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easy-there-leftovers · 11 months ago

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As Cool As I Think I Am

Summary: The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care.

Alternatively; Spencer never thought he was cool, but he found himself wanting to be just for you.

[a/n] Recommended to be read after, "A Question Unasked", and is a roundabout sequel to "Mixed Messages."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, s1e06, s1e08, s1e10, and s1e18 | description of canon-typical violence, timeframe switches because I can, and Spencer being an oblivious, lovesick idiot (can't believe this version of him survived all of this lol) | word count: 7.2k

Amazing. You had called him, “amazing” during the Arizona case and that was all that had been occupying his mind as of late. He had been called brilliant before. Been described as bright, gifted, hell, he was called a genius even. Yet that was the first time anyone had said anything positive about him.

Removed from his intellectual capabilities.

It made him think that there was more that he could offer than just his never-ending stream of knowledge and incessant rambling.

You had seen that in him.

Seen that he was 'amazing.'

But he certainly wasn’t feeling that way now.

“On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Spencer nodded as he listened.

"One: Front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: Controlled trigger press. Three: Follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?”

He sighs with his eyes closed. “I didn't follow through.”

“Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.”

Hotch had been observing him for the past few minutes to prepare him for his assessment tomorrow, and yet it still felt like he was making no discernable progress.

He had memorized every trick, every form, every physics interplay that could better the ballistics of his shot and yet he still couldn't do it.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." He had said, putting the gun down.

He feels his unit chief gently push him aside to demonstrate and he gets in position.

"Front sight," He aims his gun.

"Trigger press," He presses down on the trigger, resulting in a gunshot to the target.

"Follow through." He finally says. Keeping his eyes forward with his finger still depressing the trigger until he holsters his gun again.

"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time." Spencer shakes his head.

He tries to replicate the steps again, but only fails miserably.

He has been doing that. He is doing that. And yet he still keeps missing.

If this wasn't part of his job, maybe he wouldn't have cared all too much about his gun proficiency. Or lack of.

And yet it was.

And it was imperative that he learned it to keep his place on the team, but he had been losing hope.

"They're going to take away my gun."

Sensing his frustration, Hotch empathizes with him.

"Profilers aren't required to carry." He groans at that.

"Yeah, but she does and she's great at it."

God, you must've thought he was pathetic.

Aaron laughs internally at that. He knows exactly who the younger one is talking about.

He had seen the way that Spencer had been watching his 'protege,' and it didn't take being a profiler to know that he was absolutely smitten. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Reid's frustrations stemmed from wanting to seem more experienced in front of you.

And Hotch saw no problem with that, at least for now. On the contrary, the two of you working together seemed to have bolstered his focus on the case. Making the team more efficient with their investigations.

He also thinks that it helped because you seemed to return Reid's sentiment, which is why he had brought you along to help him.

So when Spencer turns and sees you walk in, he blanches.

As much as he really liked your presence (you were friends, right?), he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

He does that more than enough on his own.

But it seemed like your mentor didn't care.

Hotch says your name with a greeting before excusing himself which tells Spencer that he had planned this from the start. He sighs at that. Chest feeling heavy at the pressure.

He sees you give him a polite smile, which he's come to recognize to be your way of easing him, and he returns it.

"I've heard about your progress." Spencer rolls his eyes at that.

"More like regress. I'm sorry that you have to be here." You snort at his joke but shake your head to assure him.

"I'm right where I want to be. "

His heart fills, even though he knows that not what you meant.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me how you fire that gun?"

He nods and waits for you to put on your ear muffs and goggles before he returns to his position. Calming himself down as he remembers Hotch's words.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

He fires three bullets and sees them all hit the whites of the target, which makes him sigh for the umpteenth time.

He puts the gun down and lowers his ear muffs to look at you. Seemingly deep in thought, chin resting on your hand, with eyes travelling slowly up and down his form. Observing.

Scrutinizing.

Assessing.

He can't help but feel naked under your gaze.

He always knew you were smart. The cases you've helped solve were more than proof of just that, but he knew that even you couldn't solve the mystery that was his aim.

