Last, Last Time
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)
WC: ~7.3k
TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.
a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!
Spencer Masterlist
“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”
“Y/n…”
“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”
The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.
“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”
“Wait for the potential of us?”
Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.
“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”
“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”
“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”
“I’m sorry.”
You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.”
Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.
“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....”
“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”
The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.
“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.
The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough.
“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”
Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.
Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”
About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.
He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.
And it stuck.
Now? It stung.
All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.
“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.
“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...”
Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.
You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.
You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.
Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it.
Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.
You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—
Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.
Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job.
Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—
The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.
This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years.
You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.
Emily Prentiss
______________________________________________________________
The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”
Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”
The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .
Spencer just stared at the photo.
Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”
He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”
“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours. I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”
______________________________________________________________
Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call.
You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“
“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”
Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.
“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”
“What?”
“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.”
“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?”
Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now.
You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life.
Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.
You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely.
It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.
You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night.
As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car.
Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face.
Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”
“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.
“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.
“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.
“Let’s head inside?”
The three of you moved inside.
Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like.
As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.
“What do you know about Cat Adams?”
That bitch.
______________________________________________________________
“I would like to go on a date. With you.”
Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”
“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”
Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”
Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.
“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”
Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”
“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”
Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”
His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”
And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.
______________________________________________________________
Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”
They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.
“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.”
Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips.
Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too.
She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”
“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.
Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.
“What is the last thing you know about her?”
You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.
They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.
“What? What happened?”
“Y/n..”
“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?”
Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—
“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”
“We didn’t think you’d–”
“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.”
Both of them went silent.
“So is he out?”
They nodded slowly, silently.
“How long was he in there.”
Nothing.
“I asked. How. Long.”
Luke spoke up. “Three months.”
“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.
Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.
“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?”
“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”
Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.
They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.
You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.
Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.
“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.
At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.
______________________________________________________________
“Victimology is off.”
“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.
“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”
Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”
Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”
“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.
Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.
While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”
“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.
Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.
Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”
“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.”
______________________________________________________________
After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it.
Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.
There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest.
Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.
Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.
“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”
You nodded. “How does this affect me?”
“She took your father and sister.”
Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”
His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear.
“So why is she here?” You whispered back.
“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.”
You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”
Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation.
The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.
It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.
The pity from Rossi's look was palpable.
“Don’t even start.”
He shrugged and stayed silent.
Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”
You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone.
Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch.
Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.
______________________________________________________________
“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”
Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “
“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”
“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”
Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”
“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”
“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.
“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.
Emily sighed in agreement.
Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”
Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”
Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.
JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.
Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”
“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”
Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”
Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”
______________________________________________________________
Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.
And there he was.
This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.
And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams.
The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.
After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.
It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.
“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.
You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.
His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.
You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…
“What are you doing here?”
You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.
Remember what Prentiss had said to you.
“You know why I’m here.”
Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.
Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.
Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off.
She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”
You shook your head. “No.”
Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.
“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”
Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”
“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”
Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”
You scoffed. “What does that mean?”
Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.
“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.
Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”
You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense.
Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.
Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before.
“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”
Spencer spoke up. “With you?”
“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”
“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.
“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”
Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”
Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”
Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.”
You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.
Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”
Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”
“No.” you just looked down at your hands.
“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.”
“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”
“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”
Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”
“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.
“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.
“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.
Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”
Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?”
Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”
Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine.
Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”
“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”
Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”
“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”
“That doesn't mean I-I would…”
Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”
Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.
After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”
It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where.
Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”
Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”
You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”
Spencer just looked over at you.
Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”
Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”
And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.
Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”
You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”
“Stop.”
Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”
You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”
That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”
Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”
“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”
You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”
“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”
You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here. Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”
She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”
“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.
Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”
“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”
“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”
You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”
Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”
“Last year.”
“Was he good in bed?”
Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”
Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”
“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”
There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.
Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”
You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”
“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”
“ I planned and I... I waited.”
Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “
“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”
Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."
You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.
Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”
Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”
“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.”
Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”
Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .
“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”
The phone in your hand buzzed.
“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”
Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”
She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.
Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”
______________________________________________________________
The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.
“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”
Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”
“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”
Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”
“Would you have written me back?”
When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.
“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.
