#matthew gray gubler x ofc

[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 03. kiss in the rain

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: Elodie's birthday is coming up!

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

Chapter warnings: Mention of nightmares, of Rowan Rancher.

Word count: 1.8k

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

When I fall in love, it will be forever - Jane Austen

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Her

I made the mistake of suggesting an audio tourguide when we stepped foot into this museum. We as in Spencer and I. After exchanging phone numbers and that call before I fell asleep, we’ve been consistently calling. Even when he has a case. He puts his phone in his front pocket and starts rambling, even when he’s talking to others. And ever since we do that, ever since his voice is the last one I hear before I fall asleep, I don’t have nightmares. 

Because I don’t have an eidetic memory like he does, I barely remember a word he said when we were in the museum, looking at different paintings. All I remember was the smile on my face, was the lingering of my eyes on his tall and lanky physique and how he’s so passionate about anything really, expressively talking with his hands. 

The two of us are now sitting at the cafe close to the museum. Him with an americano (and not only poured his own sugar packet in it, but also mine), me with a cappuccino.

‘Why do you have tattoos?’ Spencer asks.

I stare at the dots on my hand. I wonder if he knows how many tattoos I’m hiding underneath my clothes. I’ve got a lot of them. On my arms, my legs, my back, underneath my breasts. 

‘My father hated them,’ I say, ‘so when I was eighteen, the first thing I did was scheduling a tattoo appointment, so I could get inked. Whenever dad—‘ I realize quickly I’m outside. Talking about Rowan Rancher as my father could possibly fall onto the wrong ears. ‘Whenever he dated a woman prior to you know, he always checked whether or not she had tattoos.’

‘If she did, was it worse?’

I nod. ‘If she did, they found her. If she didn’t, I helped them find her.’

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. With zero tact—and I absolutely think it’s adorable—he says: ‘Your birthday is in three days.’

‘True.’

‘What is the perfect way for you to spend your birthday?’

‘Honestly, I just want to browse for hours on end at Barnes and Nobles, no rush, just me and books. That’s all.’

‘Do you have anything to do in three days?’ Spencer asks. ‘I could take you to Barnes and Nobles. I find it soothing to spend my time around books too. Besides, I have to buy this newest book about quantum physics and corpus linguistics and hopefully I can find it there.’

I offer him a smile. ‘Do you want to spend your day with me, Spencer?’ I ask. 

‘It’s your birthday,’ he states. ‘I…’ I watch how he fidgets with his hands, tension in each of his fingers. ‘I know how it is to spend your birthdays alone. I don’t want you to spend it alone.’

Thank the stars for russet brown skin, because I would’ve been a blushing mess if I favored my father with his paler skin and blue eyes. I run my fingers through my black hair and say: ‘I’d like to spend my birthday with you. Especially in Barnes and Nobles.’

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Them

‘Reid,’ Garcia says, almost dragging Spencer out of his thoughts and concentration. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m trying to create an understandable map of the local Barnes and Nobles.’

‘For yourself?’ Prentiss asks, rolling her desk chair over to Spencer’s desk. ‘I thought you had an eidetic memory and know your way around.’

‘I do have an eidetic memory,’ he states, ‘however I am taking Elodie to Barnes and Nobles for her birthday and because she has never been there before, I want to make sure the experience isn’t too overwhelming for her.’

‘Elodie?’ Prentiss asks, her eyes widening in intrigue. ‘As in Elodie Price?’

‘Yes.’

Morgan joins them and says: ‘Pretty boy has taken a liking in Elodie. They call every night before she goes to sleep.’

‘Usually we call at nine o’clock and ninety five percent of the time, she’s asleep at nine forty five,’ Spencer says, thinking back about the times where he doesn’t hear her hums, but instead hears soft snores. He goes back to creating the map again and Garcia ruffles his hairs.

‘You’re so sweet when you’re in love with someone,’ she says. ‘Elodie sure is a lucky girl.’

‘Why do you like her so much?’ Prentiss asks curiously.

‘She’s intriguing,’ Spencer answers, continuing using the ruler to draw a straight line. ‘You know that whenever she talks, I feel like I never want to press pause. I just want to absorb every syllable.’  He looks up with a smile—a very telling one—and whispers: ‘And whenever I look at her, I don’t want to look away.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

Thankfully Spencer saved the happy birthday serenade for when he picked me up from my place, holding two cupcakes in his hands, one with a two and the other with a six. Once we’re in front of the Barnes and Nobles, he gives me a piece of paper. ‘What is it?’ I ask, folding it open. ‘A map?’

‘I created a map for you, since you told me you haven’t been to this Barnes and Nobles.’

Sometimes it’s hard not to smother this man with hugs.

The two of us make our way into the promised land, surrounded by books. Spencer follows me like a little duckling, though I think he knows better than anyone what’s the best route. Instead of berating me for taking a massive detour—it’s that massive I noticed it myself—he gives me all the precise measurements of this building. 

We stop near the romance section and I fold the map, putting it into my pocket, before I look at the spines and all the beautiful book covers. 

‘Romance novels generate over one point forty four billion dollars in revenue, making romance the highest earning genre of fiction,’ Spencer says. ‘Have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?’

I shake my head. ‘No, why would I?’

‘It’s the Best-Selling romance novel of all time,’ he answers. ‘Sold over one hundred fifty million copies, surpassing Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen with a good thirty million copies.’

‘I haven’t read Pride and Prejudice either,’ I say. ‘Though it’s a classic.’

Spencer nods. ‘Do you have a colleague degree, Elodie? Because approximately forty five percent of the romance readers have a college degree.’

It’s an odd way of conversing, sure, but I’m always curious to see what he’s gonna say next.

‘I’ve studied English in college,’ I say, ‘so yeah, I’ve got a degree.’

While Spencer provides me with tons of other facts about the building, the romance genre and certain authors, I put more and more books into my basket. Eventually we go towards his section of preferred books, with the help of the map. I watch him rhythmically pointing towards the bookshelves, almost like a conductor in front of an orchestra. While I am going to buy seven books, he is going to buy two he came for. 

However, once we’re near the check out, he grabs my shopping basket from me and says: ‘Happy birthday, Elodie.’

It takes me a good five seconds before I catch up. ‘No,’ I say, trying to grab the basket from him. ‘No, no, no, you’re not gonna pay for my books.’

‘It’s your birthday,’ he says, ‘of course I am gonna pay for the books. That is my gift to you.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

We end up at my apartment and together we stare out of the window, watching the rain pour from the dark sky. ‘I love the rain,’ I admit.

‘Why?’ 

‘I don’t know. It gives off something cosy. Don’t you think?’ 

Spencer nods, standing behind me as he takes in the rain. I hear his fingers tapping on the phone and not long afterwards, his footsteps walk away from me. I look over my shoulder, when I see him putting on his coat, before grabbing mine. 

‘What are you doing?’ I ask. 

‘According to many romance movies and novels, the rain is considered highly romantic.’ He places my coat on my shoulders, before he tugs my hand. 

‘Spencer, what are we doing?’

‘We’re going out in the rain,’ he tells me matter of factly. ‘Considering your favorite genre is romance, I think you deserve a romantic moment on your birthday.’

His fingers laced through mine and together we walk towards the exit. The raindrops fall on my head and my skin and I let out a juvenile squeal, delighted to be outside. I spread my arms and turn my face to the sky, closing my eyes, enjoying every single second of it. 

‘Elodie.’

My eyes meet Spencer’s, before we offer each other a smile. Shit, I could look at his gorgeous face for eternity and never ever be tired of it. ‘Yes, Spencer?’

‘Have you ever kissed someone?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, when I was younger. Why?’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

I’ve been yearning for a true kiss from you ever since you stepped foot into my life, Spencer Reid. Yes, I want you to kiss me and once you start, I don’t want you to stop. Instead of spilling those words, I simply nod. 

Spencer’s hair is stuck to his face and with a brute gesture, he pushes the locks from his face, before his large hands cup my face. He bridges the distance between us. His lips clash on mine and while it definitely could use some work, I take him in with everything I’ve got. His lips, his scent, his touch. I cling onto his jacket, parting my lips.

‘Happy birthday, Elodie,’ he whispers against me. 

I don’t want to let go. Not yet at least. I want to savor this moment. Savor the moment of him kissing me, of me having a normal birthday for the first time since I can remember. My body curves towards his, as we kiss again. 

■□■□■□■□■□■

Them

The elevator is crowded. Rossi, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss all join Spencer in the small and confined space. ‘How was Elodie’s birthday?’ Prentiss asks.

‘It was fun, after I gave her her birthday cupcake, we went to the bookstore, had a coffee and then went back to her place. We then spend some time in the rain.’

‘The rain?’ JJ lets out a low whistle. ‘Romantic.’

‘You know what I always want to do at least once in my life?’ Prentiss asks. ‘Kiss in the rain.’ She lets out a deep sigh, while staring lovingly ahead of her.

‘Elodie and I kissed in the rain.’

Everyone in the elevator simultaneously turns around and looks at Spencer. ‘You did what?’ JJ asks.

‘So unfair, you kissed in the rain?’ Prentiss whines.

Rossi pats him on the shoulder, while Morgan starts to laugh and say: ‘I knew something was different about you, kid.’

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Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[z3ld4]

Mercy Me - Part Two

PART ONE

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Dissociation, PTSD trigger, slight wlw moments if you squint, the word hippie? (idk if people find it offensive bc i feel like it could be but im not sure but better safe than sorry right?)

Word Count: 1k i think

A/N: i have no concept of time or how hitchhiking really works. bone apple tea 😎

Surprisingly, it was pretty easy to find a person willing to let Jacqueline catch a ride. She sat on the side of the road with her thumb sticking out and after the first four cars, a salmon Volkswagen van pulled onto the shoulder.

A girl poked her head out of the window. She had a medium complexion with ambiguous features. What stuck out the most was her rich brown hair and eyes, the curly hair was left natural, bound into a loose ponytail by a bandana. “Where are ya headed, Darlin’?” The thick Georgian accent caught Jacqueline off guard. But it reminded her of her friend JJ’s husband, Will.

“Uh… DC?” Jacqueline called out, the back of her neck was beginning to burn, and right now, the person driving a van probably won’t kill her.