He couldn't expect that of you. He relies on you so often already.

He briefly wonders how there's such a different between you and him. You joined the same year, joined the same unit, and worked with the same people on the same cases. How was it that you seemed calmer, cooler, and more prepared for anything more than he ever was?

Spencer firmly believes that intelligence cannot be quantified. And if anyone ever doubted him, he would just point at you and say that you had him beat everywhere despite what any number might have to say otherwise.

Case and point. you had been talking to him about something very important and thoughtful and he had been zoning out the entire time.

"I um,–– what?"

You shake your head and gesture to his gun once more. "Show me your form again."

He takes his gun hesitantly, but readies himself the same way he did earlier. The only exception being that his finger isn't on the trigger.

He hears that telltale, almost bored, 'hm' of yours before you speak again.

"Tuck your chest in."

He's read countless firearm manuals and instructions and he's never heard of that before.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tuck your chest in." You say it again, but it's still not making sense to him.

Unable to voice or even act upon his confusion, he watches as you wait with an impassive face before asking,

"Can I touch you?" He lets out a shaky, but immediate 'yes' and you move to stand beside him.

Given your calm and nonchalant demeanor, he anticipates a more impersonal touch. For lack of a better word. He expects a shove. Maybe a push, to correct him into the right place.

So when your hand comes to softly rest on his stomach, fingers splaying across the expanse of his undefined abdominal muscles, he feels his breath hitch. Upper body slightly crumpling in on himself as he does.

He's surprised he hasn't dropped his gun.

"Dr. Reid,"

He's also surprised that his heart hasn't stopped. With how you said his name, and how close you are– he can already feel your soft breath gracing his ear–

"You're an autodidact, aren't you?"

A self-taught person, he thinks.

"I–– I am." Curse his shaky voice.

"You know, there are some things that can't be learned by just reading textbooks and looking at diagrams."

He feels you tap his stomach and he suddenly feels hot.

"Feel this?" He feels you engulfing his senses, that's for sure. But he nods slowly.

"Remember it. Your center of gravity is different from the subjects in those graphics. So the form you need to take is likewise different."

And just like that, all too quick for his liking, you move away. Hand leaving him just like whatever depraved thought might've been running around his head.

He hesitantly looks back at you, and you gesture to his gun again. Noticing how your free hand is resting on the gun in your holster.

A Glock 19, he remembers.

"Go ahead and shoot like that now."

He does, in the same way that he's compelled to follow your voice like always–

Front sight, trigger press, follow through.

And fires three shots.

To his surprise, he manages to shoot the target's chest. Not quite centered, he admits, but its a vast improvement from his previous attempts.

"I– I did it." He feels the disbelief on his face when he looks at you again. He's expecting you to look just as shocked as he does. After all, you saw just how egregious his aim was. So it surprises him when he turns and is greeted instead with the small smile on your face.

Not the same polite smile that you usually give when you're at work, no. It was a soft, genuine smile, or so he thinks.

"I never doubted your capabilities, Dr. Reid."

He beams under your praise. Blooming like a flower under the warm radiance of the Sun. Once again subject to that brain-freezing sensation from a few weeks ago.

If he just remembers everything you told him today, which wasn't a lot, he theoretically should pass his firearm qualifications with no problem.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll get to see you smile at him again.

After all, he had always wanted for you to look at him. Actually look at him.

Maybe if he passes his test this time, you will.

----

The following day, he doesn’t pass his test.

And he is much more embarrassed now than he ever was before.

He returns to the bullpen with his head down. Already expecting everyone to know of his failure.

He really didn't want to see if you were one of the ones that had been looking at him.

What he doesn't see is that you were.

But you weren't disappointed at all. You wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To tell him that you could always help him again, and that you didn't mind the extra work if it weren't for the stares that you had been getting back.

Seemingly turning your what-would've-been act of friendship and care into an expectation and responsibility.

"Make a wish!"

"Come on, man. Blow, baby, blow!"

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid."

"They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They–– They're going to come back on every time."