______________________________________________________________
The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”
Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.
“Spencer, are you okay?”
Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.
He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.
You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound.
Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.
“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”
She nodded at him and walked away.
Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.
“I should explain all of this.”
Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”
You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”
He just nodded, staring at you really.
You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back.
“Thank you for saving my sister and father.”
Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find.
Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”
Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face.
He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger.
“They gave me an ear piece and everything.”
Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”
You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”
Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”
“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.
You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…”
She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.
He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.”
Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better.
You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago.
You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him.
As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you.
Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.
It was Spencer who spoke first.
“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”
You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did.
“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered.
The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different.
It’s not the way it used to be.
“I need to go Spencer.”
He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek.
You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure.
“Y/n…”
You took another step away from him and shook your head.
“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.”
You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.”
“Y/n please.”
“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.”
Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek.
Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out.
You didn’t.
His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.
But it had to end.
You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you.
Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car.
Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces.
You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you.
The doors shut.
You were all alone in this hollow parking garage.
Your heart was aching, burning.
But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time.
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Anything (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)
A/N: Something is seriously wrong with me...I cannot stop writing for this man. Started this one last night after hearing him say "princess" in "The Wolverine" (2013). This is another nightmare fic, but I promise it's different! Heavily inspired by "anything" by Adrianne Lenker. Hope you guys enjoy!
Summary: Your summer affair with Logan is, in fact, not just a summer affair.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT!! MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), (some?)fingering, cockwarming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nightmares, fem!reader/afab!reader, canon-typical violence, mutant!reader (unspecified abilities), feelings, angst, cursing, probably grammatical errors, I think that's it!
Word Count: 3,213 short for me
It started one summer night—under the stars. You had slipped out the window of your room in the mansion. You were sitting with your legs crossed, perched precariously on the old, shingled roof. You never got much sleep—you simply couldn’t—even though you knew the mansion was safe. Staying awake remained a solace, a comfort. It meant fewer nightmares; it meant you couldn’t be haunted by the hurt of your past.
Staring up at the stars beat staring up at your ceiling, and so you had made it a habit to crawl out of your window and sit on the roof.
Until that one summer night, when Logan found you out there.
He shoved open his window and stuck his head outside. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” You smiled, turning your head to face him. You shrugged your shoulders, giggling at the concern on his face. He mocked you, shrugging his own shoulders in imitation.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile and the way he made you laugh. You and Logan had been growing closer, spending more time together. He was looking out for you—constantly and protectively. It made you feel good knowing that someone cared so deeply.
“Why don’t you come over here?” You called over to him, patting the spot next to you. He shook his head and ducked back inside. You quickly assumed he didn’t feel like being with you, your heart sinking down into your stomach. You wanted him to come out, to sit with you. Maybe you could’ve—
But then there he was, pushing the window as far open as it could possibly go, struggling to climb out. It wasn’t too much of a scuffle over to you, your rooms being right next to one another, but he made a big deal of the trek nonetheless. He huffed for dramatic effect as he sat down next to you.
“This is so incredibly dangerous,” he had said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
You gasped. “Logan Howlett cares about safety?” You clasped your hand over your mouth for flare. “My safety?”
He smiled, but there was something serious in his face. “I do, actually.” You tried not to notice as he inched closer to you, your shoulders brushing together. “What are you doing out here, princess?” He asked again.
You smirked at the familiar nickname. “I don’t really like sleeping,” you muttered.
Logan nodded. He understood better than anyone else. “I know…” He trailed off, looking up at the sky. “But why sit out here?”
“It’s quiet,” you whispered. “And it’s beautiful. Better than being in there, just sitting in bed.”
He nodded again. “It is beautiful.” You turned your head back to Logan as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. He was looking at you. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Did you have a dream tonight?”
You shook your head from side to side. “Didn’t give myself the chance to yet, and I don’t plan on doing so.” You sighed, looking down at your legs, still crossed like a pretzel in front of you. “Wish we didn’t have to deal with this, you know?”