The girl’s face lit up and Jacqueline noticed that she had pink braces. “I’m goin’ there too! Hop in Doll, it’s not like I’m a serial killer or anything!” Jacqueline stopped walking to the side of the can. Her body looked almost posed with her hand reaching out for the door handle.

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.” Jacqueline knew that it was irrational, thinking that way. That the girl with the hot pink blush didn’t really seem like the murdering type but, maybe it was the job, maybe the trauma, she can’t bring herself to fully trust her.

The girl feigned hurt, “Okay then. My name ‘s Gertrude, but you can call me Trudy pretty lil’ thang, Grayhiker. I’m twenty-three and I am currently driving back to DC so I can finish up my degree.” The girl stuck her arm out the window of the car and grinned down at Jacqueline. She looked nineteen, it was almost amazing Trudy was even able to drink.

“My name is uh Jacqueline Laymore, you can call me Jacqie I guess.” Jacqueline's fist-bumped Trudy’s open hand awkwardly, “I need to get back to DC for my job.”

Jacqueline opened the car door and stepped inside. The inside of the van looked like the 60’s vomited in it. It was extremely colorful and the walls were plastered with ‘hippie’ bands. There was also a dreamcatcher dangling before a window. Jacqueline wondered if it was authentic or not, by the looks of Trudy’s personality she would assume so. Trudy patted the passenger’s seat and Jacqueline crawled over the console and situated herself in the seat.

“If ya’ don't mind me askin’, what’s your job?” Trudy smiled at Jacqueline as she started driving again. Jacqueline hurriedly buckled her seatbelt and uncomfortably dragged her nails along the fabric of her pants. “I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’m actually a licensed psychologist.” A piece of her bangs started irritating Jacqueline’s right eye and she rubbed at it harshly.

Trudy looked over to Jacqueline and giggled, “You have gorgeous eyes, Babes. Very exotic looking with the one blue and the other brown. You look far too young to be a psychologist though. Isn’t it a little coinkydink that I’m studying for my doctorate and you’re already a psychologist?”

Jacqueline found herself at a loss for words, it’s not that people didn’t compliment her eyes — they did, a lot — but the genuine compliment was something new to her. Most people just think it’s cool that her eyes are different colors, and others think she’s a freak. All of the people at work just pitied her for her eye colors due to the relentless animosity from her hometown regarding her eyes.

“I’m only thirty-one. I went to college a little early. How is your degree going?” Jacqueline’s eyes follow Trudy’s profile and gauge her microexpressions.

Trudy turned to Jacqueline for a second and smiled and Jacqueline’s heart skipped a beat. “Thirty-one? You don’t look a day over eighteen!” Jacqueline mumbled thanks before looking out of her window. The blush covering her cheeks started flowing to her ears and by now Trudy must have noticed.

There are eight years between the two and Trudy is trying to make a move on Jacqueline. While Jacqueline has no problem with girls and stuff like that, the idea of being intimate with anyone at that moment would be the equivalent of eating salt and vinegar chips after biting your lips.

Jacqueline happened to love salt and vinegar chips, but at that moment, literally anything else seemed like the better option.

No one needs the baggage that came with Jacqueline Laymore.

“Angel? Are you doing alright?” Trudy asked. Jacqueline didn’t pay attention to anything past that because her eyes kept going in and out of focus. Eventually, the world just faded to nothingness, though Jacqueline could feel herself moving.

Her state of mind was brought back to the present when Trudy set a warm hand on Jacqueline's shoulder. “Jacqie? Are you alright?”

Jacqueline realized she was dissociating. The name ‘angel’ must have triggered her. Gabriel always called her, ‘his angel.’ “How long was I out of it?”

“You were dissociating, right? Did I trigger your PTSD or something?” Trudy’s eyes were moving from the road to Jacqueline so fast, Jacqueline thought they might roll out of her head. Jacqueline nodded. “Only a few minutes. Are you alright?” Jacqueline nodded again before leaning her head onto her hand. The countryside was passing her by and all she could think about was Gabriel’s voice.

Everything felt like she was underwater. Jacqueline always used to tell Spencer that everything bad that’s happened to her started with a bath. So far, it was true. The feeling of submerging your head underwater and being able to hear the pipelines. It was nostalgic for Jacqueline. Not the good nostalgic. Just because it was a simpler time for her didn’t mean it was a better one. The van kept driving along. 

The two girls knew they were in for a long drive west so Trudy started turning up the volume on her radio. It got to the point where Jacqueline couldn’t think past the music and the two started singing and dancing along to it. Trudy seemed to really enjoy how Jacqueline was reacting to the songs so Jacqueline started singing louder. Always the people pleaser.

At some point, Trudy stopped and pulled into a McDonald’s drive-thru.

“What do you want Jacq?” Trudy asked.

“Can I have a cheeseburger and fries with a coke? I can pay you back.” Jacqueline fished out Gabriel’s wallet and pulled out ten dollars to give to Trudy. Trudy took the money as she pulled up to the next window.

Once their food comes they eat as they continue to drive west. Theatrically, they drove into the sunset.

[writingsonawall]

Fallen, falling prologue

Pairings: Spencer Reid x OFC

Story summary: Spencer randomly meets Leah at the library and their first encounter was supposed to be just that; a random one-time occurance. When an unsub lands Spencer in the very same hospital she works at, she feels obligated to take care of him. But what happens when his team notices her everlooming presence and theorises that perhaps she could be the unsub they’re looking for? 

Chapter summary: Spencer meets a strange girl at the library. 

Warnings: None. 

Wordcount: 3,4 k

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, 

Spencer awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling uneasy about the fact that he stood there watching a girl sprawled out on the couch in his usual readingnook. It wasn’t that he wanted to watch her like some kind of creep, it was more that he had no idea what to do. He had found her librarycard over by the printer and planned to put it in the lost and found box, but he had found the owner still to still be in the library, much to his surprise. The library was typically scarce of people, especially on a Sundaynight. But she was for some reason still there, sprawled out in a position that could not be comfortable. She was kind of reverse compared to a usual position, her head hanging off the couch, her blonde locks brushing the rug below her. Her feet were dangling off the back of the sofa, feet crossed at the ankles. A book laid on her stomach, both her hands resting ontop of it. Even in her strange position, Spencer noticed that her eyes were closed. He wondered if she was sleeping, which was why he was reluctant to approach her. 

But he did, feeling like he had to return the card. She didn’t seem to notice him and if she did, she didn’t say anything. He decided the best thing to do would be to leave her alone, so he put the card down at the table by the couch, next to the papercup which he assumed was hers as well.

“I swear to God,” the sound of her voice startled him, making him jump back and hit his leg on the edge of the table. “If you steal my coffee I’m gonna be furious.” Spencer just looked down at her, himself slightly crouched over to rub at his bruised calf. It didn’t really hurt too bad, but he assumed we would be sporting a nice bruise in a couple of days. He noticed that her voice was slightly slurred, as if she’d just woken up from a nap trying to find out about her whereabouts. Or if she was high or drunk. In Spencer’s opinion she seemed to be a reasonable candidate for all three. 

“Oh, I, um, wasn’t trying to steal your coffee,” he stuttered out, staring at her with wide eyes. He felt like he’d just been caught with a hand in the cookiejar. “I, uh, I was just gonna, um, return your librarycard… which I found, um… by the printer.” He felt awkward, having no idea what to say. Perhaps it was the fact that she was pretty and Spencer had no idea how to talk to pretty girls outside of work. Actually scratch that; he had no idea how to talk to people outside of work. 

The girl twisted her head and Spencer found himself cringing at the strained angle of her neck. It really could not be comfortable. She must have noticed her card laying on the table because she made “huh” noise, as if she was surprised by what she saw.

“Well, thanks,” she told him and Spencer was surprised by the lack of emotions in her voice. She didn’t sound tired like she had before, or angry or happy. It was just flat, like she uttered a gratitude she didn’t really mean. She reached one hand towards the table, almost falling off the couch in the progress, but she managed to get a hold of the cup, as if that was more important than putting her recently returned librarycard somewhere safe. “Coffee’s just really important to me, you know? God, I love me some coffee,” she said in a more relaxed and happy tone now. Spencer found himself nodding along as if he understood exactly what she was saying. He didn’t. He’d never cared for the taste, even though he drank plenty of cups a day. He’d always sprinkle it with so much cream and sugar that the bitter taste was almost completely masked. No, he’d never liked coffee, per say, but he drank it like a habit he couldn’t shake. So perhaps coffee was important to him after all? 

The girl (Spencer supposed he should stop calling her that in his mind, her name was Leah, it was on her librarycard) took a sip of the papercup and he was amazed. Her head was still somewhat hanging off the couch and it should have been awkward and difficult to drink something upsidedown like that, but she did it with such ease; no coughing to suggest she’d swallowed wrong and not a single drop spilled. Spencer wondered for a second if she’d tricked him, pretending that she’d been drinking when the cup was in fact empty, but when she opened her mouth to let out a happy sigh he could smell the coffee off her breath. He couldn’t smell anything else coming off of her, so he quickly cast aside his earlier assumptions about her being under the influence. Maybe she was just… weird? And was he really that close to her that he could smell her breath? Yeah, he was. He was only about a foot away, still bent down to clutch his calf which didn’t hurt anymore. And the fact that she was laying down and he was standing just made him tower over her. 

Awkwardly, he rose to his full height again and took a few smaller steps back. She watched him kind of like a hawk, her deep green eyes following him and if he wasn’t mistaken a smug smile tugged on the corner of lips. Or perhaps it was a frown. It was really hard to tell when she was upsidedown like that and his brain seemed to be malfunctioning. An IQ of 187 suddenly dropped to 60, as Emily had once said to him. And God, if that wasn’t an adequate description in that moment. Dr. Spencer Reid felt like an idiot.  

“You can sit, you know,” the girl, no, her name was still Leah, told him. There was a twinkle in her eye so the feature playing on her lips was definitely an amused smile. Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck for some reason. He was really terrible at socializing. 

“Oh no, that’s, uh, that’s okay. I don’t want to bother you,” he told her, his voice somehow managing to crack despite being barely above a whisper. He hated how pathetic he was acting. She looked at him for a moment, then took another sip of her coffee before disposing the cup on the table once more. It made a hollow sound when it hit the wood so Spencer suspected that it was empty now. 