While Spencer is glad that he’s spending his birthday with actual people, there's one in particular that he's missing.

He also feels sort of embarrassed that he's having a full-on birthday at his workplace. Though he is very thankful that his friends care about him enough to do this.

"Hope you like chocolate." JJ says with a laugh and he is only now recognizing the cake. Previously too caught up in blowing out the undying flames to even notice the festive dessert that supported them.

"Where's the cake from?" The blonde only gives him a look that he can't quite understand, but he is immediately distracted when he feels a draft from where Hotch passes by him.

He looks in the direction he came from and lo and behold, he found the very person he was missing.

He gets up, wanting to at least get a greeting from you, but he's interrupted by Gideon asking him something before he can even try.

"You having fun?"

He knows that he's asking him, but he can also see how his eyes aren't quite addressing him back. Instead, looking up a few inches above him.

He gives a tight lip smile when he realizes just what he's looking at.

God, he felt pathetic.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.”

"Make a wish?" He asks another question and that’s when Spencer sees what he's doing now.

Ever since he first exhibited signs of interest in you, he knew that his mentor would be the first to clock them. He couldn't even hide it if he tried. If there was anyone on the team that he knew would figure it out this quick, it would've been him.

He expected it.

What he didn't expect was for Gideon to show disapproval for it.

For you.

Back during the Arizona case, he remembers how Gideon had interrupted you when you were explaining something. And that's when he realized you were going to have a hard time.

You were going to have a hard time because of his own rapidly growing interest.

Because he froze when you said one nice thing about him, then proceeded to wow him with your observational skills.

He didn't want Gideon to think that you were being a distraction to him, so he instead chose to show just how well the two of you had worked together. Even going as far as to double down and reiterate your statements to convince him of that.

And it seemed to have worked, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Can I take this hat off?"

He wanted nothing more than to do just that before you notice him, but his mentor just shook his head.

"I wouldn't."

He doesn't know it's because Gideon knew you found it cute.

By the time that he notices the elder doesn't really care about the conversation anymore, probably too distracted by the TV behind him, his gaze finally focuses on you.

The very person that he had intended to talk to.

The one he intended to talk the entire time before he got sidetracked.

You still hadn't turned to look at him though, or make an attempt to greet him. Not even a laugh to mock him for the huge, 'Happy Birthday' hat that sat on his head to make him look like a dunce!

Instead, you were staring at something. Or rather, someone.

He turns his head to look just where you were and there he sees his unit chief, your mentor, on the receiving end of your intense gaze.

Just like always.

He shakes his head and decides to just go talk to you, but he is once again interrupted. This time by Hotch with a solemn expression on his face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.”

You immediately spring into action at his words, completely missing his hand that was just about to come up to wave at you. He tightens his lips into a thin smile.

Spencer's starting to doubt Morgan and Elle's words.

–––––––––––––

The sentiment is rectified when he finally receives the one thing he had been looking forward to on his birthday, and it wasn't the gift.

Not even the greeting.

It was being able to be in your presence. Being able to spend time with you. The you that wasn't so stressed or strict about work, or the case, or your boss.

It was just him and you. You and him. And the scarf that seemed to warm him just as much as his heart warmed at the sight of your smiling face.

God, what he would do to have this with you forever.

Spencer is well aware that likes you.

Hell, even the rest of team knows it by now, but he's starting to fear that his unconscious mind is more aware of that than his conscious one.

Case and point, he had been having dreams.

Nightmares, actually.

Nightmares that he can't help but think will happen if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second.

Morgan had asked him earlier when he was making coffee if something was causing him to lose sleep. If you had been causing him to lose sleep, he had asked with a teasing smirk.

And while normally he would've flushed and stumbled at his implication that a night of you had been keeping him up, he admits to what's been plaguing his mind.

Naturally, he doesn't tell him the full nature of his night terrors. But his friend doesn't need him to. Not with the way that his eyes try to find yours every chance he gets, focus going in and out of the conversation like an adjusting lens.

Spencer fears that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon.