Logan slowly brought his arm around your shoulder, as if he was waiting for you to shove him away. He had touched you before, but not quite like this. It was always in passing—always short and fleeting. But this? This was intentional. You leaned into his touch and let your head fall to his shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with it alone,” he offered, his lips faintly brushing at your temple.
You tilted up to look at him, his face inches away from yours. He pulled you in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You’re not alone,” he repeated.
And then his lips were on yours. You kissed on the roof. You let him tug you into his window, into his bed. He tasted you that night. You spread your legs and let him inside. And then you slept. You slept without waking up in a cold sweat. You slept without reliving your past. And for the first time in a long time, so did he.
And now it's become a habit. He opens his window for you, and you climb across the roof and inside. Every night. You haven’t slept alone since the beginning of the summer, and it’s August now. There’s no label on whatever it is you two are. But you know it’s serious—the way he asks every night if you can stay, even though he knows you’ve already made up your mind and that you aren’t going anywhere.
But tonight is different. Logan was sent on a day trip with some of the students, while you were tasked with staying at the school to run through training exercises. It’s the end of the day now—10 PM. You’re exhausted as you let your back crash down on the mattress.
Thanks to Logan, your body has become accustomed to sleeping. You can feel it calling you, feel your tiredness creeping in at the corner of your eyes. You try to fight the feeling, but it’s no use. Your eyes flutter open and closed, resisting until you can’t anymore, and you fall asleep.
There’s a piercing ringing in your ears. Your chest is heaving violently. You’re strapped down to a chair, a needle inches away from your forearm. Maybe it’s Stryker. Maybe it’s some other mutant hunter or government agent ready to do their worst. You thrash around in the chair, yanking at the restraints to no avail.
You choke out a sob, throwing your head back in agony. Logan is all you can think about. What if he’s in danger? What if you never see him again? What if this is it?
Just as the needle breaks skin, the piercing ringing starts up again, and everything goes black.
You force yourself to sit up, cold sweat drenching every inch and curve of your body. You look over to the clock on your nightstand: 12:37 AM. You had only been asleep for two hours. You shut your eyes, letting your head bump into the headboard behind you. You take deep, slow breaths, trying to lower your heart rate, silently reminding yourself that it was all just a dream.
You’re not exactly sure what brought the nightmare on, but you know you aren’t going back to sleep. You crawl out of bed and into the darkness of your room, carefully walking to your window and shoving it as far open as it can possibly go. You climb out and sit on the still-hot roof to look at the stars.
The twinkling balls of heat shine above you. It hits you then that even stars must die. They have all that energy, all that beauty, and then they burn out. You swallow at the thought, tears burning behind your sinuses.
You don’t want to look over at Logan’s room—don’t want to see the window closed. The trip was to some aquarium down the shore in Jersey. You know he’s likely not home yet, and for the first time since all of this started, you’re worried about bothering him. You don’t want to force him to deal with your—
And then you finally see it. His window is open, the curtains billowing around inside. You let out a tight breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders going slack at the thought of crawling into his bed.
You scale the roof carefully, bending down as you climb inside his room. You get tangled up in the curtains, and you shove them aside to reveal Logan in his bed, eyes shut. You swallow harshly at the sight—his chest bare and his hair a mess. Sometimes you’ll stay up and watch him sleep, just to see this, just to know what he looks like when it's late and no one else is around.
But then he’s twitching. He grunts, his chest heaving rapidly. You sprint across the room to his side, practically tripping over nothing in the rush of it all. He’s fisting the sheets, mumbling nonsense, violently turning left and right. You can see the pain in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his muscles flex. Your heart drops deep into the pit of your stomach.
“Logan,” you call out, bringing a hand to his shoulder. You know he’s sensitive—know he can bring the claws out at any second—so you take care with your movements. “Logan,” you call again, louder this time. You grip his shoulder harder, shaking him, trying to force him out of the nightmare.
You think you hear your name slip from his lips. “I’m right here,” you soothe, bringing your other hand to his abdomen, rubbing softly as you continue to shake his shoulder. He’s a sweating mess, his body cold and hot at the same time. You want to take his pain away, to make all of this better. “Come on,” you beg. “Wake up.”
