small talk. The fact that you just knew they were talking about you made you press your phone harder into your ear even though you weren’t even sure you should have been listening.

“Oh y/n? Yeah she’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

This stung. There wasn’t even a label or anything that you guys put on it, but usually when Spencer would talk about his romantic relationships he’d get nervous and stuttery and try to change the subject. Spencer’s voice was clear and steady. Zero hints of nervousness and bashfulness. He was serious.

“Really?” This was Emily now, you could recognize her voice. “You guys seem like pretty close friends if you know what I mean.” Her tone was laced with humor but Spencer’s was far from joking.

“No. I wouldn’t call us friends either. She’s just someone I visit. Like y’know...how you would a grandmother.”

A grandmother? He compared you to a grandmother? He said visiting you was like visiting a grandmother?? You could feel the tears in your eyes. You really thought Spencer was a good guy. Why would he say something so rude? Something so hurtful about the person he was sleeping with.

It wasn’t a friends with benefits. You guys had agreed on that, but you weren’t dating either. You had met him at a museum and ever since then you two had behaved as if a couple would. The only difference was that you weren’t public. You weren’t posting pictures, or gushing over how cute you thought your “boyfriend” was to your friends. And you were fine with that. Labels are constricting. You were glad not to have them except when he decided to say he barely knew you at all and compared you to a grandmother.

“Damn.” Morgan sounded impressed. “Does she know that?”

“Maybe.” Spencer paused. “There’s nothing really romantic about our relationship. To be honest, she can be a bit needy at times and it’s suffocating.”

He paused again.

“I’m actually thinking of breaking things off. She wants more and I just don’t like her that way.”

Sorry, I'm not sorry if it hurts. I don’t mean to make it worse.

This is where you hung up. Your tears never stopped flowing. How dare he? How dare he say you were needy and suffocating? You rarely asked him for anything, and didn’t bother him with things at all. You knew he was a busy person. A busy and hardworking person. You never tried to ask him for more than he was willing to give. Ever. It hurt your heart to think he was playing you the whole time.

It hurt to think that all the “I adore you’s” and “I think I’m in love with you’s” were all fake. You were pretty sure with the way things were headed that you and Spencer would have much more than just a relationship. Much more than sex and cuddles. But a meaning - an understanding.

Spencer was your comfort. Your safe place. The person you’d go to if you were hurting, or in trouble. You were his. Countless times he came to your house and cried to you about the stress from his job. He’d hold you and tell you all about his day and what more he wished he could have done.

You’d buy him his favorite food and he’d cuddle you to sleep only to wake you up in the morning with kisses and great morning sex. To hear all of that meant basically nothing to him tore your heart to pieces.

It made you want to throw up. Had you wasted your time? Had he felt this way the entire time and you just never noticed because you hoped he felt the same? Were there signs that you missed? Something you could have done to prevent yourself from falling this hard for someone who didn’t care?

But you thought he cared.

Spencer was the most caring, empathetic person you’d ever met in your life. He was so understanding in a way no one could ever get.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

This is why you thought that maybe this is why he tried to hide you. Maybe he just was afraid of his friends not liking you, or afraid of someone from where he worked would try to hurt you. You prayed this was the case. You hoped and cried that this was the reason he’d ever let those words leave his mouth.

The reason you couldn’t believe this though is something understandable.

He had never, ever, called you anything other than his friend, and never wanted to go out.

He told you it was because he was protecting you, but he never wanted to even meet your friends. And when you talked about a guy or introduced him to one, he’d get upset and say something like, “Yeah well he seems perfect for you anyway. Not like we’re a thing - do what you want.”

And your brain tried to rationalize this as protection. The more you thought about it the more the other part of your brain screamed manipulation. You tried to ignore it but is that what was happening? Had he been manipulating you the entire time and you just never knew it?

If he was protecting you he wouldn’t call you needy. He wouldn’t not even bother to look at your friends. He wouldn’t feel the need to hide you from the entire world and lie about it in such a - douchebag way.

This hurt you though. His team can call out a liar faster than anyone and they would have said something if they thought he was lying. They would have defended you. The wouldn’t have egged him away and joked about you like you were some embarrassing one night stand.

You expected respect and decency and got dishonesty and asshole attitudes instead.

After the weekend of pitying yourself you realized you needed to stop. This wasn’t your fault. He has issues of his own. Issues he needs to work out and come to terms with on his own. Why should you feel anything for a man trying to hide you? Lying to you? Lying to his friends ABOUT you. Reassuring yourself helped but didn’t help the ache in your heart.

Were you ready for this? Were you ready to throw it all away? After all it could just be a misunderstanding. A misinterpretation. It could be your fault. Maybe you were clingy.

No.

No. Absolutely not. You weren’t going to try to defend his actions.

Right now, there's not much that we agree on. Sit down, if you need someone to lean on.

You called him.

“Hello?” he answered right away. “Where have you been are you okay? I was gonna come over and check.”

“Don’t come over.” You cleared your throat and blinked away tears.

“Then please come to mine. I have to talk to you, I missed you.”

He still has no idea. He doesn’t have a clue what you overheard on the phone. All the pieces of the puzzle you put together. All that you’ve realized in the past 3 days.

You rolled your eyes. Any other day you’d think his obliviousness was adorable but right now it only made you want to punch him in his stomach for lying to you and wasting your time.

“I’ll be over to give you your things.”

And you hung up.

That was so hard for you to do and you had hot wet tears running down your face to prove it. No matter how many times you tried to brush them away they just kept on going down.

Fuck him.

A shower and a change of clothes later you were finally ready to see him.

Honest, if I'm coming to your place, it's to say it to your face...

In your car you tried to talk yourself out of it. You told yourself to just forget the phone call over happened and just go back to the way things were. At least you here happy then...at least...sort of. You were okay. You were happy with him. The time you spent with him was enjoyable but you were tired of being his therapist. You were tired of being his dirty mistress. You didn’t want to be lied to or lied about. You were over it.

When you got there he rushed you in the house and looked down at you confusingly.

You had never been inside his place. The only time you were ever really here was when you were inside waiting in the car so that he could change his shirt.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow?”

“I came now to give you your things.”

“JJ will be here soon, you should probably leave. Why did you bring this stuff?”

“They’re yours. They shouldn’t be at my place.”

He looked confused but took the box from your hands anyway.

“I’m leaving.” You simply said and turned towards the door. The sooner you were out the better.

“Can I at least have a kiss?” Spencer asked in the cute voice he knew you liked.

You closed your eyes. “Sorry Reid, but no. I don’t want to seem needy or suffocating, ya’know? Makes it easier to break things off.”

Color drained from his face as he realized what you were talking about. He couldn’t even come up with an excuse other than a - “No, baby I -“

You put your palm in the air facing him telling him to stop.

“It’s okay. I was just someone you visited...like a grandmother. You shouldn’t miss me too much. We’re not even friends, right?”

You walked out of the house.

You walked out on him. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was always the one to leave. He was always the one to say goodbye.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

—————————————-#————————————

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123

[masterwords]

running toward nothing (part seven)

Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him. (Set around 07x01 - It Takes a Village but canon divergent by a lot.)

Warnings: drug use/addiction, alcohol, infidelity (almost), panic, pain...

Words: 3k

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan established

Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal. I mean, okay I know I just posted a chapter but this one came together fast and I'm not sure about you guys but I don't like waiting.

CHAPTER LIST

Read on AO3: Running Toward Nothing

**

“You're not gonna say anything to Hotch, right?”

The hallway was pitch black, save for the tiny flicker of candle light that sat between Derek and Emily. Just enough to see what they were doing as they passed Emily's flask of emergency whiskey back and forth.

“How do I not tell him?”

It was a genuine question. Derek couldn't fathom going home, looking at Hotch, touching him and proclaiming love and saying nothing. Of course he knew what she meant, it was going to crush him. Even if it was innocent, he did the thing; the why and the how were less important than the simplicity of what happened beneath that mountain of blankets.

“You just don't, Derek. Not right now. Wait. He's sitting there at what he thinks is rock bottom and you're about to pull out the jackhammer and prove him wrong.” She paused, taking a burning gulp of the whiskey before passing it to him for a final time. It warmed her down to her fingertips and she smiled in spite of their conversation. The kind of bitter smile that she saved for moments alone with Derek who seemed to get her on a level no one else really did. “I'm gonna go snuggle up with the naughty boy genius now, you finish the whiskey.”

“Em...” He almost said something he would regret. Wouldn't be the first time tonight. He couldn't exactly take advice from previously-dead now suddenly-alive Emily Prentiss the Queen of Lies on the subject, though, and he thought she understood that even if he didn't say it out loud. How long had she been lying to all of them? Did he even really know her? He wanted to say he did, he loved her, but he knew better. And the advice she gave him was so easy, hard earned. It was what she knew...lie to protect the people you love from yourself. But in Derek's experience, lies really only protected monsters. They felt good at first, but in the end it was always the same. The good guys got hurt and the monsters got away. Emily was proof of that, wasn't she? Sitting there staring at him, a ghost in the hallway, still not sure she wanted to be alive again, considering another disappearing trick as things got too real. “You haven't seen him yet, have you?”

She regarded him sadly as she stood and tugged the blanket around her shoulders. “No. He's not ready for that yet.” There were tears in her eyes that she refused to allow, refused to admit. “Neither am I.” The sound of her throat clearing, emotion dying on the icy air between them, shuddered through him. “If you tell him, don't say I didn't warn you. You're just trying to make yourself feel better...take it from someone who has intimate knowledge on this topic. Don't fool yourself into thinking it's for him.”

He couldn't add to the lies. They'd all had their fill, he wouldn't be responsible for putting another log on that fire.

(x)

“You wanna talk about it?”

JJ was supposed to be asleep, at least Emily had assured him that she was but the minute he crawled into the bed with her she drew in a long, gentle breath and offered him a sad smile in the dark. The gray tendrils of dawn were creeping in slowly, casting the room in an eerie glow.

“Nah,” he said softly. He had no desire to hear another person tell him not to do what he'd already decided he had to. Just another person to say I told you so when it was all said and done. When Hotch said this is it, this is as far as I'm willing to walk this path with you. Hotch, who he had every intention of marrying...and he'd never even thought about that stupid big word before. “I'm just an asshole. That's all.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, don't try to make me feel better. I need to sit with this.”

“Nobody's perfect, Derek. We all make mistakes.”

He pulled the covers up over his head and groaned miserably. “Thanks JJ.” He hoped that was enough to make the talking stop...he didn't want to feel better, he wanted to feel as bad as he did now. He deserved to feel this bad, there was no way to assuage this guilt. The sick feeling, the knowledge that he'd destroyed some intricate team dynamic that would never go back to normal. Everything irrevocably blown to bits in the blink of an eye. And for what? Because he'd had a four month dry spell?

“It was a mistake. Tell Hotch about it when you get home, if that's what you think you need to do, and get over it. You're not special Derek, we've all done things we regret.” Regret didn't even begin to touch it. And it wasn't just about Hotch, it was about Spencer too...he clearly wanted it, was heartbroken that it didn't continue, that Derek just walked out. He felt the hot sting of tears again and tried to bite it back. She waited for a response, an argument, something but was met only with his shallow breaths as he bit back tears.

She sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Derek.”

He tried to sleep for almost an hour, but just ended up hovering over the toilet throwing up half a flask of whiskey and everything he'd eaten the day before.

JJ pretended not to hear him. It was the least she could do.

(x)

Emily was fully awake before Spencer even opened his eyes and made for the bathroom. The power was still out so no coffee, no hot shower, no curling iron. It was a ponytail and fleece kind of day, she figured. She pushed Spencer's toiletry bag out of the way, at least she'd tried to but she swiped a little too hard and knocked the contents into the sink. With a groan, she began shoving things back inside, feeling too damn awkward about touching his personal items.

A small pill bottle gave her pause, even in the low light filtering through the one small window she could feel how wrong it was. Could be antibiotics, antidepressants, she had no reason to feel the way she did when she touched it but something was...off. Squinting, she turned the bottle over in her hand and saw Hotch's name printed clear as day. “Fuck,” she whispered, noting that the prescription was for Vicodin and there was only one pill left in the bottle. She didn't have anything to really go on, it could still be completely innocent and she wasn't going to jump to conclusions. The thought that Spencer would steal from Hotch was absurd, right? He'd been spending a lot of time with Hotch, it could be nothing..but it could also be something huge and she couldn't get past the implication. She hated where her mind went as she shoved it back into the bag and put the bag on the floor.

“Emily?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He was standing now in the open doorway to the bathroom, eyes flicking from his bag on the floor to her startled expression. No way she didn't see it, her eyes were wide as saucers. “It isn't what it looks like.” A pointless offer, really. She hadn't formed a real opinion on the bottle until he said that and now she couldn't see anything but what it was: Spencer was using again, and he was doing it with Hotch's medicine cabinet. Maybe with Hotch's knowledge, probably not though.

Her stare went from startled to accusatory. “What does it look like?”