And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

He knows that it's not rational, but he also knows that dreams are rarely, if not never, rational. Studies show that around seventy to eighty-percent of dreams contain bizarre or irrational elements. This included unusual settings, impossible scenarios, and illogical developments to be featured in the unconscious brain.

Doesn't mean that he's alright with seeing it so often, though.

What's worse is that he knows that it can very much happen during the BAU cases. And that he can't even prepare himself for that scenario.

He's practically deadweight on the field with his still erratic aim and bambi legs, he's surprised you aren't sick of him yet.

He laughs a bit at the thought. Clutching a portion of his scarf—the only thing that has been keeping the nightmares at bay— as he promises himself that he won't leave your side.

Especially not in the confounding forest of McAllister, Virginia.

Which is why he's stuck in his current position.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ”

He doesn't know what exactly you found in the abandoned house, but he knew that it wasn't wise to leave you with no one but a high schooler.

You might think he's not all that different from the kid, but he's at least trained to be an FBI agent.

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.”

You looked dead into his eyes, yet he still didn't relent. No matter how reasonable your request was.

In any other situation, he might've thought you were cool. That you were handling the situation like a natural, and that you were very responsible for taking charge when he was there with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

But he didn't want to leave you. Not when you looked like you've just seen a ghost.

He grasped your shoulders, firmly but gently, and practically begged for you to come with him.

Stating that what you were feeling was a completely normal physiological response. That your body was sending neropinephrine to your brain to help regulate the stress and compensate for whatever was happening inside of you and that it would be safer to stay together––

But when he sees you ice him out– concealing all remaining traces of shock or fear or worry– he freezes.

His eyes raked across your features, biding his time. Committing every micro-reaction, every hair out of place, every faux-calm movement of your eyes before he had to let you go with a nod. Leaving hurriedly to find anyone that can help and constantly looking back at you to assure his consciousness that you were fine, and that you would be fine.

When he saw that the other sheriff wasn't there yet, much less anyone for that matter, he immediately went back. Running uphill fast to get to you.

To make sure that you were alright, that you were alive, and that no one was coming to hurt you.

Which is how he found himself here.

Gun held to his head by the very high schooler that, he thought, wouldn't have been of help if another dangerous person had shown up.

When you raised your hands and dropped your gun in surrender, he was scared of what would happen to you both if he didn't act quick.

But he was even more scared of what could happen to you if he doesn't talk his way out.

Fast.

So that's what he did.

––––––––––

He didn't get to check on you, he realizes.

He knew you were able to knock the kid out, he was there when he helped you distract him, but he must’ve been wheezing because he was the first one to get ushered out and checked on.

He wants to tell them to check on you. That you had landed pretty badly when the unsub was able to push you back, but he can hardly even hear his own thoughts.

The siren of the police car, the medic talking to him, the rest of the team discussing the case's outcome, and his own heart in his ears were simply too much for him.

By the time that things had settled down, he notices that you still aren't there with him. He worries and whips his head around wildly before his eyes find yours already looking at him.

Doing so with an expression of regret or grief etched onto your face.

He sighs in relief, and gives you the best smile he can give to assure you that he's okay despite having been worried sick.

He needed you to know that he was fine. That it wasn’t your fault. That he was glad you're okay too.

That he was so impressed with what you had done despite the circumstances, and that you had handled the situation way better than he knew anyone on the team ever could.

So when you seem to turn away from him, he briefly wonders if something was actually wrong.

He tries to look back on what might've happened. Wonders if there's something he didn't see when he came back, or when he was away––

And that's when he realizes something.

Could he have put you in more danger when he came back to check on you? That he had accidentally sabotaged your takedown?

He sighs. He must've looked so pathetic in front of you getting grabbed like that–– but he's not sorry.

He had been doing that for your safety and for his own peace of mind–– he wasn't going to apologize for caring about you.

He'll make it up to you somehow.

The next time you go on another case together, which you two inevitably will, he'll make it up to you.

That, he promises.

He actually doesn't get to work with you again. So he decides that he can make it up to you by narrowing down the unsub's identity.