“I don’t think you could possibly ever bother me.” Her reply was simple enough and as fate would have it, Spencer was about to prove her wrong. With no reason as to why, he took a seat on the other couch, snuggling up into the corner and started reading one of the five books he’d selected a few minutes ago. He should have just taken the books home, but he always loved the library. It was something about the atmosphere, a change in scenery perhaps. Libraries were made for reading, right? And it felt like his territory and he didn’t want to be scared out of his secondary home by some pretty, but strange girl. That had to be the reason why he stayed, he didn’t even dare contemplate that perhaps he stayed because of Leah. Maybe there was a little part of him that wanted to stay in the same space as her for just a little longer, but there was no way he wanted to think that idea. If anything she was just… interesting. 

He started reading his first book of choice, eyes roaming the pages and flipping them every few seconds. And with every other page he flipped, his eyes darted over to Leah, just to see what she was doing. She spent the first couple of minutes reading as well, being way slower than him when it came to turning the pages. Spencer estimated that she made it through about two and half set of pages before the book once more fell neglected onto her stomach. 

“You know,” her voice broke through the silence about ten minutes later. Spencer glanced up from his book, meeting her eyes across the table. “If you’re gonna read that thing, the first page is usually a nice place to start,” she told him with that amused smile on her face. 

“Oh, I am... reading,” he told her, feeling confused all of a sudden. He was reading, keep in mind that it was a little harder to concentrate because he felt the urge to cast her glances every now and then. Had she caught him looking? Was that what she meant?  

“Dude!” She exclaimed, tucking her knees into her chest. “You’re just flipping the pages.” An easy laugh fell from her lips as she rolled over, suddenly sitting on her legs on the couch and Spencer wanted to point out that her shoes might stain the cushions, but he didn’t dare say anything. He just stared at her for a moment, still a little confused, but then it hit him. 

“Oh, no. I just read… really fast,” he told her, proud of himself for being able to hold her glance for a second or so before he felt his cheeks heat up. He allowed himself to cast his eyes back to the book in his hands, his teeth coming down to worry at his bottom lip. Leah made that “Huh” sound again, but he didn’t dare look up at her. 

“And you can actually understand what you’re reading?” She asked him, clearly intrigued. And Spencer couldn’t understand why. Why would someone be interested in understanding how his brain worked? Sure, some of his coworkers were also amazed the first time they’d met him, but they always grew bored and annoyed fairly quickly. Maybe it was his constant rambling, or the fact that he had a tendency to use complicated words because that was easier for him to understand. And for some reason he really didn’t want to scare Leah away with his nerdiness. 

“Well, yes.” He decided to keep his answer short. He was still a little uncertain as to why this girl seemed so interested in him. Every single nerveending in his brain told him to stay cautious of her, having both seen and experienced a thing or two in his line of duty. But she just didn’t give off any bad vibes. She was strange, sure, but then so again so was he. 

“God, wish that was me,” Leah told him, giving him an overly dramatic sigh. “I’m terrible at reading.” She continued, not saying anything else and for once Spencer understood the social concept of her wanting to make conversation. She was hinting at him to not let the conversation die. He still wasn’t entirely certain as to why. 

“You actually can’t be terrible at reading,” he told her, feeling the urge to correct her. He had a whole monologue planned out in his head, about how reading is actually about the brain trying to process words and putting them into context, and that your brain’s ability to work fast determines how fast you can read. He never got the chance to go one of his famous rambles because Leah let out a dark laugh, almost sounding selfdeprecating. 

“Yeah, well, I still suck,” she said, leaving no room for argument. Spencer felt a little taken back by that, mostly used to people accepting his facts or simply ignore them, not outright deny them. For her it was a personal fact, her own subjective opinion, but still. “I can’t concentrate, you know? I mean, I can read, sure, but I only get a few pages in and then I just lose it. I dunno. I’ve just never been much of a reader, at least not novels and stuff. I mean, news articles and stuff like that is fine, but actually finishing a book in one sitting? No way. I just get tired and unfocused and fidgety.” Her rambling brought a smile to his face and he didn’t even realize that he’d looked up at her again before she leaned over to grab her cup once again. “Hence the coffee.” She raised the cup in a sort of salut before tipping it back, even shaking the little container as if to get every last, little drop that was in there. 

“Hence the coffee,” Spencer mumbled to himself, for no reason really. Sometimes he just did that, mumbled things to himself. 

“Well, out of coffee,” Leah said, her bottom lip sticking a little in, dare he say it, the most adorable pout he’d possibly ever seen. Her mood seemed to shift so fast that it almost gave Spencer a whiplash. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if she was just teasing him, but it still peaked his interest in her. “So, stranger!” Leah announced, untangling her legs from underneath her. She stood up and stretched out a little. Spencer could hear a few of her joints popping as she did so. 

“Actually, my name is Spencer,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. He honestly had no idea why he was telling her that. Why did he? She didn’t know him, probably had no interest in getting to know him other than having a small talk which social cues demanded in a situation like this. 

“Well, Spencer…” she drew his name out, as if testing how it sounded on her lips. “Do you wanna go across the street and grab another coffee with me?” Her question, as innocent as it may be, made him freeze up. Why was she asking him? Out of kindness? Did she want to get to know him better? Was she, oh dear God, asking him out? No, she couldn’t possibly be. They’d talked about coffee, hers was empty and she probably felt obligated to ask if he wanted one as well. 

“Coffee at,” he cast a quick glance down at his watch. “Nine-thrity?” He asked her. 

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged her shoulders at the same time she bent down to collect the bookbag tucked away on the floor by the couch she’d previously been occupying. For the first time he noticed her touching the librarycard which had started this strange evening, grabbing it off the table and slipping into the bag, seemingly careless as to where it went. 

“Uh, sure,” Spencer found himself replying before he even realized it. Leah looked back at him, a look of pleasant surprise clouding her features. Her lips curved upwards to a grin. 

“Great!” She told him. “My treat. Since you found my card and all. And since I obviously ruined your night.” Spencer found himself smiling at that. 

“Oh, you didn't ruin my night. I didn’t have anything planned anyway.” He had no idea why his words flooded out of his mouth so easily now. Perhaps it was the fact that he was correcting her statement, something he never had problems with, or maybe he was just warming up to her quicker than most people. 

She looked like she was about to say something when a phone suddenly started ringing. Spencer was about to reach out for his, afraid it might be Hotch calling with another case, but Leah had already fished out hers. A grimace crossed her face and for some reason Spencer knew it was something that was going to put a stop to their coffeerun. 

“Work.” Was all Leah said and she turned her phone around so that Spencer could see the display. He didn’t even get to think about how strange that was, showing your phone to someone you’d just met. He could only chuckle at the name of the caller. 

“You call your boss ‘Badass Boss Bitch’?” He asked her, finding that highly amusing for some reason. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, she’s badass and my boss and kind of bitch sometimes.” Leah laughed as finished gathering her stuff. She still hadn’t made any move to actually answer the phone. “Anyway, so… Raincheck on that coffee?” She asked him, already heading in the direction of the door. Spencer was so shocked by the turn of events he didn’t even know what to do. Was he supposed to chase her out the door? Follow her while she spoke to her boss? Or would she come back when she’d ended the call?

“Uh, sure,” was all he could say, feeling that earlier awkwardness settle in again. She had already disappeared out of sight, the aisles of books blocking his path of view. But he could hear her footsteps heading for the door. 

“Great! See you,” she called out, leaving behind no clue as how they’d see each other again. Just as the door to the library opened he could hear her answer the phone with a faint “Yeah, hello?” And that was it. Suddenly he was left alone, in his usual nook in the library with four books that were yet to be read. And he had no idea why he felt so lonely. A quiet Sundaynight at the library was usually the best he could hope for. Now he felt strangely… sad about it. Maybe it was just the fact that no one usually paid any attention to him while he was in the library. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to someone in there who wasn’t one of the librarians who only worked during the day. Probably never. Well, Spencer had an eidetic memory, so it was definitely never. Truth be told, Spencer hardly ever spoke to people outside of work. He rarely started conversations with people in his free time. It was always the exchange in pleasantries with the clerks at the grocerystore, or thanking the deliverymen who had to walk up the four flights of stairs whenever he was too tired to cook himself dinner (which was most nights, as a matter of fact) or other people he felt obligated to talk to. He rarely ever had a real conversation with anyone just because he wanted to. 

Perhaps that’s why he missed Leah’s strange persona. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. He hadn’t seen her around the library before and she did say she wasn’t much of a reader, so bumping into her there seemed unlikely. She had mentioned a coffeeshop across the street, but he didn’t even know if that was a place she usually hangs out at or if it was just her go to now because it was close. He didn’t know anything about her, really. Except for a name. He could get Garcia to run her through the internet, but that would just be creepy. No, he definitely couldn’t do that. He’d just have to face the fact that he’d probably never see her again. 

So, Spencer decided not to think too much about Leah, instead turning back to his book. He finished it and then another and then another. By the time he’d finished all of them it was closer to 10:15 so he decided to head home. Returning the books to their usual spots, he took a minute to check his phone. Noticing no new messages from Hotch, he headed out into the crisp air. It was mid April so the nights were still cool even though the temperatures during the day were climbing. He’d always liked the spring; snow melting, flowers blooming, the days getting longer. 

It had been a long day for Spencer. He’d spent the majority of it finishing up files on closed cases, rereading some coldcases without actually getting a new point of view, for once making himself a decent homecooked meal, reorganizing the books in his bookshelf at home, going to the library and meeting Leah… Yeah, it had been a good day, but also a long one and Spencer couldn’t wait to get home to his empty bed, get a good night's rest before returning to the office the next morning. 

In fact, Spencer was so consumed by the idea that he didn’t even register the unmistakable sound of a gun going off until he felt the burning pain in his lower abdomen.