“Jack gave them to me when I had a headache,” he said, figuring the truth might be his best bet. The headache was creeping back in now, right at the base of his neck, thread thin tendrils dancing into his skull.“I forgot to put them back. I didn't take them, I swear.” Okay, a little lie. But she looked like she almost believed him, except he kept saying them and it was clearly only one pill. “I feel awful for forgetting I had them but I'm giving them back. Please don't tell, I don't want Jack to get into trouble, he was only trying to help.” Them them them. He kept saying them and Emily kept thinking one, only one.

Her stare was sad, accusing, but she nodded. “Okay. Make sure he gets them back and I'll keep Jack's secret.” Now he had to do it, had to give the bottle back. Emily felt the weight of another lie on her shoulders.

Only one pill left...that was going to be tricky, but he was a genius. He'd figure it out.

(x)

They got back to Virginia late. Everyone was silent, they'd all had just about enough of one another for the time being after being snowed in and snuggled up in the dark. The Bureau couldn't leave them there any longer, once they were cleared to fly they were pulled whether the unsub had been apprehended or not. It didn't make anyone feel good, but then given the extracurricular activities, no one was feeling very good anyway. Spencer couldn't get away fast enough after spending the entire flight sure that Emily was staring at him. Burning holes in his conscience. And then there was Derek who spoke only when he had to, looked at Spencer only when it would be rude not to...no he had to get home quickly. Figure out how to get out of this mess he was suddenly neck deep in. The Vicodin screamed at him from the bag. What's just one more? Put back the empty bottle, that seemed likely...put it back empty and it'll look like Sean was responsible and then hid the evidence. His head was pounding without mercy, it was easy to take the pill when he got home.

Derek's drive was peaceful, the roads clear of life. Blinking red and yellow lights guided him through the city and into the suburbs. He could make the trip with his eyes closed, but he was wide awake and alert. His heart was pounding to get out before he used it as a weapon of mass destruction.

“Aaron,” Derek said softly, sitting on the ground beside the hammock. The sky above was pitch black, not a star in sight. So different from where he'd just been, on that mountain you looked up and felt like you were falling endlessly into stars as deep as your mind could take them. Now there was nothing but black.

Not finding Hotch in bed should have been the first clear sign that he should keep his mouth shut. He heard Emily's voice in his head. This isn't for him, it's for you. Hotch was clearly having a bad pain night if he was in the hammock at this time. He was surprised not to find Sean out here, too, but he probably hadn't been gone long, the thing was still swaying and there wasn't a breeze. Probably needed a bathroom break. “Can we talk?”

Hotch hummed. It was soft, he didn't open his eyes even over the shock of Derek being home. He hadn't known. Definitely a bad pain night. Derek thought about the pills, the argument, the fact that they still had to finish that talk. He thought about Sean in the bathroom and the suspicions he and Spencer had talked about, but then he was back to Spencer and there was nothing else to do but dive head first into what happened there. Was alleviating his guilt worth crushing the person he loved? No, but then if he crawled into that hammock and kissed him with lips that had kissed another man just a few nights before, and Hotch didn't know...god no.. he had to say something.

“Something happened in Colorado.” Well that was an asshole way to start. Hotch didn't move, but his breathing got quieter. Too quiet. Crickets chirped around them and down the street at Clooney's favorite little pond the frogs sang loud. “We had this huge snowstorm, the power went out, remember I told you about that? Reid and I were sharing a room and it was so fucking cold, so we heaped all of the blankets on one bed and tried to conserve body heat.”

Hotch hummed again, like it was the most he could do. Words were simply unavailable, all of his energy was being spent just trying to hover beneath the pain. Derek felt like a piece of shit and heard Emily in his head again. How she'd taken on the voice of his conscience, he wasn't sure but he didn't like it much right now. “Anyway, I fell asleep fast and I started dreaming about you...remember that night in Alaska when you were shivering and you put your cold feet all the way up between my thighs...” Oh, he was in trouble now. The dream was forever ruined, that moment too. “...anyway, not important. The important thing is I guess my body didn't get the memo that this was a brain only party, and I woke up kissing Reid.”

“Reid?” First word, and now he was looking right at Derek. He hadn't even noticed Hotch move.“You kissed Reid?”

“I was sleepin', I didn't know...as soon as he started kissing me back it woke me up because I knew it wasn't you, man...I got outta there, went and bunked with JJ after that. I couldn't...god Aaron...” He had his hands down my pants, too, but maybe you don't need to know that right now yeah? His mind was racing. He knew this was a mistake and Emily was bouncing around in his head saying I told you so.

Hotch couldn't move. He wanted to sit up, hell he wanted to leave but the pain was deep. He was rooted to the spot, taken back to a phone ringing in Haley's purse, back further to hushed whispers about his father. This wasn't the same, not really...Derek was telling him, that had to count for something, but he couldn't see it in the moment. Right now, he was just struggling to breathe. His vision went gray and the hammock became a prison cell. When the words sank in, the magnitude of what Derek had said, he forgot the pain in his hip. It had been replaced with a deep ache in his chest.

“He kissed you back?” The words came out before he really knew he was thinking them. Honestly he really didn't realize he'd heard any of it specifically, it was just an angry ringing in his ears but apparently he hadn't missed even the smallest detail.

“Yeah...”

“Was he sleeping too?” Easier to talk now that he'd forgotten his blasted hip. The hip that made this possible. This conversation brought to you by the letter H, he thought bitterly. If not for the explosion, Derek wouldn't need to just dream about being touched and wasn't that what this was all about? He figured it probably was. Four months was a long time for anyone, probably, but a lifetime for Derek. Maybe it would always have happened…he wasn't supposed to be home yet anyway, explosion or no.

“No. He thought I was kissing him because...”

“Because he's in love with you.” He'd been sitting quietly on that one for a while now. Years maybe, but certainly the last few weeks made it obvious. Tears burned hot in his eyes, streaked down into his hair. Derek watched them catch the moonlight and his instinct was to swipe them away with his thumb but he wondered if maybe he didn't have the right anymore. Maybe he should leave...his house or not, he created this storm, he could end it by walking away. Giving everyone space. “What now?”

“I don't know the answer to that. All I know is that I didn't mean to kiss him, Aaron. And Emily told me not to tell you right now, she was probably right but it's all I've been able to think about since it happened. How do I keep it from you? It's important to me that you know...I'm sorry.”

Hotch let out a shaky breath and nodded. “I know.” He didn't know what else to say. He believed him. Maybe there was more but that was for later. “I forgive you.” That was the easiest thing to say, and he really did mean it...or he would, anyway, when he had a chance to sort through his feelings. He couldn't go there right now, the pain was coming back and it was coming fast.

“Don't do that, please,” Derek groaned, rising to his knees and resting his elbows on the fabric of the hammock. He just wanted to see Hotch's face, to look into his eyes and search for the truth. He wished Hotch would yell at him, lose it a little, say something that he could count as hurt.

“Derek, I haven't had the best couple of days, it's really bad right now...I'd rather not add to it. If you say it was an accident, and that you're sorry, I believe you.”

The last part stung. He thought about their phone call, about the pills, about how easily he was willing to discredit Hotch over something he couldn't even prove. He couldn't accept the forgiveness, the belief, that level of faith. It was what he wanted...but he didn't deserve it. Not yet.

“Aaron...do you want me to leave? I can go stay at a motel, maybe crash on Penelope's couch...give you some space...”

Hotch let out another shaky breath and stared straight up into the starless sky. That the sky was his only recourse, the only way he could get away for even a moment seemed cruel. “If you need to give me space,” he whispered through barely parted lips. The pain was back and worse than it had been all night. “That's fine. Go. But I didn't ask for it.”

[iridescentparkers]

evermore eighteen - peter parker

parings: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: entering adulthood can be rough, especially for a hurting peter. people say that you should surround yourselves with people you love in times of need. but why did everybody leave?

word count: 1.4k

warnings: much swearing and kissing

requested: no, but requests are open!

a/n: i know i'm a bit late to wish peter a happy birthday, but last minute I decided to make a mini series! i also think I wrote these so you can read them as a stand alone! I hope you all enjoy!

a/n: the song in this blurb is nights by frank ocean!

“You should be at your party.”

'Round your city, 'round the clock

Everybody needs you

No, you can't make everybody equal

Peter scoffed at your words, hunching over further as he sat near the edge of the compound's rooftop, “Pepper only threw it as an attempt to get me to stick around.”

You took a weighted breath, preparing yourself for the conversation ahead. Peter spoke facing away from you, making his voice slightly muffled. Partially from the storm that was coming in soon.

Although you got beaucoup family

You don't even got nobody bein' honest with you

Breathe 'til I evaporated

My whole body see-through

Transportation, handmade

Rushes of wind darted through your ears as the clouds above merged into darkened balls of despair. Plants that once stood tall, greeting those who were around them with their bright and shiny green faces, drooped down low, forcefully frowning from the bitter wind. It wasn’t even sunset yet, but the gloomy appearance of the clouds made it seem later than it was.

Stepping closer, you felt your heels for the grand occasion clack along with the black granite as you inched closer to Peter.

You got close enough to see the side of his face. His eyes were a pale red, having trails of clear streaks falling from them. He rubbed one of his eyes, and not only were they different in color, but they were different in shape too, puffed up along with his freckled cheeks.

And I know it better than most people

I don't trust 'em anyways

You can't break the law with them

Blankly, you looked out into the dark sky, keeping your eyes focused on the scenery ahead of you. “Mom misses you, Peter. Other than Morgan, you were the last bit of Tony she had left.”

His head shook as you watched him from your peripheral view. “And you were all I had left.”

“Please, Peter. Can we not get into this argument today?”

“What? The fact that you were off fucking some other guy just weeks after you left me! Did you cheat on me Y/N?”

Peter was facing you now. His voice was elevated to an angered tone, cracking mid-way through as tears came streaming down his pale cheeks.

“I didn't cheat Peter, and you know it,” You assured, making your tone sterner as Peter slowly faced you. “I loved you, and I would have never done something like that.”

Peter scoffed, swallowing the lumps of sadness building in his throat. “Whatever.”

Spend it when I get that, I ain't tryna keep you

Can't keep up a conversation, can't nobody reach you

Why your eyes well up?

Peter faced forward again as you moved into the open spot next to him. He didn’t appear the least bit intoxicated, just sad. Peter sniffled every few moments, adjusting in his seat as you observed him out of the corner of your eye. He too was probably doing the same.

Beside him sat a Spiderman sheet cake, bites of the dessert missing and some of it smeared on the fork placed next to it.

You smiled at him, breaking the thought-filled silence by laughing as you looked at what he was eating, “You are that self-centered that you have to eat a birthday cake with your face on it?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, then laughing as he looked in the same direction that you were. “Maybe so.” he laughed.

“I always loved getting you stuff like that.” you reminded him as he turned his face to meet yours.

Did you call me from a séance?

You are from my past life

Hope you're doin' well, bruh

I been out here head first, always like the head first

Signal comin' in and out

Hope you're doin' well, bruh

Everybody needs you

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I remember.”

Thunder clapped between his words, making it harder to comprehend what he was saying, “We should head inside.”

“You can go, I want to stay here a little while longer.”

You smiled, brushing a winded strand of hair from your face, “Actually, I can’t go. I promised Mom I’d return with you.”

Peter nodded, turning away from you as he too brushed a brown curl from his reddened eyes. “You might not be able to keep that promise then.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until you leave with me.”

He shrugged his shoulders, pursing his lips in response to your declaration, “Oh well.”

New beginnin's, ahh

New beginnin's, wake up, ahh

The sun's goin' down

Time to start your day, bruh

“How come you don’t come around anymore?” You asked as Peter then turned to eye you with his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly.

“Really?”

“I know the main reason, but you're still an Avenger. Mom left you a room, you only come by to train and for meetings, not to mention-”

“My God, you are truly a Stark, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, you and your family weren’t the only ones grieving, Y/N.” He began, his eyes peering deep into your own as his voice grew more stern. “When you left, I didn’t have anyone. Sure I have May, but no one else I knew around me truly understood what it was like to lose Mr. Stark.”

“Did you forget that you broke up with me? Or is that something that you just decided to skim over in your sob story?”

Lighting peered through the gray clouds, striking several times with many different illuminant colors, sets of thunder ringing in your ears soon after. You inhaled as you attempted to stay calm in both storms you were currently sitting in.

“Because I didn’t want to feel like a burden to you!” He yelled, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Every day, I always put you through my troubles when I didn’t get to help you with your own.”

“But Peter, I loved you! I wanted to! I wanted to shed every fucking tear with you until we couldn’t anymore. You were never a burden to me.!”You raged, feeling your face get hot with sadness as well.

Shut the fuck up, I don't want your conversation

“If I’d have known this, I would have fought harder for us.” You sniffled as tears ran down your stinging cheeks.

More tears welled in Peter’s eyes as he saw darkened streaks of mascara run down your face. He shook his head lightly as he felt more tears run down his face.