In fact, he hasn't seen you at all since the team first arrived at the crime scene.

You had been working with Hotch and Morgan on more field operations, leaving him with Elle and Penelope doing background checks on possible suspects. And while he wasn't with you, he'd like to think that he's still enjoying the company.

Well, that's what he would like to think.

He has no problems working with Elle. She was a nice colleague that seemed to occasionally humor his rants and got the job done quickly. And Penelope was someone that the both of you really got along with. Occasionally having this back and forth unique to the three of you.

But they weren't you.

Still. What he thought about you can wait later. He still has to think about his escape route if the two break out into a fight.

Right now, the three of them had staked out one Michael Russo who they anticipated would call his hitman, the suspected Unsub. They were hoping to get a name from what they could pick up from his end of the call, and they did.

Problem was,

"Russo's got eleven associates named Vincent." Spencer raised his brows at that.

Vincent is a name of Latin origins. He shouldn't be surprised that the mob had a handful of people with that name, but it was kind of too on the nose at this point.

"Oh, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer. But here's something––Vincent Sartori."

He really wants to find this guy, so he chooses to keep looking through the list. Ignoring the growing tension between the two girls.

"Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering."

Spencer then speaks up again, "How about this Perotta? There's not much on him."

Garcia makes quick work to pull up what seemed to be deleted records and that's where they find something interesting.

"Alcohol addiction at 14, violent outbursts, assaults,–– Once threw a Molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car." She can't believe what she's reading.

"Several notations for aggression," He adds, but this is where he sees something truly wrong.

"He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a–– boy who looked at him for too long?"

He really didn't want to meet this guy.

"No fear, no remorse, quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult," Elle interprets. "Paranoid personality. Could be our guy."

And he really didn't want you to meet him either.

All the evidence is stacking up against him though, so you just might have to. He just wished that nothing bad would happen when you did.

––––––––––

While right now they weren't sure if he was the unsub, he was definitely someone who fit their profile. He saw some LEO's bring in a guy who had essentially been cuffed at every limb, accompanied by Hotch and Gideon, but he had yet to see the others.

He sees Morgan, who is walking alongside Elle (she went to see what all the commotion was about) but with who he sees next, he feels his stomach drop. Heart rate spiking in contrast to an all time high that he's practically sure he has tachycardia.

"What happened to you!?"

He got up from his seat to run over but you just shake your head.

You had come back with your clothes and hair in disarray, a bleeding nose, and a a busted lip. A complete disparity to the normally clean-cut and professional look that you had strived to maintain.

Even when you had been tackled to the ground a few cases back, the damage wasn't nearly as bad as this.

It's Derek that answers his question for him though.

"Perotta hit your girl up in the head, Reid." He chooses to ignore the joke. Too worried as he tries to check on your head but you just softly squeeze his hands to reassure him before you push them away.

Still not looking at him as you finally speak.

"It wasn't that bad. He hesitated. It could've been worse."

He doesn't like your answer.

If you had just been hit in the head and yet your nose is bleeding, that was a clear sign of a concussion. And the cut on your lip had to be from a fall. On asphalt or onto another material, it didn't matter to him since both are just as bad.

As he expresses that, you just tell him to drop it and then move away from him.

Before he can say more however, Hotch comes back into the room with his usually stern expression. A bit of worry lacing his tone, Spencer notes, as he orders you.

"Go home."

He's staring you down, but it seemed you had a lot more to say to that.

"Sir Hotchner, I would be of much more use in here. It is imperative that all available resources are focused on the retrieval of James Baker." He sighs because you're right, but that doesn't seem enough to satisfy you.

The boy-genius hates it when you use reason to get your way.

"Fine. Help Reid and the others with the evidence. We can narrow down his area of operation from there. They should be arriving soon."

You shake your head adamantly. "Sir, I can handle the interrogation--"

"No you can't!"

Spencer surprises himself with his outburst, but you don't even turn to look at him.