[cyn-00]

A few months ago I saw a post about Derek's nicknames for Spencer and viceversa, and I literally can't sleep because I keep imagining a scene where like. Spencer gets SUPER flustered after letting slip out at work something like "Derek, my love"

[recollins]

I haven’t stopped laughing since I read this comment. This is my favorite way to describe Spencer Reid 

[writethelifeyouwant]

Repeat After Me: I Need A Vacation

Characters: Spencer, JJ and family, Emily, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Penelope, OFC

Word Count: 2014

Warnings: Fluff and friendship :)

Summary: I was on vacation and then I was thinking about what they would be like on vacation and then I pushed my loneliness and need for love onto Spencer and this is essentially gonna be super fluffy and probably corny and just roll with it. Am open to taking constructive criticism as well as scenario suggestions! Because I have some semblance of plot laid out but that pesky middle bit is non existent at the moment. So enjoy your fluffy team bonding on a beach with eventual Spencer love interest! This work is cross posted on AO3 and FFN.

“In light of the recent events, I’m putting your team on mandatory leave. Six weeks. Starting now.” AD Barnes’ voice was strict, and emphatically not to be argued with. However, it betrayed her lack of profiling experience, because convincing Prentiss that she and her team needed a vacation was not what one would call a challenge at this point in time. They had been kicked so hard recently, Emily knew she needed to get her team out of the heat for a while. Or, she thought, into the heat depending on where they decide to go get that vacation.

“Thank you ma’am.” Emily nodded and exited the de-briefing as swiftly as she could without being obvious that her goal was to get as far away from Barnes as quickly as possible. She called the elevator bring her back down to the bullpen and her team. Even though she had dismissed them, Emily was sure not a one had left, and they were anxiously waiting on Barnes’ assessment of their most recent arrest. It hadn’t gone smoothly, per se, and the team could feel the ragged nerves hanging in the air between them.

They were huddled around JJ’s and Spencer’s desks, speaking in hushed tones of worry, anticipating the worst their sentence might result in. Luke seemed to exude the most obvious jittery energy. He’d never been on the wrong side of the establishment before he joined the BAU, and he hadn’t accustomed himself to the trips to the principal’s office quite yet.

Knowing her news was actually a positive scenario, Emily stopped short of the group and savoured their pregnant silence before she granted them their reprieve. “Six weeks mandatory leave guys.” The concurrent exhales soared through the air at her announcement and the giddy high of relief surged through the assembled agents. Garcia and JJ actually made small fist pumping motions before tapping each others’ knuckles. Matt, Luke and Tara exchanged relieved smiles, and Rossi just settled back more firmly in his chair, flipping through his phone. Spencer was the only one who still looked vaguely irritated. He didn’t know how to stop working as effectively as his team mates. Emily smiled brightly, her eyes shining in an echo of her team’s consolation.

“Okay everyone, get out of here!” Emily made shooing motions, and she didn’t have to tell them twice. The gaggle began to gather their belongings and filter towards the elevators in pairs and trios.

“Does anyone want to get pizza?” Garcia threw out the option as they crowded an unwise number of team mates into the elevator cabin.

“Oh I could murder a pepperoni right now,” Emily’s voice leaked with what might be considered an inappropriate amount of desire based on the conversation topic.

“We can order to my place? Girls night?” Penelope reached out for JJ’s hand and swivelled around to catch Tara’s eyes.

“If you have wine to go with that pizza then I’m in,” Tara smiled. “JJ?”

“I think I can spare some time before I get back to my boys,” she weighed. “They’re about to be stuck with helicopter mom for six weeks after all.”

“All right, girls to Garcia’s!” Emily shouted as they filed out of the elevator in the parking garage. “Any boys want to petition for an exception?” Emily called walking backwards to her car.

“Not tonight,” Rossi called back. “You ladies have fun.”

“I’ve got my own ladies’ night waiting for me at home, but thanks!” Matt chuckled.

“Spence, Alvez?” JJ prodded.

“You know what, I think I’m gonna go see the new Avengers movie,” Luke answered checking his watch. “I didn’t think I’d be home for the release but it’s only nine, plenty of time to wait in line.” The girls all laughed as the characteristic excited puppy expression crept onto Luke’s face. “Reid, how ‘bout it?”

“You know what, why not.” Reid nodded and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Text me the theatre address?”

“Done and done. See ya there man,” Alvez moseyed to his car, tossing his keys between his hands as he went. Spencer waved back in acknowledgement, heading towards his own car.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Three varieties of pizza and several bottles of wine later, Emily and Penelope were draped across Garcia’s couch, while Tara took over the armchair, and JJ huddled into the bean bag next to the coffee table, cradling her glass of wine close to her chest.

“Emily,” Penelope drunk whispered (so the volume was really more suited to stagecraft than intimacy), “we should just stay like this forever. We should just spend our vacation on this couch, with pizza and Sergio and never leave.” Emily laughed, stoking Garcia’s hair like she was a cat herself.

“I should go to a beach,” JJ mused. “I haven’t been to a beach that didn’t involve corpses in years.”

“Ugh, I know!” Emily commiserated. “I thought for sure we could sneak in some time last time we were in California but no…” Emily drew out the vowel in a long mocking complaint. “‘Get your unit back right away chief. We want your report on the AD’s desk before tomorrow night chief.’ Blah blah blah.”

Garcia giggled at Emily’s robotic impersonation of the office bureaucrats. Then she nearly rolled off the couch in her excitement as her intoxicated brain attempted to communicate her newest scheme. JJ and Tara jumped to catch her, as Emily’s own laughter essentially pushed Garcia further towards the fuzzy carpet. “Guys, guys we should go! We” Penelope’s drink free hand flailed around to indicate she meant the friends surrounding her, “should go to the beach! Like, on a vacation!”

“You know,” Tara mused, “I could be up for that. Sun, sand, shirtless men…” she trailed off and swallowed any elaboration on her point with her next drag of wine.

“Exactly!” Garcia pointed her finger enthusiastically. “What she said!”

“Just a girls’ trip? I don’t know if I want to go away for too long without my boys, we get so little time off as it is.” JJ cut in.

“No, no, them too!” Penelope’s drunk excitement hadn’t been dulled but the planning oriented portion of her brain pushed past the alcohol wall to actually push her idea into the realm of a viable option. “All of us, girls, boys, JJ’s boys, like BAU goes to the beach. Like together!”

“If we can go somewhere close-ish I’m in, I just don’t feel like flying, we spend too much time on a jet,” Emily put in.

“Road trip! Even better!” Penelope clapped her hands incredibly enthusiastically as she ran to grab her laptop from the formica countertop of her kitchen, bringing another bottle of red with her in the same trip.

“Virginia has beaches, we can drive there, they literally have a place called Virginia. Beach. That’s totally a place we can go.” Garcia settled herself on the couch again with here laptop on the coffee table so everyone could see the screen while she googled options for beach rentals in Virginia Beach. JJ was already texting Will about asking for a week off.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

At the indecently early hour of 4:30 Spencer’s phone began vibrating against the base of the lamp it was resting against with entirely too much energy. The violent clattering sound jolted him awake and he grasped blindly for the offending noise, hoping to stop it before anyone else woke. This was not accomplished, however, as jerking his phone from the tabletop caused thee charging cord to topple the lamp onto the hardwood below, very effectively waking up the dog sleeping at the other end of the little room.

Roxy’s growling and Reid’s swearing and scrambling reached Luke in the next room, who stumbled incoherently towards the sleep disrupting noises.

“What the hell, man,” Luke grumbled, pulling a hand over his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. His search for the noise lighted on Reid trying to untangle his phone from the lamp, while Roxy paced around him trying to grab at the wires as if they were chew toys. Luke batted Roxy away from Reid as the other agent finally managed to disengage his phone from its cable in order to answer it. The Caller ID on thee screen informed him who was making this irritatingly early call and he groaned.

“Garcia, if you tell me we have a case right now, I swear, I’m quitting.” Reid grunted as he settled himself on the floor with his back leaning into the couch that had been serving as his makeshift bed.

“Reid we’re on leave, we can’t have a case.”

“Well then there is no good reason for you to be calling me at-“ Reid pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time, “4:32 am.” Spencer was unconsciously mimicking Luke’s earlier gesture of rubbing his hand across his face to encourage his muscles to reawaken and help him process what the hell was going on. He caught Luke’s eye as he was petting Roxy on the other end of the couch.

“Garcia?” He mouthed, ruffling the fur behind Roxy’s ears. Spencer nodded and put the call onto speaker just as Penelope was protesting.

“No, this is a good reason. A totally good reason, I promise.”

“Garcia, how much have you had to drink?” Luke cut in, his louder than necessary voice causing Spencer to flinch.

“Wait why is Luke there, are you guys having a sleepover?!” Garcia squealed and ushered all the girls on her end closer to the phone.

“His couch was closer than my bed. Calm down.”

“No but you’re bonding, that’s great!”

“Garcia, was there a purpose for this call?” Spencer groaned, smooshing further into the cushions behind him.

“Yes, yes there is, vacation. We’re going on a family vacation!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Vacation. Us. BAU family. At a beach. BAU goes to a beach.”

“Genuinely, Garcia, how much have you had to drink?” Spencer laughed.

“That is immaterial to this discussion.”

Luke raised his eyebrows, impressed at Garcia’s ability to recall both that vocabulary and that serious tone this far into the wine bottle he assumed she had stationed next to her at this point.

“Pipe down newbie, I can hear your eyebrows from here.” Luke’s brows moved even further back into his rumpled hairline if that was at all possible. Spencer snorted his laughter into his fist. “But, you have distracted me from my totally awesome plan, which is vacation, which you’re coming to.”

“Where…” Spencer had long ago learned the prudence of being cautious but optimistic about most of Garcia’s plans for team morale and bond building.

“Virginia Beach.”

“Why…?” Spencer didn’t really understand what hat she was pulling this out of yet.

“Because we’re on leave and we all need a break and the beach is great and it’s not that far.” Penelope huffed, she didn’t like being doubted. Her plan was brilliant.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to the beach,” Spencer mused. A chorus of ‘what!s’ and exclamations shot through the tinny speaker on his phone, met with a completely perplexed expression from himself and Luke.

“What do you mean you’ve never been to the beach?” JJ slurred accusatorially.

“I mean, it’s not like Las Vegas is on the coast, guys.” Reid shrugged, he hadn’t thought of it as a big deal, clearly he was about to be corrected.