“I love you, Peter.” You spoke through your tears, pressing a gentle hand on the one resting in his lap.

All my night

Been ready for you all my night

Been waitin' on you all my night

I'll buzz you in, just let me know when you outside

All my night

You been missin' all my night

Still got some good nights memorized

And the look back's gettin' me right

Peter placed his opposite hand on your cheek, rubbing it gently as you leaned into his touch. He moved in closer, your lips now barely brushing one another’s, feeling his breath dance along your lips.

“I have a boyfriend,” you muttered, looking down at his pink lips.

“Forget him,” he whispered as both of your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips parted before they pressed deeply into your own.

Your eyelashes danced along Peter’s as he led the kiss, his head tilting as he pressed his face deeper into yours. The kiss was needy, him longing for the taste of your sweet lips, although slightly salty from the downpour of tears falling from your faces.

Rain began to come down as you melded deeper in his face. His hands cupped your cheek face, and your hands did the same. He reminded you of every emotion he felt while you were apart. The neediness of wanting your touch, the burden of sadness he felt with you gone, and even the loneliness he went through without you at his side.

You pulled away from his face feeling hazy as the downpour of rain trailed along your body. Everything on you both was dampened. Clothes, makeup, and even Peter’s Spiderman cake turned to mush. Your eyes raked up and down his face, stopping longer at his soaked hair. You always enjoyed Peter with wet hair. It suited him.

Peter remained close, and you felt his warm breath as he placed his hand under your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Forget him.” He muttered in close before heading to the balcony door, leaving you breathless and confused in the pouring rain.

Every night fucks every day up

Every day patches the night up

On God you should match it, it's that KO

No white lighters 'til I fuck my 28th up

1998, my family had that Acura

Oh, the Legend

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 16

Request: Yes or No

This first half is for you anon! Excuse my inability to write drunk characters lmao

~

"What the hell are you doing?" You blinked, looking up at Tony. You stumbled back slightly, gaze flickering around the room.

"Uhm.." A small snort left you, holding onto the counter and raising the bottle of whiskey.

"This?" You answered, head tilting as you smiled widely. Tony raised his brows, eyeing you with a disapproving gaze.

"So what? You drink now?"

"Clint would know if I- Oh, fuck." You caught yourself before you could fall, a small laugh leaving you. "If I touched his beers."

"Barton's drinking too? What a great influence you have, kid." Tony frowned, shaking his head.

"This isn't my first time." You muttered, huffing softly as your eyes narrowed. Tony raised a brow, taking in a deep breath.

"Could've fooled me."

"Sam was pretty sneaky." You giggled softly, putting the bottle down before you could drop it. You didn't notice the way Tony flinched when you put it down a little too hard.

"Drinking isn't the answer to what you're feeling." Tony called, taking a step towards you. You scowled, shaking your head.

"You're a stupidly lucky bastard, Stark." You muttered, taking a step forward. Your hands quickly caught the island, ice covering the area you touched.

"Okay, kid, let's get you to bed before you set this place on fire." Tony said, reaching out towards you. You scoffed, smacking his hands away.

"Don't touch me, asshole." You snapped, hands heating up and turning the ice to water. Tony didn't want you to have an outburst and make a sinkhole swallow the facility.

"It's been two years. Two years since everyone just.. Poof! Gone! What did you lose, huh? A kid you barely knew? Your pride?" You raised your brows, staring at him. His face was fuzzy and the room was slightly spinning.

"What did you lose? Your parents were already dead, your bestie is alive, your wife is alive, you're expecting a kid! You lost nothing." You sneered, glaring at him with glossy eyes.

"Everyone I love is gone but you get to start a new life with Ms. Pans or whatever her fucking name is. You get to have a family while I have to live without mine.. Clint.. Clint doesn't even come home half the time!" Your brows lowered, body trembling as you tried fighting back tears.

"I think we should talk about something." Tony said softly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes and licking your lips.

"Yeah? What? Gonna tell me I'm immature again?" You asked, letting out a small fake laugh. You looked away from him when tears began to slip down your cheeks.

"Why do I keep losing everyone?" You sobbed, taking in short breaths. Tony's gaze softened, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"It's not your fault, (Y/N)." He said softly, frowning. Tony had never seen you vulnerable. You were usually snappy and feisty with him.

"I d-didn't try hard enough." You breathed out, a quiet whimper escaping you.

"All of us could've tried harder. All of us wish we did. Don't you think Thor feels the way way you do? He's just angry instead of sad. No clue where he flew off but.." Tony sighed, eyes shutting as he thought of things to say that wouldn't piss you off. You turned and stared at him for a moment before reaching out and grabbing the back of his head, leaning forward. Your lips met his though your mind didn't process that you were kissing a married man with a baby on the way. You pulled away from the stunned billionaire, patting his chest.

"You suck." You whispered, eyes becoming droopy before you collapsed. Tony quickly caught you before you could hit the ground, clearing his throat.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y? Could you contact Rhodey? I need some assistance." Tony dragged your body towards one of the couches nearby, laying you on your side in case you had to vomit. Tony stared down at you, taking in your flushed, tear stained cheeks. He raised a hand to his lips, gently touching them. He shook his head, looking down at his ring with a heavy sigh.

"What's up, Tony?" Rhodes asked, gaze immediately dropping onto you.

"Could I charge him for underage drinking?" Tony asked, looking at him. Rhodes shook his head, chuckling.

"He turned 23 last month. Sent him a birthday card and a small cactus plant." Rhodes told him, approaching the couch.

"How come I'm never told of his birthdays?"

"Cause he doesn't like you." Rhodes answered simply, grabbing your legs as Tony hooked his arms under your armpits. They got you to your old bedroom in the facility, thought it took them a while. Tony propped up a pillow under your head, placing a trash can beside the bed.

"What would a kid like him want on their birthday?" Tony asked, looking at Rhodes as he put his hands on his hips.

"His boyfriend back." Rhodes muttered. Tony blinked, turning his head to look at him with wide eyes.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, Barnes. I found out when we went to Wakanda. They were all over each other. Never thought he'd have a thing for older guys but.. I gotta admit, Barnes is an attractive dude." Rhodes shrugged, gently bringing the covere up over your shoulders. He gently rubbed your shoulder, sighing.

"He's a good kid. I guess I gotta lock up whenever he comes over. I'm surprised he even still bothers being here. Thor's nowhere to be found, you're barely even here.. God knows where Clint is. He hasn't visited yet."

"I'm gonna retire." Tony announced, looking at Rhodes. Rhodes raised his brows, looking at him.

"I wanna give Morgan a good life. One where she sees her father every day." Tony explained. They both turned to you when they heard you groan and gag, throwing up into the trash can and almost falling off the bed.

"I'll go get him a water bottle and painkillers." Rhodes mumbled, turning around and leaving the room. Tony nodded, licking his lipd and sighing softly.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" You asked in hoarse voice, slowly getting up. You sluggishly walked towards the bathroom, washing your mouth.

"I wouldn't bother. You're probably gonna throw up-" Tony cringed, hearing you throw the toilet seat up and vomit again. Rhodes entered the room, placing the pill bottle down and glancing into the bathroom.

"Should I contact Clint?" Rhodes asked, looking at Tony.

"He can come here when he realizes his son isn't home." Tony replied, glancing at Rhodes before turning around and leaving the room. Rhodes nodded, walking towards the bathroom and placing a hand on the doorway.

"Need help?" He asked, head tilting. You shook your head, grabbing toilet paper and using it to blow your nose. Rhodes hummed, leaving the room as well. You pushed yourself off the floor, walking to the sink and washing your mouth again. Your throat burned and you could taste what you had for dinner. With a heavy sigh, you approached the bed, collapsing onto it. Your arms wrapped around one of the pillows, nuzzling into it. You turned your head when someone entered the room.

"Read this when you have a clear head." Tony said quietly, placing a file on the nightstand. You furrowed your brows, a frown tugging at your lips. You were tempted to look at the file but your body desperately needed sleep.

The next morning, you woke up with a raging headache. Your mind and body were still tired but you weren't sure if what you needed was sleep or actual therapy. You noticed the trash can you had thrown up in was gone as you pulled your legs over the edge of the bed. The yellow file caught your eye again. You sighed, deciding to use the bathroom before anything else. You picked up the pill bottle, taking two tablets and pushing them down with some water. You licked your lips, putting the water bottle down and taking a seat on the bed. You picked up the file, placing it on your lap. You stared at the writing on the front in sharpie.

(Y/N) BARTON

"Is this.. My file?" You blinked, flipping it open and seeing your picture in the top right corner followed by your information.

"Why would I need this?" You flipped to the next page, seeing a picture of an unknown woman.

Florine De Meyers (Could be a false name) is believed to be (Y/N) Bartons' aunt from his fathers side.

Your mouth went dry as you reread the sentence over and over again. After almost six to seven years with the Avengers, you had never been told about your family. It was always your parents being unknown yet here was a piece of information stating you had a relative. You closed the file, standing up and leaving the room. You made your way to Tonys' office, tossing the file on his desk. Tony looked up from the box in his hands, glancing between you and the file.

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, arms crossing. Tony carefully placed the box down, clearing his throat.

"Your file."

"Yeah, I know that, dipshit." You sneered, earning a pointed look from him. Tony sighed, picking the file up and going to the second page.

"You-"

"Shut up and sit down." Tony ordered. You glared at him, sitting down on one of the chairs.

"Florine De Meyers is a 47 year old woman from Lasne, Belgium. It's unknown if Florine De Meyers is her real name since not much is known about her. It's stated that she had a brother but no information came up about him. We, well more like F.R.I.D.A.Y, went through your blood test and searched for any relatives. She's the closest living relative you have." Tony said, putting the file down. Your leg bounced as you tried to stay calm, taking in soft deep breaths.

"So, all this time I could've been learning about my family? Why didn't you tell me sooner?! She might've been snapped away too!"

"Quite frankly, you seemed happy with Barton and his family. Plus, I forgot about it while trying to save the world a few times." Tony answered, picking up trophies and medals, putting them in the box.

"Does Clint know?" You asked softly.

"Nope. Romanoff doesn't know, Banner doesn't know, Thor doesn't know, Rogers... Well, as far as I know, he's unaware but he very well could." Tony shrugged, closed the box and taping it.

"She lives in Belgium?"

"That's what I said. Though, you might not be from Belgium. We think she's your fathers half sister. So, your father and her share a parent. It's why we had some difficulty finding anyone. Your parents made sure nobody could make any connections. Whether it was protect you or to protect themselves, we'll never know. Florine might know though. F.R.I.D.A.Y, what's the most recent security footage of Florine De Meyers?"

"Florine De Meyers was seen in a supermarket last thursday." F.R.I.D.A.Y answered, making a picture of a security footage appear. You stared at the picture, sighing softly.

"Where's Nat?" You asked.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"Contacting Agent Romanoff." You stood up, pulling the file towards yourself and looking down at the picture as Tony spoke with Natasha. Florine seemed to have a permanet frown on her face, eyes hard and icy.

"Romanoff is on her way. She can accompany you to Lanse." Tony said, watching you with a small frown.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." You looked up at him in surprise. Tony was never one for apologies.

"I thought that if.. Your parents wanted to desperately protect you, I should respect their wishes and do the same. You're a big boy now. It's up to you to decide what you want to do now." Tony said, placing the box down and looking at you with a gentle gaze. You swallowed, nodding as you rubbed your arm.

"Uhm... I'm sorry for being a dick and insulting you." You apologized as well, choosing to ease the tension between you and Tony.

"What's up?" You turned to look at Natasha, picking up the file and closing it.

"I need a ride to Belgium."

[yourmidnightlover]

i’ll never be ready

Summary: when you've been taken by the recent unsub, you both come to a shocking realization.

TW: torture, self-hatred (derek, spencer), scars, noah (the sucky date guy), angst, fluff if you squint. let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,486

————————————————————————

saying the case was rough was under kill-which, ironically, was opposite of the unsub's mo. everyone had nearly lost count of how long they had been awake. 36, maybe 38 hours of nonstop work? going over case files and reviewing them for something - anything you might've missed. it all seemed a bit pointless because each time you reread a file you felt your eyes dropping down, threatening to betray you and make you succumb to the sleep.

"y/n," hotch spoke. "you've been up the longest. go back to the hotel with derek and get some rest. be back here in 5 hours," he demanded in a soft tone.

"won't argue with that," you chuckled best you could before morgan grabbed the keys, ushering the two of you to the car.

your hotel room was a few doors down from morgan's. he bid you goodnight before he opened his door, allowing you to continue on to your room. you decided to get a bottle of water - the sleep deprivation probably making you feel more dehydrated than you actually were.

after you paid for the bottle, you took a swig of it and trudged on to your room. only, you didn't make it. it felt as though the sleep you yearned for had finally taken over as it was accompanied by a throbbing migraine in the back of your head.

-

"what's taking them so long?" emily asked, looking at hotch for answers.

l"i'm not sure. i told them to only be gone for fi-" he was cut off by morgan slamming into the police station.