It's Hotch that gives him a very pointed stare though before continuing,

"Reid is right, agent. We'll handle the interrogation, so please busy yourself here." He says it with a finality that is indicative of his departure but you stop him one last time. Hand going up to rest on your mentor's collar.

He sees you gesture to your own, and Spencer hears an intention in your voice that he can't quite understand.

"Let's not give him a weapon, sir. He's pretty strong."

He sees his boss nod, and he takes off his tie. Putting the cloth into your awaiting hand, and you grip it out of instinct.

Reid zones out as he sees this interaction in disbelief. Did you normally touch the others like this?

You had completely brushed off his concern, not even looking at him. And yet when it was your unit chief that told you to do so, you had simply followed?

He thought he was starting to become an exception to you, but had he been reading the signs wrong? It could very much be a possibility as he was never good at doing so.

Even later when he had been sifting through the bags from the suspect's van, you still didn't respond to him. Even going as far as to ignoring Penelope's offer to watch the tapes they had found in Perotta's van. Shaking your head, 'no' with a faraway look in your eyes.

Just what had exactly happened while he wasn't by your side?

At this point, Spencer’s convinced that you would never like him.

If not for you having eyes on literally anyone else but him, then definitely because he had disappointed you. Desecrated the honor that came with being an FBI agent.

Just because he had been distracted.

A whirlwind of emotions had been flurrying inside him since the very beginning of this case, but he swears that he had never meant for this.

He doesn't even remember how it happened. Which baffled him, given his memory. But he thinks it's because he couldn't have cared less about the past few hours.

He had been stuck babysitting Lila only because you had told him so. Entrusted him with her because you thought that he was the best person to guard her, to comfort her.

He didn’t know it was because you had a feeling he’d be safer by her side.

And some part of him was flattered that you had said all this about him. Especially when all Lila would hear from him were endless praises of your name, of your work, and your caring nature.

But another part of him felt ignored. Pushed aside.

He doesn't know when it had happened, but Hotch had stopped pairing you together some cases ago. Saying something about you needing physical training, though he sincerely doubted that.

He thought that things were going well between you two. He had just been trying to find the perfect window where you would see him in a good enough light.

A good enough light that would make you say 'yes' to going on a date with him.

He didn't even care that the pretty blonde was interested in him. He only agreed because you stressed her safety more than any other target thus far. But the attention that she was giving him?

That was all that he wanted from you.

All he'd been wanting for months.

And when he had kissed her, all he could think about was you. How it would've felt if it was you in his arms, how you would react if it had been you that he was touching.

But then immediately after, how you would react to him kissing another girl.

God, he was pathetic.

He knew that you had been having a hard time lately. And he also knew that it had a lot to do with your work, how he did his, and his safety. That was all you ever stressed about when you were with him.

If he was safe.

You'd think he'd learn that by now, but he hasn't. Which is why even when he knew all this, his heart still ached as he sees you cry into Morgan's arms. Sobbing like no tomorrow. All because of something he did.

All because he took all your hard work, that had been focused on keeping him alive, and essentially throwing it right back at your face.

His negligence did that.

And he supposes that now, he can't do anything to get into your good graces anymore. Not when Derek Morgan seemed to better at doing his job as a federal agent, and his job as your friend.

When he finally gets changed into dry clothes and enters Lila's house, he doesn't miss the way that you turn from him. He also doesn't miss the glare the other agent was giving him. Nor the careful hand that had been rubbing up and down your arm.

Something that he wished he could've been doing instead.

––––––––––

God, he wanted to be anywhere but here, considering this is where it all went downhill.

"Did you give Lila Archer a collage?" Gideon had started the interrogation, so even if he did want to leave, he couldn't.

"What?"

"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa. She says you gave it to her."

But the faster that they could get this done, the faster he could apologize to you.

"So? I didn't make the damn thing." Parker had laughed out, clearly not comprehending the severity of the situation.

"So you just happened to give her a work of art containing most of her life in it?" Spencer pushed but was surprised to see his ex-classmate seemingly have no recollection of the situation at all.

Something was wrong.

If it wasn't him, then who––?