“Well that settles it” Garcia said, “the pasty professor is coming, he doesn’t get a choice anymore. You in newbie?” Spencer looked over at Luke, who was sitting fairly stunned, idly petting at the air where Roxy hadn’t been for a solid thirty seconds at least.

“Um… I guess?” His confirmation definitely sounded like more of a question but that didn’t stop Garcia.

“Great! I’ll text you the details and car pool set ups when I finish. Night night sleep tight!”

The line went dead and a discordant dial tone rang out for a moment before Spencer hung up on his end as well, shaking his head in amusement and exasperation but primarily exhaustion.

“What just happened?”

.....

[greeneyedgirls4]

Look who’s calling..

Numbers request for anonymous for Seb Stan - 28 “You’re still mad?” (with lots of fluff). Sebastian Stan x reader.

No warnings. Fluff coming your way so be prepared with an umbrella or something :) Feedback is always welcome and if you have a one shot request or numbers request then please read here and feel free to get in touch with me anytime. 

I am away this weekend but any requests sent in today, tomorrow or at the weekend I will be publishing next week so keep checking back please. Thanks for this request and enjoy! @deathbyukmen 

You couldn't believe it! You couldn't believe how Sebastian Stan, your apparently devoted boyfriend could just stand there while you were talked down to like a child.

Storming into the kitchen you lift the phone and ring your best friend. “Hey, yes, Bell. No. Can you believe what he did?”

“I honestly can’t believe it. How could he stand there while you were called a child and god knows what else?”

“Exactly! I know we have an age difference but it doesn't bother us so why should it bother his parents?” You reply, taking a bite out of the chocolate beside the sink.

“Some men.” You can hear her chopping something in the background before sighing. “Is he there?”

“No. He knows I’ll be pissed and to stay away for at least an hour.”

“Good because I think someone needs to have a word with him about how to deal with bad parents.”

You hear the keys in the door and quickly tell Bell that you have to go. The moment Seb sees you his face falls. “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait! Doll wait.” You hear him call out but you walk straight past him without batting an eyelid.

“Don’t doll me!” You reply, turning to face him.

“You’re still mad?”

“How can you ask that? You just stood there Seb. I knew our age difference would be weird for some people but they had no right to say those things to me.”

“I know..” He says and the weakness of his voice breaks your heart. “I had a word with them when you left, told them to never speak to me again unless they can accept you.”

Your taken aback by his words. Your heart clenches and a small smile returns to your face. “Really?” He nods and you run to hug him. “Thank you.”

“They should never have said those things about the love of my life.”

Pulling back you place a light kiss to his lips. “Do you want to watch something?”

“Sure. I really wanted to start watching that show Criminal Minds.” You hear him whisper as his lips gently kiss your ear and his arms wrap around your waist.

“It’s really good! I love Reid.” You exclaim, wriggling out of Seb’s grip and turning the TV to the right setting.

“Who is this Reid? Should I be jealous?” You feel his arm wrap around your shoulders as he places himself beside you on the sofa.

“Only if I ever meet Matthew Gray Gubler.” You say, laughing when he narrows his eyes at you. You know he's only being playful but it’s still funny.

“I’ll make sure to not bring you to anything I know he will be attending..”

“Oh please bring me.. he's clearly not as good looking as you so you have about an eighty percent chance that I will not leave you for him.”

You watch him quirk an eyebrow at you before smiling. “Only eighty percent. So I still have a twenty percent chance that you will leave me for him?”

Smiling wide you turn your head towards the TV and press play. “Maybe..”

You wake the next morning still wrapped in Seb’s arms. Looking up you take in his peaceful, almost childlike face. Waking up with this every morning was definitely the best thing in life. Seb was the one who always liked lying in while you were an early bird. Sneaking out of his embrace, you tiptoe into the kitchen and begin making breakfast.

Halfway through buttering the toast you feel soft arms pull you into a strong chest and butterfly kisses being placed on your neck. “You know I love seeing you in my shirt.”

You smile down at the toast. “I forgot I put this on last night.”

“Don’t worry.. It’ll be coming off you soon.” He whispers against your neck and you feel a shiver go up your spine.

“Not until we eat.” You reply, smirking at his sleepy state while continuing to butter the last bit of toast.

“I love you doll.”

“I love you too Seb.”

You feel his arms leave you and a light chuckle escape him. “Look who’s calling to apologise..”

Turning you read the caller ID. “Oh, I wonder what your parents could possibly be apologising for?” You say causing Seb to press ignore before kissing you deeply.

Now this was the best thing in life.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Best Mistake of Your Life

Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader, Gwen (OFC)

Word Count: 1,392

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You accidentally send a snap to a stranger that may or may not be famous...

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

This is the December 16th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: I sent a selfie of myself in the tub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie. Holy shit you’re really attractive au

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Yeah, I’m finally in the bathtub. I’ve been looking forward to this night all week. Work has gotten me so stressed lately,” you rant to your best friend Gwen.

“You deserve it. I wish I were you right now. I can’t tell you how bored I am over at Steven’s place. Like, I love his family to pieces, but I’m ovulating right now. If we have any chance for a baby, it’s right now.”

“I suggest you drag his ass out of the house and take him home. You’ve been trying for so long.”

“Honey! We’re starting the game now!” you hear Steven faintly say on the other line.

“Got to go. He’s making everyone play flag football. Like I really want to be out there right now.

“Fake an injury. If anything, come to my house. I can’t help you make a baby, but I can help you relax.”

“Tempting. I’ll consider. Bye,” she says and hangs up.

The bubbles around you finally settle all around you. You put too much soap into the bath, so there are a lot more bubbles than there needs to be. If you were with your baby niece, you would be making beards out of the excess bubbles. Just thinking about her brings a smile to your face. The bathroom lights are off, leaving the five lit candles around the tub to be your only source of light. Soft music flows from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. It’s really hard to get good ones since there are so many knock offs, but you found one at the apple store for a really great price. It was too good to pass up.

You felt bad for Gwen since she and Steven have been trying to have a baby for a long time. Every time they think they landed one, she gets her period a few weeks later and the disappointment settles in. She wants to take every chance she gets, so you understand why she’s a little upset he’d rather be playing flag football.

Luckily for you, you don’t have this problem. You’ve been single by choice for a few years now since you wanted to focus on you for a change. Ever since sophomore year of high school, you’ve bounced from relationship to relationship, with the longest lasting two years. You haven’t given yourself a chance to know what it’s like living completely single with no one to worry about. You got your own place, cook your own food, do your own laundry, pay your own bills, and work hard for the money you earn. It’s nice not having anyone to answer to, especially when most of your boyfriends were needier than you.

Which brings you right back to Gwen and Steven. She really needs a night away from him and his family, and you have just the thing to tempt her with. With your phone in your left hand, you sit up and position the bubbles to cover half of your breasts. Your hair is in a messy bun, and you make sure to position yourself for maximum sexiness. You open up Snapchat and type her name into the search bar since you just got a new account and haven’t remembered to get everyone’s name.

Your old one got hacked and stalked, so you deleted it and made a new one. This account is only for friends and family, but you know Gwen’s name by heart. After putting in her name, you took a sexy picture of yourself. Once you liked how it looked, you sink back down into the water and type, “you don’t know what you’re missing ;)” and send it off.

She’s going to open it and see it and feel obligated to join you. Your bath is big enough for two people, and it’s not like you two haven’t seen each other naked before. This gets the awkwardness out of the way and leaves room for awesomeness. Almost immediately, your phone chimes, and you look to see a snapchat notification from her. You open it, and your eyes pop out of your head in shock.

In your relaxed state, you must have typed her name wrong because what you just opened is not her or Steven or his family… it’s a very attractive man with whiskey brown eyes, curly brown hair, and a jawline that just won’t quit. You have no clue who this man is, and you feel yourself heating up from embarrassment. You read what he wrote on his picture, and suddenly, you’re heating up from something different now.

i’d like to know because damn, i wasn’t expecting that.

What do you say to that? Do you just ignore him and message Gwen like nothing happened? Do you message him back and see where this thing goes? Gwen’s voice is hanging in the back of your mind just screaming, “Go for it! He’s so handsome and you’re single!”. You’ve been single for so long, that maybe it’s time to jump back into relationships now. No, no, wait a second. You don’t have to date the man. Just see where this leads to, and if it’s either of your beds, then so be it. Just be casual about it. Your inner voice calms you down, and you open up the chat section with his name and just start typing.

I didn't mean for that to go to you. It was meant for my friend, but… do you like what you see? ;)

i wouldn’t have said what i said if i didn’t. it’s a shame those bubbles are covering you though.

Well, aren’t you bold?

i’m sorry, is this not okay? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. i don’t normally do things like this, but you’re very beautiful.

No, keep going, I like it. You know, this bathtub is big enough for two people, and I sure am lonely.

darling, i wish i can be there. i’m across the country from you right now, but i like your energy. save it, and in two weeks, i’ll be back home.

How do you know where I live?

your location is on.

I knew that.

i’m sure you did. i’m matthew, and bathtub or not, i would really like to get to know you.

Well, then, in two weeks, you can. My location will be on, you’ll know where I am.

do i get to put a name to the face i saw?

Y/N.

well, y/n, i’ll see you in two weeks then.

Yes, you will.

You don’t normally do things like this, but you can’t get his face out of your mind. He would know if you screenshotted his snap, and you didn’t want to creep him out like that, so you just left it alone. It’s okay because his face has been imprinted on your brain until you get to see the real thing. He could be someone else for all you know and just used someone else’s picture, but you pray to God that’s not the case. You’ll take safety precautions to make sure he is who he says he is, and if he is, then you’re going to have a hard time keeping your hands off him.

He looks familiar though, and you rack your brain to try and remember where you’ve seen him. You would remember meeting him somewhere else, so it must have been a movie or a film. Is he an actor? You pull up Google and type in his name along with a description of what he looks like. It’s a long shot, but you go to images with the hope that he’s on there.

It’s endless scrolling, and it’s mostly just models and famous celebrities that cover your phone’s screen until you get to what you’re looking for. Holy shit, you found him. Holy shit, he’s on Dollface, 68 Kill, and Suburban Gothic. Holy shit this is Matthew Gray Gubler! You just fucking messaged Matthew Gray Gubler.