And then he’s sitting up, his eyes open wide. You step back, giving him the space he needs as he comes to. His claws shoot out, ready to strike. He turns his head, his eyes frantically searching the room until he finds you.
He quickly retracts his claws, and you watch as his shoulders relax. His chest still rises and falls rapidly with every breath he takes.
“Logan,” you whisper, stepping closer to him again. “Are you—”
He cuts you off, pawing at you, grabbing your sides, and pulling you into his bed. He’s on top of you in an instant, caging you in, his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly.
“Can you stay?” It’s a ritual, the way he asks. He knows your answer—always does. But he asks anyway. You know he wants to hear it from your lips, wants to know that you want this, too.
Your heart clenches in your chest. “Yes,” you sigh as one of his hands comes to rest underneath your shirt, climbing slowly up your stomach. “But Logan—”
He swallows your protests with a kiss, and you moan into his mouth. It’s hurried, rushed, like he’ll die if he can't have you right away. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Need you now. Talk after,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again before you can say a word.
You understood—you needed him too. Needed to feel him inside you, under your skin, everywhere.
His hand slinks up to your bare chest; you had forgotten you weren’t wearing a bra, just one of Logan’s old t-shirts and your panties. His touch is rough; needy. He squeezes your tits, his fingertips brushing your nipples, drawing tight circles. You moan his name, already squirming underneath him.
Logan’s erection grinds against your core. He’s just wearing his boxers—nothing else—but it’s still too much. You need him bare before you, deep inside you. You lift your hips up to meet his, your arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer.
He takes the hint, his hand gliding back down your body to the hem of your panties. He reaches down farther, teasing your folds through the fabric. “Fuck, so fucking wet already,” he mumbles, slipping your panties to the side so that he can feel you. You shudder under his touch, his fingers spreading your slickness up to your clit. He strokes teasingly, the ache between your thighs growing with every flick and circle.
It feels like heaven, but you need him closer. “Logan,” you whimper, fisting the sheets underneath you. “Want you, please.” It’s a desperate prayer and not just a request.
Logan suddenly pulls his hand away and you whine at the loss of contact. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes reassuringly, sitting up and pushing his boxers down. You’ll never get tired of the sight of his cock springing free against his stomach. His hands are back on your hips in an instant, squeezing lightly before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and yanking them down.
He's back on top of you, lowering down onto one forearm as his other hand pulls your shirt above your tits. “Wanna see you, pretty girl,” he groans, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before his forehead meets yours.
His hand comes down to the base of his cock, guiding his tip to your entrance, to where you need him most. His chest heaves in time with yours, your nipples brushing against him. He stays there for a moment, not moving. His eyes search your face, as if to confirm you’re real—that you’re truly here with him. You can see the need in his eyes. It’s not lust anymore—not just about sex. It’s never been about that.
It has always meant more.
Logan suddenly thrusts into you, bottoming out down to the hilt, stretching you open. You can feel him throb inside you. He groans at your ear. “So goddamn tight.” He doesn’t pull back out, his hips still, his cock buried deep inside you. You need him to move, need to feel his cock rub against your walls. You try to grind down on him, but he doesn’t let you. His hand latches onto your hip, keeping you in place.
“Lo,” you whine.
“Love when you call me that, sweetheart,” he growls, his hips still stuck in place. “Just wanna feel you like this for a minute. Don’t move.”
It’s all too much. You need more, need him to fuck into you. Logan frees his hold on your hip, his hand trailing down between your bodies. He finds your clit, drawing achingly slow circles there. It’s nowhere near enough, but the temporary relief feels so good.
“Always want you this close,” he murmurs, his hips finally starting to move, slowly but surely. You arch your back at the feeling. “Feels so good, so fucking good.”
He’s taking his time, committing how you feel around his cock to his memory. He’s filling you up, taking in every inch you have to give him. You’re still adjusting to his size, his cock working you open with every thrust. His fingertips swirl around your clit, adding more pressure to the sensitive bud. You’re already close, already putty in his hands.