"I––no, no. Look, I lied. I just wanted her to like me. I met her here, and she was a fan of art. Someone gave me the piece to give to her, but I told her it was from me."

It can't be––

"I said I found it, and I thought she'd love it."

"And who gave it to you?" Morgan had finally asked.

"Her name's Maggie Lowe. She uh––She works on Lila's show."

When Spencer hears this, he immediately goes to call you on his phone. Maggie Lowe had gone to Juilliard with Lila and was the production assistant that he swore he saw go in and out of her trailer.

If he wasn't so distracted, he would've fucking noticed that.

But his phone doesn't even ring for a few moments before the call is declined.

What the fuck was happening?

Before he could ask anyone else, he heard Derek speak up.

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—" Spencer tries to talk to you through Morgan's phone, but is knocked off balance when the man turns around in shock.

"Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.”

"Let me talk to her!" He practically begs, but before anyone could even understand what he was saying, the call is ended from your side.

"Reid, what the hell were you trying to do?"

He's shocked at his own actions too, but that's not what's on his mind right now.

"She dropped my call but she answered yours? And since when did you start calling her that?"

He knew it wasn't fair, especially after what he had done, but just when did you and him happen?

"Since you started being a dumbass. Get over yourself, kid."

Everyone then started making their way to the two SUV's parked outside, but Spencer took the one that Morgan was driving.

He wasn't done with this conversation.

He tries to call you again, but this time, it looks like the line is busy. What was going on, where were you? He tries Lila's phone, even though he's sure she won't pick up and nothing either.

He has half a mind to ask Morgan to call you, in case you were just being petty and ignoring him, but he feels his phone vibrate. He suddenly hears his phone ring, and he hurriedly answers without checking the caller ID.

Hoping that it would be you on the other hand as he called out your name.

"Nope, sorry hon, it's me." It was Garcia's voice, but it sounded like she was shaking. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he instinctively puts his phone on speaker.

"Reid, I need you to listen to me very carefully— I've already alerted officials in the area, but your unsub? Is in Lila Archer's house."

You can't keep doing this, he thinks. You can't keep scaring him like this, because he's starting to feel so sick.

He looks to his friend in the driver's seat and sees him nod when they make eye contact. Speeding up as they thank Penelope before she ended the call.

At this point, he could care less with how pathetic he might've looked. No longer caring about how uncool you thought he was, or whatever might've been going on between you and Morgan, or if you still had a crush on your boss— none of that.

They had left you behind with Lila and no one else.

Spencer had always feared that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon. And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.

If the reason you were alone and held captive by some psychotic shooter was because he had pissed you off enough to even dismiss his help?

He might never forgive himself for it.

When they arrive, he immediately gets out of the car. Ready to run in and ambush Maggie by himself if he has to when Lila runs into his arms. Holding a gun in her hand as if it were a bomb.

A Glock 19 that he's seen you use since his first official cases on the team.

He notices Morgan, Elle, and Gideon were already out, but Hotch and JJ have still yet to arrive.

He knows that he should wait until further instructions. That there wasn't a protocol for this specific situation. Or maybe there was, but his IQ of 187 had always been slashed down to 60 whenever you were involved.

When he hears a gun fire from inside the house, he's the first one that starts running.

He's thankful that he wasn't alone when he did though.

By the time that Maggie had been apprehended, you were already well on your way to the nearest hospital. According to the clock from inside your room, and the news report that had been playing, a full twelve hours at the very least had passed since then.

You tried to remember what had happened. Tried to remember how you screamed for help once you had subdued her. How she shot you when you tackled her.

Probably with the intention to kill you, then herself had you not talked her out of it.

You groan as you feel the blooming pain in your side. Probably from the GSW that you're going to have to note in your action report.

And then you remembered how you realized what you felt for Spencer and the rest of the team.

You shake your head despondently.

When you look back on every situation where you had essentially put yourself on the line for his sake, you notice that you had really been doing that out of your own volition.

That you had been doing it because you didn't want him getting hurt.