The loudest possible scream escaped your mouth, and you kicked at the water excitedly. It splashed over the edge, but you didn’t care because you talked to Matthew Gray Gubler. You’re getting out your excitement now so when you meet him, you’re cool and collected. You can’t wait to tell Gwen this since she’s a big Criminal Minds fanatic.

Best. Mistake. Of. Your. Life.

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[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 02. the mattress

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: Weeks have gone by and Elodie bumps into a certain someone at a cafe.

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

Chapter warnings: Nightmares, monsters under the bed, stuff like that.

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night’s sleep - E. Joseph Cossman

■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

Rowan Rancher has been incarcerated for up to three weeks now and in those three weeks my nightmares have become more frequent. More daunting. Everywhere I go, I suspect he’s there. Rowan Rancher watching me, but according to mister Rossi—who does daily check ins again, almost like I’m seventeen still—he’s incarcerated and will remain incarcerated. 

I don’t have to worry about him.

With a book in tow, I settle down at the cafe. Not the Starbucks, because I solely use that place for coffee to go. This is the place I go to for some reading. It’s never too loud here, yet there is enough background noise for me to realize I’m not alone. 

‘The name cappuccino comes from the Capuchin friars.’

That can only be one person. I smile when I look up and see it’s Spencer, wearing a sweater vest over a blouse, his bag pressed against his stomach while his fingers are wrapped around the strap. For a second or two I’m staring at the veins in his hands, the long fingers and the disgusting scenarios that creates in my brain.

I’ve been reading too much smut lately.

‘Hi there,’ I say. ‘Did you order a cappuccino too?’

‘No, I personally drink my coffee as an americano.’ He doesn’t ask if he can sit down with me. Instead, he just plops down, placing his bag near his feet. ’The drink consists of a single shot of espresso brewed with added water. Caffè Americano specifically is Italian for American coffee. According to a popular belief, the name has its origins in World War II, when American G.I.s in Italy diluted espresso with hot water to approximate the coffee to which they were accustomed to back in the USA.’

‘Hence the name Americano.’

‘Exactly.’ The smile on Spencer’s face causes me to mimic him. His enthusiasm is so infectious. When I spend my days at Quantico for the manhunt of my father, the moments where he rambled on, info dumping whenever he could made the time there bearable. 

I am grateful that Spencer was able to look passed me being Elodie Rowan Rancher. He just saw me as Elodie.

‘What brings you here?’

‘It’s my day off,’ Spencer tells me, ‘and I was actually planning on watching a new documentary at the movie theater. It’s about the influence of trade interactions on the cultures of Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt.’

‘I see,’ I say. ‘Sounds,’—horrendously dull—‘interesting.’

‘We could see the movie together. It’s said that they use Ancient Greek for certain texts, however I can translate that for you.’

Who has the heart to say no to something so endearing? I honestly would rather gauge my eyes out, than going to that documentary voluntarily, however spending time with the Spencer Reid? 

’When does it play?’

‘In three hours and four minutes.’

‘So… I can finish my cappuccino?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact—’ 

‘One americano,’ the barista interrupts us with a smile, ‘for the doctor.’

‘Thank you.’ He grabs the little packet of sugar, before he empties it completely in the americano. I place mine on his tray as well and with a gracious smile he empties that one too. ‘When Rossi and I came by your house, you said you listened to my seminars. Why?’

‘They help me sleep,’ I say. ‘There’s something about the way you talk that’s soothing. It’s not that you’re boring me, but… There something in the speed and tone that calms my brain and my nerves.’

Spencer takes in the information I provided him with. ‘Nightmares?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve got them too.’

And he’s telling the truth. 

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee and I lean back in the chair. ‘Is that why you have a mattress instead of a bed frame?’

For a few moments I want to be gobsmacked, because how did he know, however I realize he’s a profiler. He saw right over my tiny frame when I invited them in my house. 

‘Yeah.’

He wants to say something, but his phone chimes and he looks at the screen. ‘I’ve gotta go.’ He takes two large sips of his coffee and says: ‘We have a case.’

‘Okay.’

He rummages through his bag and places a neat little card in front of me on the table. ’This is my phone number. If you ever want to call, don’t hesitate to dial the number.’

‘Oh,’ I say, ‘that’s sweet.’

‘If my seminars help you sleep,’ he continues, ‘I can provide you with tons of other information, maybe things that are more up your alley.’

It’s so incredibly sweet, my heart swells twice its size. ‘I’ll keep it in mind, Spencer. Thank you.’

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Them

‘Pretty boy,’ Derek says, causing Spencer to look up from his phone as they make their way to the precinct in New York City, ‘what is it that has gotten your attention?’

Spencer pushes the little device back in his pocket and says: ‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘It’s not a lie. Nothing happens on my phone and that has gotten my attention,’ Spencer says. He opens his mouth, but Derek is faster.

‘Is it a girl?’

Sometimes he detests working with profilers. ‘Yes.’

‘Who is it? Where did you meet her?’

‘It’s Elodie. I gave her my number back in the cafe this morning.’

‘Elodie? The daughter of Rancher?’ Derek nods, taking in the information Spencer’s providing him with. ‘You like her?’

‘I’ve possibly taken an interest in her.’

Derek chuckles. ‘Look at that, genius got a crush.’

‘Not necessarily a crush, it’s more of a—’ Spencer starts, however Derek already speeds up and makes his way into the police office. 

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

Me: Can I give you a call? Elodie

Two whole minutes have passed by, before his name appears on my screen. Spencer Reid. A whole day and afternoon has gone by since he gave me his number and because I knew he was going to work on a case, I decided to withhold myself from immediately calling.

I pick up. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ His tone is soothing, soft in almost a marshmallow way.

‘Where are you?’

‘On the jet,’ he says. ‘We solved the case.’ Before I can ask how it went, he asks: ‘How are you?’

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘It’s nine where you are, correct?’

I feel like he knows exactly what time it is here and for the rest of the world for that matter, but formulates it like a question for me. ‘Correct.’

‘Why can’t you sleep?’ Spencer asks.

‘That just happens. Some nights I can, some nights I can’t.’ We don’t exchange a word for approximately five seconds, before I say: ‘It was my father’s idea. Mattresses on the floor instead of bed frames.’

‘How so?’

‘When my mom left, I was always afraid. When she was still with me, she’d sleep in my bed, protect me from the monsters, but then she wasn’t there and to me it felt like there was a hotbed underneath me for monsters. Finally, I told my father about it and… That night he slept in my bed and the next morning he broke apart all our bed frames, threw them out and said we only need mattresses anyway.’

‘I see,’ Spencer says. ‘And now you can’t sleep in a bed with a bed frame.’

‘Exactly. It’s irrational, I know. I’m twenty five, I should be able to sleep in a bed, like a true adult.’

‘Or,’ he says, ‘you can sleep in a bed with a bed frame when you’re not alone. Your mind has linked sleeping next to someone else to safety and considering you live by yourself and I assume sleep by yourself, you fall back to something you knew kept you safe when you were a child, even if you do it unknowingly. Because you listen to seminars to fall asleep, you create almost a false security that someone is there with you.’

I smile. ‘I guess I do.’

‘Do you feel safe now, Elodie?’

I close my eyes, only to see complete darkness. No bodies, no blood, no screams, no hushed whispers of my father telling me to just do it. To just mark them. It’s just peace and quiet. Just me and him. ‘Yes, Spencer,’ I whisper. ‘I feel safe now.’

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 01. jailbreak

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: When serial killer Rowan Rancher escaped from prison, it's up to the BAU to not only find him, but also his daughter.

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

Chapter warnings: Mention of murder and blood. Indirect mention of rape. Just a murderer in general already.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: So, believe it or not, but I am not a genius 🤷🏽‍♀️ So everything Spencer says is either literally copy paste from Wikipedia or I attempted to do math and calculate shit myself. So I hope you like 😘

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were - Marcel Proust

■□■□■□■□■□■

Them

‘We’ve got a situation,’ agent Aaron Hotchner, unit chief of the Quantico’s Behavioral Analysis unit, says to his team, as they’ve all gathered for this case. ‘Rowan Rancher has escaped the prison facility in Texas.’

‘Rowan Rancher murdered twenty four women aged twenty seven to forty one—that we know of—over the course of seven years. His preference was for brunettes with blue eyes, which is a clear resemblance of his mother Megan Rancher. However, victim number twenty five was a man named Wendall Regal. It was actually the first murder he confessed after he was arrested and it was the only murder he didn’t deny.’ Spencer Reid’s eyes go through the file, absorbing the information he practically knew by heart already. ‘Rowan Rancher had a daughter. Rossi, weren’t you the one who interrogated her?’

SSA David Rossi leans back in his chair, looking at one of the pictures in the files. It was a graduation picture of Elodie Rancher, the daughter of Rowan Rancher. ‘I was,’ he answers. ‘She led us to the fifteen burial sites.’

Rossi remembers the pain and hurt he saw in the eyes of Elodie, a fragile seventeen year old, completely damaged by her serial killer father. Because Rowan and Elodie traveled a lot, the burial sites were scattered over the country. Some in Nevada, others in California, a few in Florida, one in Hawaii, more in Maine and the remaining ones in the Washington state, where Rancher finally was caught.

‘I helped her with a new identity,’ Rossi continues, ‘gave her a bit of a boost to start her life. Therapy, more counseling and eventually she stopped updating me I assumed it went well.’

‘Elodie Rancher now goes by Elodie Price,’ tech savvy Penelope Garcia says, pulling a newer picture of Elodie on the screen. She lost the innocent look, the deep dark circles under her eyes and the sunken cheeks. She grew her hair out, the shoulder length waves made way for long luscious locks of black hair. A septum piercing, a few hints of tattoos. While back when she still lived with Rowan Rancher she had almost a girly and angelic aura, she now looks tougher.

Broken.

‘Where do we think Rowan Rancher went?’ JJ asks. ‘Because judging from the enormous amounts of deranged fan mail this man receives, he has plenty of places to hide.’

Rossi shakes his head. ‘No, there was only one thing that set this man off. That made him irritable and that was the absence of his daughter. He’ll use the women who sent him those fan mails and were stupid enough to put their addresses on it to get him closer to who he truly wants.’

‘Elodie Price,’ Derek notes. ‘Baby girl, is she on a lot of social media?’