"she's gone," he uttered plainly, worriedly as he avoided any eye contact with the rest of the team.

"what do you mean 'she's gone?'" jj argued, feeling the worry bubble up inside of her as morgan continued talking.

"i knocked on her door to let her know that we had to leave. i-i thought she might've just slept through her alarm. but then she never answered," his eyes finally met someone on the team's. "i kicked through the door and the bed -it-it wasn't even slept in. i'm so sorry," he mumbled to that particular team member.

spencer felt his heart drop in his chest. he wasn't angry, per say. he was furious. he was frustrated and confused and wanted to hit something - someone. but not morgan. he wasn't mad at morgan. it wasn't his fault you were gone. at least that's what he thought until Garcia pulled up the footage from 6 hours ago.

the image of derek going inside his room, allowing you to wander past yours and retrieve the water before walking halfway back to yours, only to be hit over the head, was the only thing he could see. and what he did see... well, what he saw was in red.

"you didn't even walk her to her room?!" spencer accused derek.

"kid, we were all tired. i'm sorry, i really am," he pleaded with the young man.

"don't 'kid' me! 'sorry' won't bring her back! we know what this guy does to people and you didn't even make sure she was safe!" spencer walked closer to derek. "i can't believe you. we all had a discussion about how she was the unsub's type. you knew that and you still let her get taken," he poked his finger in his chest.

"i didn't let her do anything. i didn't want this to happen, reid," morgan tried to calm him down, only for them to be interrupted by jj coming into the room, asking for spencer to come with her before promptly leaving derek by himself. "i-i swear, babygirl, i didn't think th-"

"that's the problem, derek," she cut him off. "you didn't think," she said in a calm, sweet tone. "i love you, i truly do, but even when your guards are down when you're tired... you need to think."

"i know... i know. i don't- i don't know what to do now," he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"now you go be the hero i know you are," garcia smiled before signing off, leaving derek staring at a blank, black screen.

-

"look who's up," the unsub sang as you turned your head whilst lying on the cold, steel table. "before you try anything, there's no point in fighting. you're strapped down with reinforcements and the room is sealed with a steel door that can only be unlocked with my key."

"so what? should i just let you do whatever you want to me?" you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, observing the state of the room.

it wasn't very clean. it was dirty and grungy and the smell was absolutely horrid. you nearly gagged upon looking to the corner of the room, seeing an abundance of takeout and old pizza boxes - clearly old and moldy.

"that'll happen regardless, sweetheart," he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, humming as he did so. "such a beautiful girl, truly," his hand travelled further south, grasping your neck tightly with the one hand before he brought a second one up to join it.

you stared him in his hooded eyes as he strangled you gently. you didn't make a show if it - that's where he got off. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. although you would have to throw him a bone so he wouldn't kill you.

he was a sexual sadist. he got the relief from your pain and struggle. he would keep at it until you gave him what he wanted - your pain.

the profile had revealed that the unsub had a history of hatred for women from his own mother - who was most likely abusive. it was assumed that his father left at an early age and his mother blamed him for his departure.

"damnit!" he slapped your face, relinquishing his grip on your throat to allow you to breathe.

"what? can the big-strong-tough-guy not get off?" you mocked him, another slap hitting your face.

"shut UP!" he shouted at you. "when i get back you better be more cooperative," he spat out before grabbing a duffel bag and leaving.

a sigh of relief left you when the doors shut, hearing the deadbolt latch lock to signal you were stuck. you wriggled your wrists around, noticing they were bound by leather straps, as were your ankles.

-

"alright," hotch began as they gathered in the makeshift conference room, "so he has a 12 hour lead on us with her. we've profiled that the unsub keeps all the women at the same location. it'd be too difficult to move them with all the equipment he uses on them..." he looked towards spencer as he spoke, wanting to make sure he was alright.

"this has to be a power assertion move," emily added.

"you're right," rossi agreed. "taking a fbi agent would make him arrogant."

"so maybe he'll screw up? maybe we could find her?" spencer lit up at the brief sight of hope.

"don't get too excited, we still need him to make that mistake. but, yes, there's hope," hotch agreed.

penelope appeared all too sudden on the laptop screen, looking rather worried before she announced, "i'm gonna send you the video that just appeared on every screen in my bat cave. just... be prepared."

and then you were there.

you were strapped to the table, your shirt cut open to reveal your skin to the screen. the camera seemed to be hovering above the bed, focused on your body and the marks that already adorned it. you had a hand-shaped bruise on your trachea; a bruise on your cheekbone underneath your eye was contrasting your pale skin. the gag in your mouth held it open in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. you looked tired. reasonably so, you never did get that proper rest you wanted.

and spencer would never get to tell you what he wanted if you couldn't make it out of there alive.

he never thought of you as anything but a friend but now that there was the possibility of you not making it back to him, he couldn't help but feel different about you. his heart was aching and he knew it would never stop until he was able to give it to you. now, he knew he wanted to hold you as more than a friend. he wanted to dance with you romantically rather than a silly platonic friendly thing. he wanted to kiss you, and tell you that he'd never leave you alone again. he just wanted you.

"look at how pretty she is lying there on the table," a voice that was off-screen cheered out. "although she's always quite the hottie, isn't that right... spencer? was that the name you told me, agent?" he grasped your chin, forcing your face to contort as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp. "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed before releasing your face.

your eyes welled with tears upon the realization that the team might not make it to you on time. you had tried to put up a fight - you swore you did. but you could only fight so hard for so long. the light left your eyes in the form of tears streaming down your face, leaving them on display for your own team to mourn with you.

"looks like he won't be saving you, after all," he chuckled as shuffling was heard from over the screen. "let's see if they like the show, huh?" he brought a knife from out of his bag before removing the gag from your mouth.

"turn it off! turn it off!" you begged. "they-they don't need to see this, hudson," you revealed his name.

"hudson was the deputy that went home 13 hours ago. he was the one that gave us the files and intel on people in town. i guess he didn't actually go home," reid reminded the team.

"shut up, BITCH!" hudson wiped the knife down your right arm, a light hiss leaving your mouth from the intrusion.

"how about we get something to eat, yea? order some more jonny's pizza?" you emphasized before the knife went back into your skin, this time on the other arm.

"jonny's pizza is in a neighborhood only 10 miles away from here. hudson might own property near there. garcia?" spencer announced once more.

"on it," penelope declared before working her magic. "it says here that hudson's family owns an old restaurant that was shut down three years ago. it was passed on to him once his mother died. i'm sending the address your way."

"morgan, you're with me and emily-"

"i'm going with you," reid interjected.

"are you sure you're in the right-"

"i have to see her. i have to... i have to make sure she's okay," spencer tried to reason. hotch sighed before nodding his head in agreement.

they brought an ipad with them so they could watch as they traveled to the location. your arms were bleeding, but he had avoided the major arteries that would've killed you. your sobs wracked through the device, shattering spencer's heart more than he thought possible.

when they got to the restaurant, there were wooden boards surrounding every entrance. they left the sirens off in hopes to not scare the unsub into killing you.

"fbi!" morgan did his classic entrance, kicking the door in promptly. "hudson williams! fbi!" he led the team to the back of the room where a large, steel door rested.

spencer and hotch went to the sides of morgan, nodding at him to continue before he kicked the door in. the three, followed by more swat members, flooded inside the room quickly. spencer's eyes locked on yours as you lay on the table, looking sideways to see him. he saw the tears flow from your eyes as the unsub swung his knife up into the air, intent on stabbing you once more, this time fatally. spencer could swear he saw you mouth something to him before a shot rang through the air.

he looked to his side to see morgan had fired the shot that killed hudson, his knife falling beside your body as your body began shaking with sobs.

"let me go! let me go ple-please! get these off!" your arms struggled at the restraints before spencer holstered his gun, running to your side to work at the leather bindings.

"i'm here," he undid your wrists before you wrapped them around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder before sobs overtook you. "you're safe now, you're safe," his hand stroked the back of your head as you cried into his skin. "here," he pulled back momentarily before he shrugged off his vest and cardigan, handing you the cardigan to pull over your body.

"thanks," you sniffled as you pulled it tight over your body, covering your exposed state before embracing spencer once more, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

"i'm never letting you go again, y/n," he whispered before placing a kiss to your hairline. "never."

"good," you responded before he took you in his arms, carrying you to the ambulance that made it's way to the restaurant soon after they did.

you were severely dehydrated. the lacerations on your arm caused you to lose a lot of blood. you had a concussion. but you would be okay. you were alive. by some miracle, you were alive. you were alive and he'd never let you out of his sight again.

the entire time you were gone, you couldn't stop thinking about spencer. i mean, yes, your team entered your mind but not as much as spencer. who did you cry out for when he would hurt you? spencer. where would you go to distract you from what was going on? spencer's arms. spencer was the answer to all of your problems. it was spencer.

"spencer?" you asked as your head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as a mild attempt to keep you warm.

"yes?" he turned his head down to face your droopy face.

"i..." you stopped once you realized what you had planned on revealing. "please don't leave?"

"i won't," he gently took your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to see his. "i promise."

you nodded your head contentedly, satisfied with his answer. you couldn't say anything about how you felt now of all times. you needed him, as selfish as that seemed. you needed him to lean on as a crutch right now. telling him how you feel is risky. he could run away and distance himself from you once you open your mouth. so instead, you'd keep it shut.

as the weeks went by, your wounds healed. your heart tried to mend itself as time went on, but the process wasn't as smooth as it was with your external wounds. it was a rollercoaster process. you tried to convince yourself that you didn't love spencer. each night when he would come to your house to check up on you and watch a tv show or movie, you allowed yourself to imagine a life with him. a life where you didn't have to hide your feelings from him.

and spencer thought that telling you right after might've brought on too much stress for you. he thought it would be selfish to tell you such a thing after you nearly died. so, he pushed his feelings down as well.

and then penelope happened.

she had set you up on a date with one of sam's friends from counter-terrorism. you didn't really want to go, but you felt bad enough after skipping all of the girls' nights once you got abducted. so, you had gotten ready.

you wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt, the sleeves to avoid a conversation with a stranger you truly weren't ready for. to be honest, you were dreading whatever would happen tonight. you had mentioned the date to spencer, telling him how you didn't even want to go anywhere; you weren't ready to go out in public by yourself yet. he wasn't excited for you, who would be after you confessed your hesitance on going anywhere.

"i'm heading out now, spence," you walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where spencer was standing, waiting for you to get ready.

"al-alright," he nodded before turning towards you. "you look... you look beautiful, y/n," he sighed, making you blush lightly.

"thank you," you went to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. "for everything," you kissed his cheek before pulling away. "i don't think it'll be that long, i hope it's not that long," you chuckled before continuing, "so i'll see you after?"

"uhm, yea," he agreed. "i'll see you later."

you sighed before grabbing your keys and leaving, driving to the restaurant penny had told you to go to. it had only been two months since your abduction. you hadn't been anywhere without someone with you, most of the time it was spencer. you parked the car, grabbing your purse from the passenger seat and placing it in your lap.

you shouldn't have come. you shouldn't have done anything. you should've stayed with spencer. you should've let him know how you felt. you should've...

you felt tears well in your eyes before you pushed those thoughts down. you took a deep breath to compose yourself before you walked into the restaurant. you were led to the table noah miller would be at by the host.

"hi," noah greeted you.

"hi," you tried your best to muster up a smile as you sat down.

"uhm, penelope mentioned how beautiful you were, but i think it was severe underkill," he chuckled,

"oh, wow, thank you," you smiled. "you look pretty great yourself," you motioned. there was a moment of unsettling silence before you continued, "i haven't been out in a while. so, be patient with me tonight."

"sam mentioned that you went through something... an abduction, i believe?" you nodded your head. "that is beyond cool. do you... do you have any scars?" his eyes widened at the thought.

"ex-excuse me?" you furrowed your brows at the question.

"do you have any scars from the abduction?" he asked once more as if he didn't sense what was wrong with it in the first place.

"you... you're seriously asking to see the scars from when i was almost killed?" you scoffed before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"are those your scars?" he awed as he pointed towards your arms, the sleeves had ridden up on your skin.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you jerked your sleeves down once more before you stood up and grabbed your purse. "i hope you rot in hell you freak."

you ran out to your car before calling spencer, tears already streaming down your face as you locked your car door.

"spencer reid," he answered the phone.

"spence?" you sniffled, wiping your nose.

"y/n? what is it? what happened?" he rose from his spot on his couch, shutting his book worriedly.

"i just... the date it - i need you, spencer," you cried out once more.

"do you need me to pick you up or are you alright to drive to my place?"

"i-i can drive," you replied as you wiped your tears.

"alright," he said. "i'll be waiting. should i stay on the phone with you as you drive? you could put me on speaker?"

"yea-yes, please," you answered before putting the phone on speaker.

you drove there as he read his book to you. his voice calmed you down a bit... only a little bit. not as much as his touch would. so, you sped there as fast you could without getting pulled over.

once you knocked on his door it opened in a matter of milliseconds. spencer's arms went around your waist as yours went around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. your sobs rang through spencer's skin as he rubbed circles into your back, walking the two of you inside his apartment before he closed the door.