Your walls flutter around him, drawing him in, deeper and deeper.
“Should’ve just brought you in here when I got home,” he husks between starving kisses. “Shouldn’t have waited.”
You wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m here now,” you coo, your nails scratching at his back as he pounds into you, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours.
“D-don’t know what I’d do without you,” he stutters, his voice suddenly shaky. He’s still fucking into you relentlessly, pumping in and out. “F-fucking need you all the time, princess.” His words and that nickname light a spark at the base of your spine. You can feel yourself melting, ready to come undone.
“So close,” you choke out in between thrusts.
You clamp down on him. “That’s it,” Logan whispers, his cock rutting into you, his fingers still circling your clit. He’s working you through it, taking care of you, making you feel good. “Come on my cock, pretty girl. Wanna feel it.”
You can’t help but do as he says—that spark at the base of your spine spreading like wildfire. You’re moaning his name, walls squeezing around him, stars blurring your vision as your orgasm floods through you. But Logan isn’t slowing down, his cock pounding into you and his fingers stroking your clit long after you’ve finished.
“Love feeling you come,” he mutters, biting your lip in between kisses. “Wanna feel you come again, princess.”
You’re already beyond fucked out, overstimulated, and far too sensitive, but his words goad you along. “’S’so much, Lo,” you whimper, tripping over your sentence as he splits you apart, sinks into you, hitting your g-spot with every pump.
“Know you can take it,” he praises, pressing a kiss just under your ear, then to your pulse point, and back up to your lips. “Know you can come again for me, can’t you?”
“Y-yes,” you stammer. “A-anything for you.” You mean it, and he knows you do.
“Fuck,” he curses, his thrusts growing sloppier as the words fall from your lips. “F-fucking beautiful, perfect.”
You look to where you two are connected—where you become one—and watch as his cock disappears into you. It’s too much, the sight, the feeling of him fucking into you, rubbing your clit, chasing your orgasm. It’s all it takes to have you falling apart underneath him, coming on his cock again.
After a few soothing strokes to your clit, his nails trail up your body, his fingertips exploring your bare skin. Logan curses under his breath, your name on his lips. You know he’s close behind—almost there.
“Don’t pull out,” you whisper in his ear, his cock pulsing inside you. “Stay.”
That’s all the permission he needs to fill you up, his hips stuttering as he comes. “F-fuck,” he groans, his hand slipping under your back to hike you up, to bury himself as deep as possible, to hold you flush against him as he finishes inside you.
He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, but he doesn’t pull out. He grabs your thigh and hoists your leg around his waist as he shifts you onto your side. You’re next to him now, your chests still pressed together.
“Lemme stay inside you,” he mumbles.
You nod against him. “Okay.” You squeeze your leg around his waist, taking him deeper.
The room is silent, your shared shallow breaths the only sound. The curtains dance in the breeze from the still-open window. Your eyes flutter shut, and Logan’s lips press a kiss to each of them.
After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Don’t ever wanna spend a night without you.”
Your eyes flutter back open, and you’re met with Logan’s soft, sleepy face. His hair is a mess. You can’t help but smile at the intimacy—the domesticity. “You don’t have to,” you say back.
“I mean it,” his voice is steady, firm, the sleepiness replaced suddenly with something more serious. “Need you with me all the time.”
“I know,” you say. And then he’s drawing stars across your back. It makes you think of the night this all started. The night everything changed. “I’ll always stay. Always.” You blink and an unexpected tear slips down your cheek. You swallow harshly, unprepared for the vulnerability of the moment.
Logan immediately notices and brings his thumb up to your cheek, brushing the tear away. “Just want you. Give anything to make you mine.”
“I already am,” is all you can manage to say. “Don’t need anything.”
“Gonna give it to you anyway.” He kisses the spot where he wiped the tear away.
You start to drift off—his arms around you, his cock still buried inside you—the thought of a forever with Logan replaying in your mind.
You think he’s asleep, but then you hear his soft husk at your ear. “I love you. Always will.”
“I love you, too.”
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