‘Nope,’ Garcia says. ’She has a tiny social media footprint. The only times facial rec got a hit was because she was partially in a picture of someone else, but this girl is practically a ghost.’

‘Where does she currently live?’ Emily Prentiss asks.

‘Right here in Quantico,’ Garcia answers. ‘She works from home as a translator. English to Dutch and vice versa.’

‘Dutch is a West Germanic language spoken by approximately twenty five million people as a first language and five million as a second language. Actually it’s one of the closest relatives of both German and English and, like the English language, hasn’t undergone the High German consonant shift, therefore it doesn’t use the Germanic umlaut, has largely abandoned the use of the subjunctive and has leveled much of its morphology, including most of its case system.’

While Spencer takes a deep breath to continue, agent Hotchner figures it’s the best moment to divide tasks. ‘I want Prentiss and JJ on the jet to Texas, to help out the local police departments and prison employees to communicate with the public. Rossi and Reid, go pay Elodie Price a visit. Morgan, you and I will stay here and set up a task force in order to locate Rowan Rancher. Garcia?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘I want you to try and trace Rancher’s steps. I want an exact step by step track record of when he escaped, his route and where he can possibly reside.’

■□■□■□■□■□■

Her

Sometimes I am not too sure whether or not my ability to spot lies from miles away is a blessing or a curse. I’m one hundred percent certain the Starbucks barista who just wished me a nice day, rather wished me and every customer prior and after me would get hit by a bus. The slight tension in her jaw, the dark eyes.

She is not in an excellent mood.

With my Chai Latte with a pump of caramel, I make my way back to my place. I barely leave the safe walls of my apartment and when I do leave, it’s to do groceries, grab a coffee and go to the local independent bookstores. 

My life is simple and simple is all I need.

Once back home in my studio apartment, I sit down at my dinner table that serves as my work space for the next upcoming three hours. I’ve finished a lot of my work already, meaning I can either work ahead or call it a day.

Becoming a translator is honestly not the job I thought I’d do for the rest of my life, but translating technical manuals, school texts books and other boring things requires very little interaction with others and for now, that is what I need. 

The fear of someone recognizing me as Elodie Rancher is a fear I assume I will carry with me till the day I die. 

Three knocks on my door and I stretch out my neck, as if that enhances my hearing. Thinking it’s my senile neighbor Dolores again, I stand up and look through the peephole, before deciding if I’ll be home to deal with her antics again.

But it’s not Dolores. It’s someone else.

Two people. Men. And they both look familiar.

When I open the door, I see David Rossi standing there, the man who helped me gain footing again after my father was arrested back in Washington. ‘Mister Rossi,’ I manage to choke out. 

‘Elodie,’ he says, ‘how are you doing?’

All of the sudden, I am seventeen again. Traumatized, fearful and not too sure what to do with my life. ‘Something happened,’ I conclude, not answering the question. ‘Something involving my father.’

David Rossi lets out a deep sigh. ‘Elodie, can we come in?’

I take a step to the side, letting David Rossi and the man next to him inside. He’s tall—like, a lot taller than to my below average height—and says: ‘I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I listen to your seminars sometimes.’

That piques his interest. ‘Seriously?’

’Yeah,’ I answer, closing the door behind him. Seeing these agents standing in my living room, causes me to nearly shake with anxiety. ‘What happened?’

‘Rowan Rancher has escaped prison.’

Five words, but they are enough to knock all air out of my lungs. My father escaped prison? He’s been incarcerated for eight years, how on earth did he manage to do that? My father is smart, no doubt, but escapism appeared to be something that was part of fiction.

Not reality.

‘Oh,’ is the intelligent answer I manage to muster up. 

‘We have reason to believe that you are in possible danger if he figures out where you are,’ David Rossi continues, ‘therefore we want to offer you a deal.’

‘Okay?’

‘You help us with an eventual profile, tracking his steps, since you are truly the only one who knows him better than anyone. We’ll make sure you are in safe hands, always flanked by an agent.’

Deep down I want to say no. I don’t want protection, but knowing the lengths my father goes through to finish what he started, I have to help them.

Otherwise the Rowan Rancher victim count will only increase again.

■□■□■□■□■□■

‘The Maluku Islands are an archipelago in the eastern part of Indonesia. Geographically they are located east of Sulawesi, west of New Guinea and north and east of Timor. The islands have been considered a geographical and cultural intersection of Asia and Oceania. Actually—fun fact—the islands were known as the Spice Islands, because of the nutmeg, mace and cloves that were exclusively found there.’

Believe it or not, I didn’t ask for this explanation about the Maluku Islands. However, when I said to Spencer Reid my mother was a Moluccan woman born in The Netherlands, it ignited something in him to tell me all about my heritage. 

But honestly I am not complaining about said history lesson. While I told the doctor I sometimes listen to his seminars, little does anyone know I actually listen to his seminars to go to sleep. The tidal waves of information that rolls from his tongue in a fast pace, causes me to dive into a deep night sleep. Not because I’m bored, but because I’m calmed down.

‘Sorry, Elodie,’ the man who introduced himself as Derek Morgan says, ‘there isn’t an off switch on this kid.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘No need to turn him off.’

Back at the Quantico headquarters, I’m quickly adopted by their technical analyst Penelope Garcia, under the close supervision of David Rossi. I’m staring at the last picture of my father, one pulled from security footage ten miles away from the prison. Ever since that moment, it almost appears like he’s a ghost. Evaporated into thin air. 

‘It had been my father and I since I was five,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for the other two to hear me. ’My mother ran off, unable to live with Rowan, because of his personality.’

Penelope turns to me. ‘And she just left you there?’

‘Yeah. When… When mister Rossi reached out to her after my father was caught, she hung up the phone after telling him I was doomed to fail anyway. She now lives in Australia, has three kids and is the stepmom of a girl who was my age. Who apparently wasn’t doomed to fail.’

Penelope places her hand on my shoulder and whispers: ‘I’m sorry.’

I quickly push aside the thoughts, before I tell them I have to use the restroom. Once done there, I walk passed the bullpen, witnessing Spencer bowed over a map. I push open the door and walk up to him. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘According to the traceable steps of Rowan Rancher pulled by Garcia, it occurred to me that he travels predominantly east.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That’s what he always said to me. When in doubt, go east. No idea why, but he just said that.’

‘It is essentially what you did,’ Spencer says. ‘Going from Washington state to Wyoming, then Iowa and then settling in Virginia, is traveling east.’ Spencer continues on to tell me about the landmarks Rowan Rancher will encounter when he continues to travel east, however I say: ‘He met my mother in Columbus, Ohio.’

When David Rossi first found me, I barely could muster up the energy nor the memories to tell him this information. Instead of talking about it, I pushed it down. My mother wasn’t a USA citizen and considering she at first was practically untraceable and then made it very clear she didn’t want to talk about Rowan Rancher, every bit of information about him came back to me. 

But I was useless when I was seventeen.

I will not make the same mistake at the tender age of twenty five.

‘They met at the botanical gardens, if I remember correctly,’ I say.

Compared to Spencer Reid, my memory was severely lacking. 

‘The Franklin Park Conservatory and Botanical Gardens,’ he recites. 

’Yeah, somewhere near the Pacific Island part.’

‘Pacific Island Water Garden.’

‘I think so.’

Spencer Reid tilts his head. ‘We don’t know why exactly Rowan Rancher escaped. In the time he was incarcerated, he only received fanmail, had zero visitors and doesn’t interact with fellow prisoners.’

‘He escaped because he thinks he didn’t do anything wrong,’ I say. ‘Murdering Wendall Regal was different, but according to the way he would think, I only assume he’d think his sentence is done with the eight years.’

I did it for you, baby. No man can do what he did to you. Shivers run down my spine as I hear my father’s voice, covered in the blood of Wendall Regal.

‘I think he just wants to retrace the steps of happiness. When he met my mother, I guess he was happy. When I was born in Miami, Florida during a storm in a hotel room, I guess he was happy.’

‘Can you tell me all the places where you remember your father was happy?’ Spencer asks.

And all I can do is nod, before I go back deep into my memory, hopefully able to help the people catch my father. 

■□■□■□■□■□■

Five days. It took them five days and one female victim before they caught my dad in Miami Florida, near the same hotel I was born. The female victim was one of his fans, one of the people who was stupid enough to write down her address on the fan mail, instead of a post office box. She wasn’t my father’s normal type—this woman was fifty years old, had died red hair and had brown eyes—but she also wasn’t murdered in a manner it would be recognized to be murdered by my father. 

The only thing that gave away what he did, was the ERR carved in her skin. Elodie Rowan Rancher. My real name. The name he gave to me. It was him who named me Elodie. It was him who insisted on having a middle name identical to his own name. It was him who laughed at my mom for possibly thinking it would be okay I was gonna have my mom’s surname. 

ERR.

I sometimes think he killed because of me. I wondered what I did to make him do that.

My time here at the BAU has come to an end. After saying my goodbyes to everyone, together with Spencer I step into the elevator. I accidentally told him how the 1994 movie Speed with Keanu Reeves is my favorite movie.

‘The movie premiered in Hollywood on June 7th 1994, only to be released to the rest of the United States three days later. It became critically and commercially successful and the fifth-highest-grossing movie of 1994.’

‘It won two Academy Awards,’ I interject. ‘For Best Sound Effects Editing and Best Sound.’

Spencer turns to the side, a wide smile toying on his lips. Those puppy eyes nearly glimmer, almost like he’s delighted that I’m adding information to it. ‘Exactly. The sequel Speed 2: Cruise Control was actually nominated for eight Golden Raspberry Awards, winning the Worst Remake or Sequel category. The Golden Raspberry Awards is a parody award show honoring the worst of cinematic failures. They say it’s due to the absence of Keanu Reeves, who decided not to reprise his role as Jack Traven.’

‘Who is the most awarded actor?’ I ask. ‘Of those awards?’

‘Sylvester Stallone. He was nominated thirty three times and won eleven Golden Raspberry Awards.’

The way to my place is filled with these types of conversations. Including Spencer Reid reciting a good ten minutes of the movie Speed. I knew his brain was mesmerizing, but there is something so endearing about seeing it in real life.

Once we’re standing in front of my door, I say: ‘Thank you, for making these odd couple of days bearable.’