"what happened?" spencer asked as you curled into him whilst sitting on the couch.

"the guy wanted to see the scars," you sniffled. "when i got upset he saw them because my sleeves rolled up and well... the rest is history," you chuckled humorlessly.

"he really...?" spencer leaned back to look you in the eyes.

"yea... i know," you rolled you eyes.

"well whoever that guy is sucks. he doesn't deserve you," he twirled your hair in his fingers before continuing. "would you want to talk about it?"

"mm-mm," you shook your head. "not yet. i'm not ready."

and then it was more than abundantly clear. you might not ever be ready to tell him.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

[emm-jayy]

baby (ii) - spencer reid

Summary: Spencer grieves the loss of you

warnings: sad spence

style of fic heavily inspired by @erin-bo-berin ‘baby shoes’

series masterlist

gif not mine

One minute

As soon as he knows you are completely gone, Spencer lets go. A wrecked sob comes out of his mouth, and he begins to cradle your body.

He apologizes profusely to you, even though he knows you can’t hear him.

Then, he hears the sirens. Spencer stays in his spot, still cradling you.

The medics come into the room, with a stretcher and backboard.

“You’re too late.” Spencer says quietly, no emotion evident in his voice.

“Sir, i’m going to need you to move away from her.” The medic says, crouching down to meet Spencer’s level.

“You’re too late!” Spencer screams this time, his words turning into another sob as soon as he says them.

At that point, Morgan, and the other members of the team walk in.

Morgan walks up behind Spencer, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You’ve got to let her go Reid.” Morgan says.

Spencer doesn’t answer, he only slow rocks himself.

“Spencer!” Morgan says, louder this time. Spencer snaps out of the daze he is in, and sets your body down.

Spencer presses a kiss to his hand, and presses it against your cheek.

One Day

The ride back on the jet is silent. The team had decided to take themselves off the case, letting local police find Jackson Price.

No one wants to talk about it, and rightfully so. Everyone on the team knew that Spencer was taking it the hardest. Price literally told Spencer to save you, and he couldn’t.

Spencer hated the sympathetic looks and touches he got. Nothing compared to how it felt when you touched him. And every time he thought about how he would never get to experience that again, he broke down.

Spencer had decided not to tell anyone the moment you two had had before you died. That was to be your moment, that was how Spencer wanted it.

The plane lands, and Spencer silently grabs his bag, walking off the plane. He gets into his car, and drives to his apartment.

Spencer isn’t sure what his plan is for when he gets back into his apartment.

He unlocks the door to his apartment, and sets his bag down onto the table.

He figures he’d just watch some Doctor Who or something, get his mind off things.

But everything in his apartment reminds him of you.

The glass that you gave out as party favors to the first party you threw.

The book on his coffee table you insisted he buy.

Even the couch looked like it had the imprint of you in it, you sat there so much.

His whole apartment screamed your name, and Spencer puts his hands over his ears, as if not to hear it.

He eventually crumbles onto his bed, falling into a sleep, filled with dreams of you.

One week

Your funeral was a week after your death. Spencer decided he could gather himself for it. Ir was the least he could do to honor your memory. Spencer drove to the venue with the team, they all claimed he shouldn’t drive alone.

The team was the ones who were to carry your casket. The walk seemed to go in slow motion, everyone staring at them.

As the service began, Spencer wanted to scream. He wanted to scream out that this isn’t what you would have wanted.

You always joked that you wanted to attend your own funeral, just to make sure everyone had fun. Spencer knew that you wouldn’t want this, he knew that you wouldn’t want the eulogies to drag on, or for everyone to be sad.

Spencer wanted to scream all of these things out, but he didn’t.

Whenever everyone put a flower on your casket, Spencer is one of the last to go.

He sets the flower onto your casket. He presses a kiss to his hand, and then presses his hand to your casket.

Spencer doesn’t attend the reception, it would have been too much.

One month

One month after your death, Spencer goes back to work.

The team is in a meeting, learning about their new case when he walks in. The whole team had told Spencer to take as long as he needed, and they were surprised to see him back so soon.

“Hey guys.” Spencer says, in a low voice. He sits down next to Morgan and Rossi.

“Hey kid.” Morgan says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Spencer tenses at the nickname. He had gotten maybe a little bit better at things that reminded him of you, but it was still incredibly hard.

Spencer clears his throat, “Could you maybe.. not call me that Derek?” He asks, keeping his voice low.

Morgan nods, tentatively taking his hand off of Reid’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re ready to work, Spence?” JJ asks, looking toward him sympathetically.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Spencer says, holding his ground.

What the team didn’t know, is that Spencer had been working for the past month.

He had been trying to find Jackson Price. He had been constantly studying Price’s behaviors. Trying to figure out where he would go, where he would strike next, if he would even strike next.

Spencer had even taken a trip back to California, without the FBI’s knowledge.

An obsession had formed, but Spencer was too grief-driven to ignore it.

JJ nods, and Garcia begins to deliver the case. It was a double homicide in Florida, with a note left at the scene that indicated more murders to come.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says, standing up.

Spencer stays at the table for a moment, processing the fact that he will be working a case, without you there.

Tears had become familiar to Spencer over the past month, so he wiped away the forming new ones on instinct.

He clears his throat, and walks out of the briefing room.

Three months

Three months after your death, Hotch has to hold grief assessments.

He saves Spencer’s for last, as it was arguably the most important.

“How are you doing Reid? I know that you and Y/n had a close relationship.” Hotch asks, testing the waters.

“Do you want me to lie, or tell the truth?” Spencer says, answering a question with a question.

“Obviously I’d prefer you tell the truth.” Hotch says, looking at Spencer.

“Did I ever tell you what Jackson Price said before he shot Y/n?” Spencer asks, his leg bouncing.

“No, I don’t believe you did.” Hotch says.

“He told me to try to keep her alive until the medics came.” Spencer says, a tear falling down his face as he relived the experience.

“He told me he wanted to see how good of a “doctor” I really was.” Spencer continues, “But she was ready to let go Hotch. You should’ve seen her. She made jokes, while she was minutes away from dying!” Spencer laughs in the middle of the tears that were falling.

“I held her hand, and I felt the life leave from it. So Hotch, I’m not really feeling okay.” Spencer stands up, wiping tears from his face.

“Feel free to say i’m not ready to be a part of this team. Because without Y/n on it, I'm not sure I want to be.” And with that, Spencer leaves.

Six months

Six months after your death, Spencer feels like he betrayed you.

He told someone what had actually happened in your final moments.

Spencer isn’t sure what came over him, he had repeated over and over again to himself, that that moment was to only be for you two.

But whenever someone would mention you, it would always begin with “Spencer’s friend Y/n” and he hated that.

You weren’t just friends, and that was something Spencer knew long before you died. There was always a special bond there.

Whenever you would go over to Spencer’s apartment and have a movie marathon, you two would be as close as can be.

You would fall asleep on him, and it would help Spencer go to sleep faster.

Every time you would touch him when he was feeling stressed, it would put him at ease.

You two were more than friends, but there was the unspoken rule that you couldn’t be together.

The unspoken rule that it couldn’t work, you two had both seen too much horror.

Spencer didn’t need to be in a defined relationship with you to enjoy who you were as a person, and how you made him feel.

He was just glad he got closure in the end, and you died knowing how he felt about you.

Penelope was the first person he told about your final moments.

It was during one of the times Spencer came over to her apartment. They had been doing it a lot more often. Penelope and Spencer were the closest to you, and they figured it was good to spend time together.

Spencer and her were watching a movie, when Penelope suddenly paused it.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asks, setting the remote down.

“Yeah, what is it?” Spencer replies, furrowing his eyebrows.

“It’s about Y/n.” Penelope says, a slight look of regret on her face.

Spencer clears his throat, looking down, “Go ahead.” He says.

“Is there something you haven’t told us about her death? I’ve just noticed something weighing on you.” Penelope says.

Shock covers Spencer’s face. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice. He was on a team of profilers sure, but they weren’t supposed to profile each other.

He clears his throat again, “Yeah, um..” He begins, working up the courage to tell the story.

“I told you all that Y/n asked me to hold her hand. But after that she asked me a question. She asked me what my biggest regret in life was. I think she was giving me a chance to get something off my chest, because she knew she was dying.” Spencer says, a smile coming onto his face as he remembers how thoughtful you were.

“I told her that my biggest regret in life was not telling her how I felt about her.” Spencer continues, “And then she said she loved me, and I said it back. Then we kissed. Then she closed her eyes, I like to think that she wanted the last thing she saw to be my face, the happiest it’s ever been. Because it was. I’ve never been happier than in that moment.” Spencer says, his voice breaking and the tears falling freely.

Penelope envelops him in a hug, and he returns it. For the past 6 months, he’d been crying alone. It felt great to tell someone finally.

“Would you like to know something?” Penelope asks, breaking away from the hug to look Spencer in the eye.

“What?” Spencer asks, keeping his voice low in hopes it wouldn’t break again.

“I want to say it was a month after she came to the BAU, Y/n came into the tech room, nervously telling me how cute she thought you were. She finished by saying that she just enjoyed spending time with you, and that she always cherished your time together.” Penelope tells him.

Spencer smiles. He remembers the time he had that realization too.

You had brought him coffee one day, and you remembered just how he liked it. Spencer didn’t even remember telling you, so maybe you had just picked up on it.

“I really miss her.” Spencer confesses.

“I know honey, I miss her too.” Penelope replies.

After that, Spencer is a bit more open to the team.

One year

One year after your death, Spencer has a very bad day.

He has a nightmare the night before the one year anniversary of your death. The exact same events replay, but at the end, you tell him how much you hate him. How he couldn’t do anything to save you.

Spencer wakes up in a cold sweat, heavily breathing. He shakes himself, assuring himself it isn’t real.

He hasn’t had a dream like that in months, and it shakes him.

The team isn’t on a case thankfully, so Spencer picks up his phone, and calls Hotch.

“Yeah Reid?” Hotch answers on the second ring.

“Hey Hotch, could I take the day off today?” He asks, voice still sleepy.

“Yes, the entire team is actually taking the day off. It’s a hard day for us all, but I know especially for you.” Hotch says, the sympathy in his voice has been easier to pick up on nowadays.

“Thanks Hotch.” Spencer says, setting down the phone.

He sighs, and gets up to take a shower. His apartment is silent, a reminder of how his life feels without you.

After he gets out of the shower and puts on his clothes, Spencer is at a loss. He has no idea what to do that day.

Nothing feels nice enough to celebrate your life. That’s what he should be doing, right? That’s what you would want him to do, right?

Then, he has an idea.

Spencer grabs his keys, and heads out the door. He gets into his car, and begins to drive.

He arrives at the coffee shop that you two used to go to all the time. Spencer hasn’t been there in a year.

He clears his throat, and gets out of his car. He walks into the shop, the bell ringing, signaling he was there.

Spencer takes in the scene. He looks at the table where you always sat, telling anecdotes about your hometown. He smiles, you were always so talkative.

He walks up to the counter, and orders the coffee you used to always order. Spencer pays, and goes to sit down at your table.

He sits for a moment, remembering, something he’s been doing a lot. And then, his name is called for his drink.

Spencer smiles at the worker who hands him his drink, thanking them. He goes back to your table.

He sits there in silence, drinking his coffee. It’s nice, peaceful even. It felt good to remember you like this.

After Spencer finishes his drink, he stands up to leave. He presses his lips to his hand, and his hand to the table.

Three years

Three years after your death, Jackson Price is found dead.

It was a pretty normal day at the BAU, your death anniversary was coming up, but it seemed that everyone was more content nowadays.

Even Spencer was doing a lot better. He still thought about you often, but mostly good thoughts. His nightmares would only come back around your death date.

Hotch walks into the bullpen, “I need everyone in the briefing room. Now.” He says, walking up to the room already. The rest of the team follows

After everyone sits down, Hotch begins. “This is about Y/n.” He starts. Everyone goes quiet, you haven’t been brought up in a long time.

“Early this morning, a body was found in Southern California. The body has been ID’ed as Jackson Price.” Hotch says.

The room is somehow even more silent than it was before. The only sound is Spencer’s chair scraping the floor as he quickly walks out of the room.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Emily says, following Spencer out of the door.

Emily finds him in one of the many abandoned offices in the building.

She sits beside Spencer, pulling her chair close to his, “What’s the matter Reid? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Emily asks.

Spencer looks up at her, his facial expression difficult to tell because of the darkness of the room.

“That is what I wanted, Emily. But I wanted to be the one who did it. I wanted to shoot him just the way he did Y/n. I spent months looking for him, and I never found him.” Spencer says, shaking his head.

“You never told us that.” Emily says, frowning. Spencer grimaces.

“I didn’t want you all to think I couldn’t move on.” He explains in a low voice.

“Spencer. You have helped each and every one of us with personal vendettas over the years. We would’ve done the same thing in a heartbeat.” Emily tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know, I guess my mind was clouded.” Spencer says, unsure of himself.

“Hey.” Emily says, wrapping Spencer in a hug. Spencer had been way more accepting of those in the past years. “We are all here for you.” Emily says, looking at him.

Spencer nods, his eyes watery, “Do you want to go back in there?” Emily asks him.

Spencer nods again, and they both stand up. When Spencer walks back into the briefing room, everyone gives him sympathetic looks, but not the ones they usually give. They give understanding looks. They’ve all mostly gone through similar things.

Spencer sighs, glad that his family is there for him.

Five years

Five years after you die, Spencer gets into a relationship.

It felt... weird that Spencer had feelings for someone else besides you. Before you died, he really wasn’t one for relationships. His work was too much, and it stopped him from making relationships outside of the FBI.

Then, after you died, he had another excuse. Whenever someone would ask him out, women tended to be more forward than him these days, he would tell them that his girlfriend had died. That he was still mourning the loss of her.

When he met his now girlfriend, Gianna, he had just told her that you were his girlfriend, and you had died in the line of duty.

It was too long of a story to explain that you weren’t actually dating, but the feelings and basically everything else was still there.

Gianna actually reminded him a lot of you. She was bubbly, held a good job, and understood him somewhat.

Gianna was a good person to have as your first girlfriend after a hard breakup, or loss. But something happens that makes Spencer realize that she is not a good fit.

It was around the 5 year anniversary of your death, and Spencer and Gianna had been together for maybe 6 months.

The one thing about Gianna, was that she was very needy. Spencer loved her, and he had expressed that quite recently. It was obvious that Gianna wanted to settle down soon.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t ready for that.

The dreams always came back around your death date, and Spencer had learned to deal with them.

But he didn’t know how to deal with them if someone else was around him.

Gianna was spending the night, it was late and Spencer offered. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but they weren’t living together by any means.

They were both asleep in Spencer’s bed, when Spencer had his dream. It was the same as it usually is, the exact same events of your death replay, but at the end you don’t tell him that you love him.

Spencer wakes up, head shooting up, and he wipes the sweat off of his forehead. He turns, and finds Gianna looking at him. A half-concerned, half- disgusted look is on her face.

“What was that about?” She asks Spencer.

“Oh, um, around her death date, I have nightmares about Y/n.” Spencer says softly. He only told the people on his team about his nightmares.

“Oh.” Gianna said, rubbing her eyes, “It’s been 5 years, I thought those would’ve gone away by now.” She said.

“I watched her die, Gianna.” Spencer says. He always got defensive when it came to you.

“I know, it’s just been a long time.” She explained, “Let’s go back to sleep bub” Gianna says, turning back over.

Spencer laid with his eyes open the rest of the night. He could never sleep after a nightmare with you in it.

Spencer broke up with Gianna shortly after that.

Ten years

Ten years after your death, Spencer visits your grave.

He brings you dandelions. You always said that they were your favorite flower. When Spencer brought up that they were actually weeds, and an invasive species, you said “That’s why I love them. They are outcasts, just like me.”

He smiles at the memory, something he did often.

Spencer thought it was sort of cheesy to talk at someone’s grave, until it came to you.

He decided today would be the first time he’d do it, he wanted to talk to you.

He sits down in front of your headstone, crisscross, and sets the flowers down. Then, he begins to talk.

“Hey Y/n. I think i’ve gotten to the point where I don’t cry when I think of you. I try to only think of good memories of you. God. I really miss you Y/n, I really fucking miss you. I miss the way you would tell me your thoughts on a case, or how you would explain your theories about TV shows. I miss having Harry Potter movie marathons with you. I don’t know. I just miss your energy. I’m glad I got to tell you how I feel Y/n. You deserved that much. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, I wish you would’ve been there to see it. You could’ve helped me through a lot of it. Anyway, I’m rambling. I love you baby. Always have, and always will.”

And with that, Spencer presses a kiss to his hand, and presses his hand to your headstone.

~

@1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio @itsarayofsunshine @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @nanocoool @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @disney-dreams-world @myfavbau @softpeteparker @chaoticsteverogers @throughparisallthroughrome @whollytaciturn @imsuperawkward @pinkprincenamjoon @pprettyboyreid @peterparkurhs @thelimited-unlimited @agentsofblinks @reminiscing-writer @reidswords

[itsthestutterforme]

Coma (Aaron Hotchner)

Y/N falls into a coma after getting hit by a car that ran a red light. The team fears that she might never wake up.

--

Y/N and Hotch have been past lovers but they managed to find a common ground to keep a professional relationship at work. But when Haley died, the first person Aaron turned to was Y/N. He spent countless nights over her house and he didn't have to ask her to hold him. That became first instinct.

Their relationship remained platonic and professional, but they both knew that at the very least, they had each other. Two years have passed and Aaron has met Beth. He seems really happy and geninuely moving forward, but he didn't want to tell Y/N because he feels that she would feel betrayed in some way.

Rossi and Hotch talk about it on the way to the conference room. "I've seen Y/N care more about your wellbeing than her own. How is this any different?" Rossi asks.

"What if she distances herself because she feels that I don't need her anymore?" Hotch asks. "Well do you.. need her?" "Of course," "Why?" "I--" "Good morning, Hotch." Y/N greets as she walks up to him and hands him a cup of coffee that she got for him.

"I saw this and thought of you. I tried it before but I have a feeling that you can make one better." Y/N adds as she hands Rossi a pannettone, an Italian pastry. She smiles at them before walking into the conference room.

Rossi and Hotch look at one another and Rossi says, "Now I see what you mean," "She's just so.." "Perfect for you. You two are on the same wave length." "I lost my chance, Rossi." "You don't know that," "Is everything okay guys?" Y/N asks as she peeks her head out of the conference room.

"Yeah, we're coming," ""Just think about it," Rossi says as he pats Hotch's back. Hotch sits next to Y/N and she repeats, "You sure you're okay?" "Yeah, I'm alright." Y/N doesn't believe it for a second, but she knows that he'll tell her in his own time.

This particular case was dangerous because it involved a schitzophrenic Navy Seal with severe PTSD from his time in the field. Y/N had seen the unsub kill a child and she was dead set on getting him. She knew she should have waited for back up but she wanted to catch him before he kills someone else.

"I'm in pursuit of the unsub," I say over coms. "No, Y/N. You stay and wait for back up." "He's getting away, Hotch. I'm not going to let him kill another kid." Y/N looks both ways before crossing the street.

She dashes across the street when minivan runs a red light and crashes right into Y/N. Her body crushes the windshield as she rolls over the top of the car. The impact of her head smacking against the concrete sends her unconscious. The worst part about it was that Hotch and Morgan stopped at the red light across from Y/N. They watched the whole thing and couldn't do anything about it.

They had to wait for the light to turn green before they rushed over to her. "Y/N!" Hotch says with tears threatening his eyes. He kneels down next to her and presses his fingers to her neck. Mor-" "They're already on the way here," "Y/N, can you hear me?" "She isn't moving," Hotch says to Morgan. "She's probably unconscious," "Damn it! I told her to wait. Why didn't she listen!"

"Hey, yelling at her won't wake her up, man." Morgan states. "That car was going at least 60 miles per hour. There's a chance she's--" "Stop, Hotch. They're on their way. Relax," "I can't relax because I love her!" "I'm sorry, I'm.." "At least you finally admitted it." "She'll wake up, Hotch." Morgan adds as he pats his shoulder.

**

The doctor comes out to a very distressed team. He sighs as he stuff his hands in his pockets. "No, no, please, not again." Garcia says with tears leaving her eyes. "She made it off the operating table but she's in a coma. There's no telling when or if she'll wake up." The doctor explains.

"Come on, man. Don't dismiss her like that. She's strong and she'll make it through this." Morgan defends. "I really hope so," "'Can we see her?" JJ asks. The doctors nods and motions to the room where she was. The team slowly walks in and Garcia falls into Morgan's chest as she sees how many bruises Y/N had littering her face and body.

"Oh God," JJ says as she claps a hand over her mouth. Emily offers JJ a shoulder to cry on.

The only thing they could hear was the high pitch beep of the intubator making sure she's breathing correctly. As well as the beeps of her heart rate. "I can't, I'm sorry." Garcia says as she leaves the room and Morgan follows her. Emily and JJ left the room soon after. "Can I.. have a minute with her?" Hotch asks Rossi. "Of course," Rossi says before closing the door on the way out.

Hotch sighs as he sits down next to her. "I should have told you about Beth. But for some reason, I thought that I was betraying you so I held off and now you." He trails off as tears prick his eyes. "What am I going to tell Jack ab- he loves you and I have no idea what I'm going to do without you." He rests his face into her stomach and cries into it.

Over the course of two months, Y/N was still in a coma and Jack would always ask to visit her whenever he was sad. There was something about Y/N that just calmed him down. Anyone that went around Y/N would feel calm and collected, that's just the vibe she gave. Hotch would always visit her whenever he needed to clear his head, which happened more times than not.

Hotch was feeling angry the entire day because one of the nurses gave him a pamphlet that talks about letting go and accepting loss. Y/N wasn't dead, she was in a coma. There a chance of her waking up. Hotch thinks to himself.

"Hey, are you okay?" Morgan asks Hotch, pulling him out of his thoughts. "The doctor thinks we should pull the plug," Hotch says, clenching his jaw.

"They have no right to say that. It's been two months, not two years. There's still a chance for her!" Morgan snaps. "I know, but I'm.. what if she doesn't wake up." "Don't you dare give up on her, Hotch." "Believe me, I haven't and it cost me Beth." "Hotch-" "The little free time I have, I spend visiting Y/N. And Jack has been asking about her since the accident. Beth feels like we're shutting her out,"

"Are you?" "Not intentionally. I was just so used to Y/N. I feel like I've taken her for granted and there's no way of her knowing. It's been eating at me for months." "Hey, studies have shown that coma patients can hear people when they're under," "I don't know what I'm going to do, Morgan." Hotch runs a hand over his face and Morgan was about to say something when Hotch's phone rings.

"Hotchner," Hotch answers and his face softens when he hears the nurse saying that Y/N has woken up. Hotch decides to keep that information between him and Morgan. He didn't want the rest of the team distracted like he was. Images of Y/N smiling and the sound of her laugh echoes through his mind. She's awake. She's finally awake.

**

Y/N's POV

My throat still stings from the intubator rubbing against my vocal cords. The doctor insisted that I drink a lot of fluids and the nurses helped reintroduce my muscles to the different movements. And now they- my calfs in particular- are screaming at me right now. I look at the TV in the top left corner.

There was some cheesy hallmark movie on but my mind drifts off to hearing Aaron's voice. Hearing him cry. Hearing everyone cry for me was worse than getting ran over by a car. The sound of the doctor's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "She said she wanted to speak with Agent Hotchner privately," the doctor says.

Seconds later, Aaron appears in the door frame. "Hi," I cringe at both how raspy my voice is and how painful it was to talk. "Hi," he whispers. "How's Beth?" "We separated a few weeks ago," "I'm sorry to h-hear that," I trail off into a cough and reach for my water. He rushes over to my side and hands me the bottle. A rush of seratonin explodes in my brain as the cold water soothes my throat.

"You shouldn't be talking. It's too soon." he says. "But I have so much to say," "Me too, but we have time. The team is really eager to ta-" "I saw a light," I interrupt as I see him advance for the door. He stops in his tracks and I continue, "The light was bright and warm.. and it smelled of vanilla oil and honey. Everything drew me to it and I was so close to it that I could almost taste it."

"What drew you back?" "You did," I watch as Hotch plays his hands on his hips and drop his gaze to the ground. He was trying to hide his tears. "I heard everyone but you and Jack were the most clear." Hotch doesn't say anything but I hear a soft sob leave his lips. "Hotch?" He shakes his head and I slowly move my legs over the edge of the bed.

I inhale sharply as my feet makes contact with the ice cold floor. I take the rack with my IV catheter attached to it and walk over to him in small steps. He finally looks up to see me standing and his eyes widened. "What are you doing?" He takes me into his arms and I softly moan at the warm radiating off of his body. "I'm tired of waiting," I explain.

I wipe the tears from under his eyes and hold his face in my hands. "The fear of losing you makes the blood run cold in my veins. The doctor wanted me to pull the plug and-" I shush him and he whimpers. "I'm here now, Aaron." I rest my face into his collarbone and smell his alluring cologne. "I'm so sorry that I doubted you and took you for granted. I-I love you so much," he cries.

"Marry me," I say as tears escape my eyes. His eyes snap to mine and my breath leaves my lungs. "Like I said. I'm tired of waiting. If I learned anything it's that life is short and I don't want to waste any more time not being w-". He crashes his lips against mine and I finally feel the air restoring in my lungs.

My eyes flutter closed as our lips move against one another. His tongue dips into my mouth and I groan against his lips. His hands slide down to my lower back and I pull him closer by his beck. He pulls away from me but I find myself following his lips.