‘Five days,’ he says, because he simply can’t help himself. 

‘Five days,’ I repeat. I open the door of my place and say: ‘Thank you, Spencer.’

‘Thank you for your help. Thanks to you I could make a clear geographical map of important places for Rancher, meaning I could better pinpoint the spots he could be, thanks to Garcia’s sightings. Also, thank you for identifying the mark on the victim.’

‘Of course,’ I say, clenching my jaw, trying to push it down. ‘Well, you should go home. It’s been a rough few days.’

‘Actually, the best time for me to go to bed is either at eight in the evening or eleven. Considering it’s nine fifteen now, I have to wait one hour and forty-five minutes before I can fall asleep. However, it still is a thirty minute commute back to my place and if all goes well, I’ve got enough time to read the entire Harry Potter series and the first book of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I could then read approximately eighty percent of book two, the Two Towers.’

‘Right,’ I say, my head spinning a little because of this load of information. ‘Well, you better get going then.’

He smiles. ‘Yeah, I should.’ He awkwardly holds up his hand. ‘Bye.’

And I watch Spencer clutching onto his bag, making his way to the elevator and for the first time in a long time, I feel a smile on my face.

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 00. preview

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: Get to know the three main characters of this story!

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

A/N: Soooo, I did a thing... I wrote a Spencer Reid fic. Oops

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

elodie price ⊡ 25 years old ⊡ formerly known as elodie rowan rancher ⊡ daughter of serial killer rowan rancher ⊡ translator ⊡ drinks coffee ⊡ solely reads romance books (preferably with smut, because why not) ⊡ half moluccan half american ⊡ tattoos and piercings are her thing ⊡

spencer reid ⊡ 30 years old ⊡ an absolute genius ⊡ reads ridiculously fast ⊡ iq of 187 ⊡ infodumps a lot ⊡ doesn't necessarily like romance, but will read it eventually for the right girl (because let's face it, it'll take him an five minutes) ⊡

rowan rancher ⊡ serial killer ⊡ imprisoned for life ⊡ has a clear signature for each killings ⊡ has a type to kill ⊡ but loves only one person more than he loves himself and that is his daughter

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[z3ld4]

Mercy Me - Part One

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Angsty? Mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, death, kidnapping, is catholic guilt a warning? culty vibes, mentions of torture, and a very small mention of rape and gouging one’s eyes out.

Word Count: 1.3k (its a babey for the first part)

A/N: this is one of my first fanfictions on tumblr and in this fandom, so idk be nice or like really mean, criticize me, i don’t really mind. i used to write aphmau fanfiction nothing really hurts at this point. also this is an original female character fic because i for real can not write fic in the y/n format and i’ve had this idea for a while. it took a lot of effort to post this without puking in anxiety first but i hope it goes well ig.

If Jacqueline was going to die right then and there, she would have frankly been pissed. Sitting in the bathtub with blood seeping out of shallow cuts on her thighs would not be a great way to go. It’s especially stupid because they weren’t even new. Jacqueline knew better than to cut in the tub.

Especially since she’d been clean before the incident.

She wondered if that was the time to back up and take a second to think. Think about her wrongdoings.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t give her the release of death and instead shot himself in the neck. Her eyes, always the worst part of her body, follow the arterial spray as it stains the yellowing ceilings. She almost wants to take the revolver and shoot herself in the head, but that would contaminate the crime scene.

Jacqueline is smarter than that. But the revolver is so close to her. Yet just out of reach. 

Everything seems to be just out of reach when you’re kidnapped. 

But everything is moot compared to the digging feeling in her stomach telling her that the gun still has five more rounds. 

She doesn’t. Of course, there is more to her life than being a martyr for another’s sins. That isn’t what Father Julien said when she was younger, but Father Julian also tried to gouge out her eyes in the town square.

Father Julian did a lot of things, talking about the grace of God wasn’t one of them. But what can you really expect from a man that creates a psychopath? Jacqueline dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, creating swirling patterns behind her eyelids. Phosphenes. She can hear him say it. Spencer always made sure to tell her the weirdest facts he could remember. She can’t remember most of them but sometimes his voice pops up in her head reminding her of them.

A lot of things pop up in Jacqueline’s head these days. She smoothed her hair back with the water on her hands and stepped awkwardly out of the tub. Taking two towels from the rack on the wall, she wrapped up her hair and body. Carefully stepping around Gabriel’s body and blood pool she enters the bedroom. For a cheap motel, it was quite clean. Frankly, it wouldn’t be half bad if the carpet wasn’t a brown color and she didn’t come with the guy who kidnapped her. She dug through Gabriel’s luggage until she found yet another, white cotton sundress. It wasn’t a bad dress, quite pretty in reality. It was the situation that made it the ugliest rag Jacqueline had ever seen. It fell to just below her knees and the bodice fit her waist perfectly, the spaghetti straps dug into her shoulders but it could have been much, much worse. 

Jacqueline would have liked the dress in another life. However, Gabriel had a thing for the whole ‘white equals purity’ thing and tortured her in a dress similar to the one she was putting on.

She stopped putting the dress on. Blinking through the tears forming in her line of sight, Jacqueline searches for a shirt and a pair of pants that could maybe fit her. She found Gabriel’s taupe button-up and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the front up to the third button. After digging a little more she finds a pair of army green pants, a little too high waisted for such a masculine man but she puts them on. Luckily Gabriel also had a pair of hiking boots which Jacqueline took the shoelace out of and used it as a belt.

The sandals that she wore when out with Gabriel would have to do, though it looked a little silly. Jacqueline took her hair out of the towel and ruffled it up a little, she always hated leaving her thick, wavy hair without product in it but it’s better than brushing it. The bangs brushing against the bridge of her nose are going to make her cry though. She used to hate how she looked in bangs but now, with Gabriel’s praises ringing in her ears, she almost likes the way they frame her face.

Almost.

Jacqueline grabbed Gabriel’s wallet on the way out of their hotel room.

The secretary looked at Jacqueline funny as she checked out. Granted, it was well deserved, Jacqueline looked like a mess of men’s clothing. She also was leaving without Gabriel, which sounded a little unheard of considering he didn’t even let her speak when they checked in.

Jacqueline wanted to call the police so the maid didn’t get a nasty surprise. She didn’t have a phone on her but she walked to the payphone on the street corner and quickly called 911. 

“Hi, Hello. Y-yes… I… I need to report a suicide at Maple Leaf Motel, room 3C. My… My p-partner shot himself in the neck!” She wailed into the phone before hanging up. She was always good at faking things. Right now, faking composure seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Time to catch a flight to Quantico, Virginia.

Or, more likely, hitchhike. If there was anything Jacqueline had learned in her nine years with the BAU is to not hitchhike. But she had about two hundred and fifty dollars and the clothes on her back. And if anything she could pay for some gas and maybe use the self-defense that Morgan taught her. She knew that from where she was it would be around twenty days by foot. A twenty-hour car ride. And maybe a five-hour flight depending on the airport. The closest 'big' town near Maple Leaf was Lexington. 

And deep down, Jacqueline really wanted to take a road trip. Nebraska is quite a pretty state. Though walking would be a little excessive considering she's technically been off for two months already.

The fact that she’d been with Gabriel for two months sent shivers down Jacqueline’s spine. The bureau wouldn't take her vacation days away for being kidnapped but you never really know with the government, do you? She started walking to the library when she realized that she could email Strauss and talk about her job and how fast she can be reinstated. Luckily the library was a few blocks down the street.

"Hello, dear! What can I help you with today?" The elderly woman behind the help desk smiled. Jacqueline figured that they didn't get that many people inside the small library. 

Jacqueline forced a smile and walked up to the desk, "Can I use one of the computers? I need to email my boss about my... vacation."

The librarian gives Jacqueline a sugary sweet smile. "May I, Deary," The librarian corrected.

"Right," Jacqueline drawls. The librarian walked her to a clunky old computer and logged on before shoving Jacqueline down into the seat. Jacqueline goes through google to find her email service and quickly write one to Strauss. Strauss responded quickly, a short email reading:

Dear Agent Laymore,

You're thought to be dead. I can not grant you the ability to step into your building for recertification and discussions of reinstating you until you prove otherwise.

Erin Strauss

Jacqueline responded:

Dear Erin,

You're supposed to be nicer to people who are held as a hostage. Anyways, I guess a way to prove my identity would be that I can sing 'On My Own' from Les Mis perfectly, I know you have heard me do it. And that your husband divorced you after he gave you half of his liver due to your liver cirrhosis. You told me this one night when I was crying over my brother killing himself and getting disowned. I am the only person on the current team (I assume, though I'm sure Rossi knows ;D) who has that information on you.

With love,

Dr. Jacqueline Laymore PsyD

Ps. Please don't give my job away because I made a joke.

Erin responded with a very annoyed emailing detailing what they will discuss once Jacqueline reaches Quantico. With a valid ID of course.

Now the hard part, finding someone who wasn't a serial killer to hitchhike with. For at least twenty-four hours. In a car.

Spencer's voice called out in the back of Jacqueline's head, reminding her that there is a 0.0000086% of being killed or raped while hitchhiking.

[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

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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.

[thekatherinewinchester]

Accidental Snap Masterlist

Summary: Snapchat notified me that I had a new snap. Not paying attention to the details of the notification I swiped to open the app. The person in the picture looking at me was not my best friend. Somehow, I managed to send a stranger my bathtub selfie. Not just any random stranger, oh no, I know of this person all too well, but he has no idea I even exist. Well, not anymore it would seem. I don’t understand how I could possibly send Matthew Gray Gubler a fucking snapchat picture. My ability to fathom shit has done gone and broke. 

Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler, Katherine Morgan (OFC), Mattie Gunther (OFC; mentioned)

Pairing(s): MGG x OFC!Katherine Morgan

Word Count: TBD

Parts: 2

Warnings: sexting, dirty talk, sending nudes via social media, daddy kink, sex via facetime, long distance relationship, soft sex

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CLAIM ANY OWNER SHIP OVER MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER. I HIGHLY DOUBT MGG HAS A SNAPCHAT BUT FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC, HE DOES. 

PART 1 - POSTED ON 1MAY 2020

PART 2 - POSTED ON TBP