"Yes, I'll marry you." "You will?" "Of course,". He rests his forehead against mine and I lovingly rub my nose against his. "Did I just hear a proposal?" Rossi says as he walks in. "Proposal?!" Garcia yells. "Finally!" Emily says and everyone filled into the room.

Hotch positions me so his chest and pressing against my back. His arms wraps around my waist and would occasionally kiss my temple. Everyone all tried to talk to me all at once, something that I truly missed. I don't regret running away from the light at all. This is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

[thewolfswriting]

The Dangers Of A Demon Chapter 3

Pairings: Demon Alpha!Dean x Katarina Morgan (Omega OC)

Word count: 2,009

Chapter Warnings: Profanity, Scent Marking, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Dub-con, Non-consensual claiming 18+ content just don’t read if you’re under the age of 18

Taglist: @charmed-asylum

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

With a snarl, Dean kicked the cabin door open so hard it bounced off the wall. Even though he told the Omega to shut up, she still screamed at him the whole way back. He kicked the door shut behind him before throwing her to the floor with a thud. With tears flowing down her face she crawled backward until her back pressed against the nightstand. The fear grew more within her when he picked up the knife from the floor.

"Did you really think you could fucking escape?! He yelled while taking a fistful of her hair and pointing the knife at her face "Where the hell do you think you were going?!"

"I was trying to get away from you!" She all but yelled eyeballing the sharp object that's uncomfortably close to her face.

"You're not going anywhere until I decide when I'm gonna kill you. Understand?!"

She sobbed "Y-yes."

"Good. Now, get back up on that fucking bed and stay there." He pointed towards the bed with the knife still in hand.

Not wanting to piss him off even more she didn't hesitate to do what she was told. His eyes had even stayed black the whole time.

Keeping his eyes on her Dean growled at the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. She let out a sigh of relief once his attention wasn't directed towards her, but to the person he was currently on the phone with.

"What do you want Crowley?" Dean barked into the phone.

"Is it done?"

"I'm working on it."

"It's been 3 days Dean. You never drag out a kill. Get it done or I'll send someone who will."

"The job will get done but on my terms. Send anyone else and they'll be dead too!" Dean yelled the last sentence before hanging up not giving Crowley the chance to answer. If Crowley knew what was good for him, he would take what Dean said seriously.

"Who was that?" Katarina asked in a hushed tone like she was afraid he'd yell at her for asking.

At this point, the demon didn't care she heard the whole conversation "Don't worry about it."

---

"We still haven't found her sheriff." One of the deputies said with a tone of sympathy.

He had to be careful to not give it away that he's looking for Katarina and because of that, only two of his deputies know she's missing. The only evidence they found was her footprints in the snow that led to her mother's grave. But Dean was careful to make sure nothing else of hers was left behind the night he took her.

"Keep looking. I want my daughter found safe and alive." Sheriff Morgan sighed. So nobody grew suspicious he had to hide the fact he knows who has his Omega of a daughter. Even worse, he's hiding that those three Omega's that were missing are now dead. All for the sake of an attempt to keep his daughter safe

"I'll find you. I promise." He muttered while gazing at the picture of his daughter on his desk.

---

Dean returned to the cabin carrying a few logs of wood before he sat down on the stool to start a fire in the fireplace. Not one word did Dean had said to her since the situation that took place earlier that evening. Every time she heard the swing of Dean's ax hit the wood, she flinched thinking if he would kill her that way.

Katarina's shivering soon calmed down once the heat of the fire finally warmed the cabin. She buried her face against the blanket as she hugged it closer to her body and made a sound she's never made before. Realizing she just purred she sniffed the blanket. That's when it hit her. The blanket, the entire bed smells like Dean. She hoped with everything in her the Alpha across the room didn't hear the noise she once again just made. To her, that would be embarrassing given she's never had an Alpha touch her let alone have a heat yet. She only hoped having an Alpha this close to her wouldn't trigger her heat.

Relaxing enough she closed her eyes, finally falling asleep only minutes after.

---

It was hours later when she awoke covered in a sheet of her own sweat. She looked at the fireplace which was still burning. She removed her jacket from her shoulders and three the blanket off, thinking maybe she got too hot from the heat of the fire and all the other layers on her. But then she smelled it, her own scent thick in the air of the cabin. Then she felt it, a cramp in her lower belly striking through her. Oh, no. So much for hoping.

"You're in heat."

She jumped as Dean pulled her closer to him. Gripping her jaw he holds her head in place as he, with golden eyes ran his nose along the side of her neck and let his hands roam either side of her body "Y-you knew this would h-happen." She went stiff as he pressed his hips forward against her ass and could feel the hardness of his cock straining against the demon fabric of his jeans.

He chuckled at her words while bringing his hand to the front of her jeans and popped the button and sliding two fingers in the waistband. The arousal pooled in her panties as soon as his fingers came in contact against hot, slick flesh. She bit her lip to keep any type of noise in from the fingers on her virgin cunt.

"Oh, you're damn right I did." His eyes flashed golden "And from the way you smell right now, I'm guessing you've never had an Alpha touch you or even have a knot in you. Now, that's gonna change."

The only response he got was a whimper of pain as another cramp shot through her. She knew this day would come, she knew what to expect, but she didn't expect was her heat to come like this. Triggered by a demon who happens to be an Alpha.

"Gonna make you feel good, Omega."

Dean flipped her on her back and ripped her shirt over her head before claiming her mouth with his. He took the liberty of palming her breasts through her plain white bra before taking it in his hands and ripping it from her chest. The demon was quick to capture her wrists in his hands to prevent her from covering herself.

While squeezing her breasts in his hands his eyes divert to her chest "Fuck, these tits are perfect, 'mega." His thumbs grazed across her aching nipples "Fit just right in my hands."

The Omega closed her eyes as he then smoothed a hand down her stomach to drag her jeans and panties down her legs. Holding her breath he pried her legs open while laying down on his stomach and slinging her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes snapped open once she felt the stubble on his face drag along her inner thigh and his breath ghosting over her mound and his tongue swiping up her slit.

"What are you doing?" She tried to close her legs around Dean's head.

"What's it look like 'mega?" He chuckled against her "Your cunt is just begging to be touched."

The shade of red that washed over her face was just a confirmation of his statement. It didn't matter how much Katarina wanted to deny it, her pussy was drenched from her arousal.

The tip of his nose nudged her clit as his tongue delved between her folds and brushed against her opening. Shame washed over her when her hips involuntarily bucked against his face and whimpered in pleasure. Not once had she ever thought about having an Alpha's face between her legs.

Dean was moaning against her sex and her face turned a deeper shade of red when he pulled back and moaned things like "your taste is intoxicating". But he always leaned back in and continued his actions.

Two rough fingers circled her tight entrance. It was almost like Dean could read her thoughts about protesting as he snaked a hand up her body and wrapped it around her throat as a warning "Come on 'mega" He licked her clit once "Open up for me." Twice.

Finally, he slid his two thick digits inside her. In an attempt to open her up more, he scissored them inside her, earning a gasp from the slight stretch.

"Oh, fuck." The Omega whimpered as Dean curled his fingers at the spot deep inside her.

"Yeah, there we go." He mumbled before continuing his assault on her clit.

It wasn't long until she became a writhing, screaming mess, her orgasm flooding through her body.

"Dean, please stop." She whimpered as he continued to finger and lick her through her orgasm.

Pulling away from her, Dean sat up on his knees and flipped her over on her stomach "Face down, ass up. Now."

It was out of pure Omega instinct that she did what she was told and she hated herself for it because she knew what was coming. She tried to crawl away as Dean removed his clothes but he only grabbed her hips and pulled her back into place before positioning himself behind her.

Before she could turn her head to look behind her he shoved her face to the mattress "It's better you don't see this 'mega." He rutted between her folds and spread her slick over his cock.

She fisted the blanket with tears in her eyes as the head of his cock pushes against her quivering heat and that's when he felt the resistance. She didn't say a word. The only sound she made was a whimper of horror as he struggled to push the first inch inside her and beads of sweat started to form on his skin.

"Please wait! Dean, I can't. It hurts!" She wailed at him when he rutted in another two inches. She felt like he was splitting her in two.

He was starting to lose patience with her "Oh, I know it does. But you're gonna take my cock like the submissive Omega you are. You wanna know what happens if you don't?" He snarled at her.

"You'll hurt me?"

"That is right. Now shut the hell up and take it like a good little Omega!"

The hands that gripped her hips tightened to keep her still as he attempted to again push forward but stilled his movement when her walls gripped him. At that moment his patience might as well just disintegrated. Snarling he slammed himself completely inside her. The glass-shattering scream from Katarina's throat echoed throughout the cabin but was soon silenced the moment Dean leaned over and clamped a hand over her mouth.

By testing her he rocked his hips forward, eliciting a whimper of pain from the girl. Slightly he pulled out only to slam himself back into her. She sobbed into the blanket with each drag of his cock against her. At first, he went slow, but with each time she involuntarily clenched his thrusts became faster and harder.

She wondered how bad it would've gone if she had fought him on it. But then again, she didn't have to wonder. Even though he hurt her anyway, it could've been worse.

"Gonna knot you little 'mega." His voice was suddenly deeper.

The words she just heard didn't fully register until she felt it at the base of him and her eyes grew wide. His knot was starting to swell. As he still pounded into her he dragged her up against his chest. He pulled back only to snap his hips forward and with one hard thrust, he forced his knot inside her. As thick ropes of cum filled her womb he licked a line from her shoulder to her neck before sinking his teeth deep in her neck.

"My Omega." Was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes.

[spencers-dria]

Trauma

Someone To Stay Ch. 9

Spencer x fem reader

It's been several weeks since Y/N and I started our weekly movie nights. After starting Harry Potter we decided that we would keep watching our way through the series until we finished them. Last week I was out of town on all of her days off, but tonight we get to watch our favorite together, Prisoner of Azkaban. Seeing as we both love Halloween, this doesn't come as much of a surprise.

Last time I had asked to borrow her Harry Potter cookbook. As a surprise I've been cooking pumpkin pasties. I normally don't do much cooking, but this was well worth it. Movie night has become incredibly casual, so i slip into some purple pajama pants and a black t shirt before driving to her apartment. We decided movie nights would all take place at her apartment, seeing as she had the nice TV with a decent sound system. I had previously spent almost all my time reading, so all I had was my mom's old TV tucked away in the corner, only used when I felt the need to binge Dr. Who.

It's not long before i'm knocking at her door, warm snacks ready to go. She opens the door and looks down with a huge grin.

"Are those what I think they are?"

I nod, glad to see she's excited about them. After a moment I notice a pleasant smell wafting from the kitchen.

"You made something too?" I peek my head into the kitchen hoping to discover the source of the scent.

Y/N pulls out two mugs topped with foam, smiling like a giddy little kid. We both take a sip, and I feel the warmth filling me up as I take in the drink that tastes like Autumn in a cup. I've never had butter-beer before, but this is perfect. I look up to see whipped cream coating Y/N's upper lip, and based on the laugh she's holding back, I would guess I am sporting the same foam mustache. We both bust out in laughter. Something about spending time with Y/N makes me feel like a kid again. I know I can share my knowledge with her and she actually encourages me to do it quite often. But she also makes me feel like I can be goofy and silly and just have fun. I had almost forgotten what that feels like.

After we each curl up on our end of the couch with blankets and pillows, I can't help but realize how happy I have been having her as a friend in my life. Something about this realization pulls my mind in the opposite direction, and I suddenly find myself remembering why happiness feels like such a long forgotten stranger...Maeve. The name had not crossed my thoughts in weeks. This realization leaves me with a guilt that sits like a pit in my stomach. Before I know it, I am no longer focused on my favorite Harry Potter movie, but am spiraling into a dark hole once again. I lose myself so far into my thoughts that I almost don't notice that Y/N has stopped the movie and is staring straight at me.

I turn to her. "What is it?"

Y/N furrows her brow, a deep look of concern filling her eyes.

"Spencer, you're crying."

"I am?" I reach up to feel the wet streaks left behind on my cheek. I hadn't even realized. Now not only have I been crying in front of Y/N, but she knows something is wrong. Knowing her, she won't let this go so easily. I also doubt she'll buy any lie I try to feed her. She may not be a profiler, but she sure knows when someone she cares about isn't being genuine with her.

Luckily, she must also know me better than I realize. She doesn't push me too hard for information. She scoots over to my side of the couch before laying a hand on my shoulder. I keep my eyes glued to my lap, avoiding eye contact as best I can. I'm afraid that if I look into her eyes now, I'll completely fall apart. Something about telling your friends about your trauma makes it very real, and I don't want to relive that day, not again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure..." I answer honestly.

Instead of pushing me, she moves her hand to rub my back as we sit there in silence. Something about the kindness of this gesture finally breaks me. I let my head fall into my hands as tears start streaming down my face, and I don't even bother trying to stop them. I can't hold this back anymore, not from someone who's become like a best friend to me.

We sit there just like that for several minutes, Y/N silently rubbing my back, me crying like a big baby. Part of me feels embarrassed, breaking down like this, but the other part is too tired from holding all of this back to even care anymore.

Finally, I think my body has run out of tears when I hear Y/N say "What can I do? What do you need?" It's so quiet I almost miss it.

"Her name was Maeve." I am surprised to hear the words leave my mouth. I glance over to Y/N to gauge her reaction, but she's only sitting there, listening patiently.

"I started getting these headaches. They became so crippling that they started affecting my work. It scared me because...well my mom is schizophrenic. I guess I have always been a little paranoid about showing symptoms. The doctors ran tests, labs, scans...everything they could think of. As a last resort I reached out to this geneticist. After a bit of correspondence, it wasn't difficult to see that she was brilliant. She seemed to enjoy keeping in touch, so we would write one another letters. We eventually started calling one another. But...she had a stalker. She didn't know who it was or what they wanted, but she was scared. That's why we wrote letters. And I only ever called her from telephone booths, never the same one twice. I ended up sharing a large part of my life with her... One time before hanging up the phone she even said "love you" like it was the most normal thing in the world. I never said it back, but even if what I felt was love I never got the chance to say it to her. Her stalker was a former grad student, and she got to Maeve before I could."

I stop and take in a deep breath, swallowing the growing lump in my throat before continuing.

" She shot herself in front of me, killing Maeve along with her. It was the first time I had ever seen her in person too. It happened a couple months ago. Every time I think i've moved on it feels like the pain starts all over again. I sometimes feel guilty for even trying to move on, for ever being happy."

Y/N doesn't say a word as she lets me speak. She just nods, taking in every word. After a couple minutes of silence, she lets out a large breath before finally opening her mouth to speak.

"Spencer, I can't pretend to even come close to understanding what you are going through. I wish I had the answers. I wish I could tell you when the pain will go away, but the truth is it will probably never fully leave you. Trauma has a way of sticking with us. We learn how to process it and cope with it more efficiently, but it's never truly gone. Now I can't pretend to know what Maeve would have wanted for you, but as your friend who's with you now I want to tell you its okay to be happy. Its also okay to not be okay sometimes. No one has it together all of the time. It's ok to talk about it, to cry about it, and there's no right or wrong time. Trauma has a way of sneaking up on us, triggering us when we least expect it. And whatever you need to be ok, whatever you need to do in order to deal with this, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You can always call me if you need to talk or come over. Even if you just need a distraction from it, if you find yourself slipping into a dark place, you can call me, and we will talk about literally anything else or go find somewhere to grab dessert or watch a movie. If you need someone to just sit with you, I'll be there. What I'm trying to say is whenever you're ready, just tell me what you need and I'll be there for you."

I feel like I could cry again, but luckily I don't. Instead, I turn on the couch to face Y/N and just pull her in for a hug, resting my head on her shoulder. This alone is all I need to at least be okay, even if just for tonight. As someone who lives alone, my only real family living across the US, no one ever really knows just how much I crave touch. It's not exactly like I can just approach JJ, Garcia, or Morgan and say "Hey I could really use a hug today." It's a love language for me, but I go weeks without touching a single person. It wears me down sometimes. Sitting here, hugging Y/N, is the most comforted I have felt in a really long time.

I want to tell her the other reason I'm struggling. About the cravings I have to battle when things are already emotionally challenging. I decide I'm not ready to share that quite yet. It's not that i don't trust her, but if it's going to affect the way she sees me, I want to put that off as long as possible.

I also take a minute to go over the words she's said to me. I can't help but notice her tone, her body language, the look on her face. She may be great at comforting people, especially since it's part of her job, but those were the words of someone who knew. She spoke from a place of fully understanding trauma, which tells me one thing: She has had trauma of her own. I make a mental note to bring it up later. I don't want to push her, but I want to make sure she knows she has the same support from me incase she ever needs to talk.

We sit there for a few more minutes, her arms wrapped around me. My breathing eventually slows down as I try to get my sniffles under control. I feel my head start to pound from how hard I have been crying. I sit back to rub my hands into my temples. Y/N stands up and makes her way into the kitchen, returning a couple minutes later with a cold water bottle, a box of tissues, and some aspirin.

She starts to walk out of the room before turning to me.

"I think I've got something that might help you feel a little better. It can't heal with heartbreak, but maybe it can help you to relax and take your mind off everything, if even for a little while."

"Y/N, you take care of people all day at work you don't have to..,"

"Hey!" She cuts me off before I can finish. "Why do you think I became a nurse huh? I enjoy taking care of people. And if I can help, even just a little, I won't feel so completely useless in this situation."

"Y/N, you've already helped. Just listening, being here with me. But I guess its no use arguing with you, you're too stubborn." A small breathy laugh leaves my nose and I glance up to see a small smile before she steps out of the room.

She returns a few minutes later and doesn't say a word. Instead she grabs both my hands and pulls me off the couch, leading me into the guest bathroom.

A take a look around at everything she had gotten ready.

"A bubble bath?" I shoot her a look of uncertainty.

"Just trust me okay." She rolls her eyes playfully. "I'll be in the living room. Just shout if you need me okay?"

I decide to just go with it. She leaves, shutting the door behind her and flipping of the lights. The room is suddenly glowing in light from candles scattered all around the bathroom. After slipping into the bath, I tense up at how hot the water is before it finally relaxes all my muscles. Breathing in, I notice the smell of eucalyptus and lavender filling the air. There is also a bluetooth speaker in the corner, softly playing zen spa music with the trickle of a rain in the background.

I have to admit, this is the most relaxed I have felt in...well I can't remember ever feeling this relaxed. Baths always seemed a bit girly, but this was incredibly therapeutic. I may have to try this again after my next difficult case.

When I finally decide to get out, I realize I'll have to change back into the same clothes. I quickly realize Y/N had also laid out a  star wars t shirt and black sweatpants for me. She thought of everything. With her being on the taller side and enjoying baggy clothes, they actually fit me fairly well.

When I finally step back into the living room she looks up at me and grins.

"Looking good Dr. Reid!"

She never calls me that, and for some reason it makes me blush just slightly. She pats the spot next to her on the couch, signaling for me to come over.

"Well, how do you feel?"

"Umm I wasn't sure about the whole bath thing but... I feel fantastic actually! How did you know that would help?"

"When you do what I do, you have to find multiple ways to unwind" she laughs.

I glance down at the shirt I'm wearing.

"So Star Wars huh?"

Y/N smirks "Are you really that surprised?"

I answer with a laugh "No I suppose not."

"Well I hope you like them too, because that's what I had lined up when it was my turn to pick for movie night!"

I can't help but hide a giant grin. I was happy to hear she wanted to continue our movie nights. Between all the Harry Potter movies and Star Wars movies combined, it seemed like we'd be spending a lot more time together.

"Is it okay if we finish the movie?" I am hoping I didn't completely ruin the night with my breakdown.

"I thought you'd never ask" she smiles before turning to the TV and resuming the movie.

As I watch the characters making their way into the shrieking shack, I feel my eyes grow heavy. I guess I had gotten a little too relaxed, as I am now struggling to stay awake through the rest of the movie.

When I open my eyes I notice the room is no longer glowing from the light of the TV but from the daylight streaming in through the windows. I realize i'm stretched across Y'N's couch, under one of her many fuzzy blankets. I sit up and look around, noticing Y/N is no longer there. After checking her kitchen and bedroom, I start to worry. Before I start to call her on the phone, I notice movement outside the window. I make my way onto the patio balcony to see her sitting on her bench with a book in her hands. At the sound of the door, she looks up and meets my gaze, smiling as she closes her book.

"Good morning sunshine" she says laughing just a bit.

"What happened?" I ask, joining her on the bench outside, running my hands through my hair as I attempt to fully wake up.

"Well, after awhile I noticed you fell asleep. I really thought it would be best to just let you get your rest."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." I start before she cuts me off.

"Its no problem! Not last night and not any other time. You are always welcome here." She gives me a warm, genuine smile. I know this is a sincere offer, one I'm sure I will take her up on again.

[cyn-00]

Omg I'm so happy that you decided to take prompts !! I'm undecided between number 19 and 47 (from Fluff), you choose! No pressure tho 💖

Thank u for the request anon 💘 and HOW CAN U ASK ME TO DECIDE omg 19) "You know, I think my mother/father/parents would be proud if I brought you/her/him/them home." means super fluff, whereas 47) "At least let me clean it." so I'm sensing whump?? I'M CONFLICTED AAAA ok I'm gonna do 47 for now though I don't exclude the possibility of doing 19 too later!

Prompt list (requests currently closed)

Read it on AO3

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

The night sky was pitch black, the only sources of light red and blue flashes of sirens coming from ambulances, police cars and federal SUVs; psychedelic flares of color only making it more difficult for Reid's tired and hyper-attentive eyes to focus on what was important for the moment being.

Derek. Where is Derek.

A dark figure ran out of the house a few minutes after a series of gunshots were heard from outside. Spencer didn't need to ask any of his teammates nearby to know the figure was the person he'd been worrying about for the past 30 minutes.

He jogged in the man's direction and called out his name one, two, three times, though Morgan was too busy hunching on himself to cough his lungs out to answer or to even hear.

"Morgan? Derek? Are you alright??"

Morgan- Derek's coughing quieted enough to allow the man to nod at the question.

"Y-yeah. Fine. 'm fine." he answered with rough and strained voice as he straightened up again.

The second he did that, Spencer's previous concern exploded again full-force in his veins.

"Wh- what the hell happened to you??" he asked, taking in the deep, blood-dripping cut that carved his boyfriend's browbone and the bright red ecchymosis encircling his neck like a collar.

Morgan sighed, shaking his head to dismiss the man's worry. "Guy went crazy on me. Punched me and tried to choke me before I could-" his phrase was cut off by a harsh fit of cough. "b- before I could react. Sheriff had to shoot him."

The man standing in front of him inched closer at each pronounced syllable, incapable of tearing his gaze away from his bruised throat.

Derek watched him as he brushed his finger pads on the flushed and burning skin of his neck, light as a feather, as though feeling compelled to test the realness of his injury.

"Spencer... I'm fine. Seriously."

His sweet and reassuring voice didn't in the leastest deter the younger man's eyes from darting up to level with Derek's and crinkling in a scowl, all in a matter of a fraction of second.

"Why did you do that." Reid's tone didn't raise in pitch at the end - somehow that was anything but a question.

Morgan returned the frown. "What're you on about? Should I just have let the sheriff get in ALONE??"

"You should have convinced her to NOT get in in the first place, and wait for us."

Derek stared in his boyfriend's eyes for a few seconds; a glimmer of upset surfacing on his hazel irises.

He exhaled deeply and averted his gaze, brushing past by him to stride toward the other side of the street and join the rest of their team.

"Morgan!" Spencer's voice came from behind, his frantic steps closing the distance between the two to follow him.

"Don't go all Hotch on me. I don't need that right now." he scolded while his twitchy hands worked his vest off.

"I'm not 'going Hotch' on you-"

"Then don't go 'boyfriend' on me, alright?? Just drop it, Reid!" Morgan snapped, stopping abruptly in his tracks halfway to the other side of the road.

He turned around to face the man chasing him; a thump in his chest at the look on his face.

"I'm-" Spencer gulped. "I'm just saying. You should've waited." he reiterated, dropping his gaze and the volume of his voice simultaneously.

Silence.

"I d- don't know how you expect me to not...t-to not 'go boyfriend' on you." Reid stuttered sheepishly; his words almost swallowed by the background noises as he began unstrapping his own vest too.

Derek's shoulders collapsed with the weight of guilt, a second later his hands were cupping the other's face urgently.

"Spencer," he called in a whisper; the genius' chin tilting up instinctively at the use of his first name. "Sweetheart, I'm fine. And I'm sorry I scared you."

Spencer hesitated a second and then nodded vigorously, pitching forward to lay a peck on his boyfriend's Cupid's bow before colliding into him in a rib-smashing hug.

"It's not that I don't trust you." he claimed against the older man's neck.

"I know."

Reid pulled out of the embrace to redirect his attention to the man's injuries.

"But that cut is seriously worrying me, please just- get that checked out?"

Morgan didn't have the time to do anything more than sigh.

"...for me?" the genius added biting back a sly grin.

"C'mon, the medics are all busy with the kids that were inside the house." Morgan insisted, albeit with a grin of his own.

Reid's eyes detached from the man's face to quickly trace his surroundings: all the medics, indeed, had their hands full to say the very least.

"Alright...at least let me clean it?"

Derek's smile widened. "Deal." he agreed, before turning around to head toward the closest ambulance along with Spencer.

"And, Derek?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Don't call me Hotch ever again." The genius reprimanded jokingly.

The other chuckled. " 'kay. You got yourself two deals in one night."

Reid shrugged. "Perks of being your boyfriend, I guess."

Morgan chuckled at that, too.