You just didn't like that the the team was turning it into some sort of responsibility.

And sure. Maybe the others were complicit in pairing you up, or guilty for giving you odd looks, but they probably wouldn't have done that if it wasn't something you were already going to do.

God, you felt so pathetic.

You don't think you can handle looking at Spencer now. Not after your existential crisis, and certainly not after what you said before he left.

But luck has a way, so it seems, to constantly elude you.

You note this as you see the very man that you had been thinking of slowly opening the door and perking up when he sees your eyes on him.

Well, as perked up as he could be. Given the circumstances.

"How uh—, How are you? A-Are you...okay?"

You take in how he looks when he asks. Dark rings encircling his eyes, (he had been up all night waiting for you), usually neat hair in a mess (he had been running his hands through them nonstop), and shirt all crumpled from being hunched over for so long (a different one, because he just couldn't stand the vague scent on chlorine in his old one.)

Your heart sinks at the sight and you beckon him closer with your strong hand. Echoing his question.

"Are you okay, Dr. Reid?"

He lets out a shaky breath when he finally hears your soft voice again, slowly approaching you as he does. He was so worried that the last words he would hear from you would be your disappointment, but he persists.

"Can you please answer the question? I don't like it when you pretend like you're okay when you're obviously not."

His hand finds its way to trace little patterns on the back of yours. Occasionally looking up at to see if he was hurting you, before continuing when he sees that he isn't. Feeling too shy to do anything more.

You roll your eyes at the gesture. Flipping his hand to rest on the hospital bed and slipping yours on top of his. Giving it a soft squeeze.

"I could be better." You then squeeze his hand again. "Is this what you were trying to do?"

He thinks for a while, as if not really understanding your question, before nodding vigorously.

You smile at the sight but then feel your regret from a few hours ago come rushing back.

"I'm really sorry. For...everything." You don't think he knows what you're apologizing for, but you do it anyway.

If not now, when?

Spencer laughs a little at that but shakes his head. "Morgan told me about what you said. Back at Lila's. Well, more like he told everyone while we were waiting for you to wake up."

You nod. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to make contact so you try to let go, but he only entangles your fingers once more. Intertwining them as much as he can since this is the closest that he can afford to have you right now.

He feels his lips tightening into a thin smile before he says what's been haunting him for the past few hours.

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with me for so long. I never meant to burden you like that or make your job harder."

"No, Spencer please," you start, rubbing the only part of his hand that you could reach with your thumb.

"You were never a burden. I was just—caught up in a bunch of things."

He doesn't miss how your usual eloquence evades you. Which gives him a bit of an idea as to how unscripted and vulnerable you were being with him right now.

And as much as he should hate this for you, he'd love it if you would learn to be a bit more vulnerable in front of him. Even if it was a departure from your usually starched blazers, pressed blouses, and clean-cut exterior.

He still thought you were cool just like this.

"Have I ever told you that I thought you were really cool?" You weakly snort at that.

"If by 'cool,' you mean constantly worrying about how everything could go wrong, then yeah. I'm super cool."

He shakes his head at that, but it looked like you weren't done.

"I think you looked cooler, though. Especially when you were next to the pool trying to dry your gun. You looked like a wet rat."

He groans at the mention but you continue to tease him.

"Hey, you were a handsome wet rat. Still a rat, but... you know. From Vegas. Arguably not as bad as the ones from New York. Now though, you're a handsome dry rat."

Now that, he just wines at. You weren't being fair.

How could you make him go through all this and then say that?

Did you know what kind of effect you have on him?

The two of you continue to sling back jokes at the other, a common thing you used to do before things went south. And just enjoying each other's presence.

Holding his hand as you absentmindedly started massaging it. He didn't even notice how his hand had been shaking since the moment you first held onto it.

He was so so glad you were alive. That you were still here, with him. And there's no place he would rather be than where you were.

"So. How about you start telling me what you've been up to while I've been knocked out, hm? What have you learned, genius?"

He's learned a quite a lot, while you were away.

He learned that he should probably encourage you to have more breaks. Learned that you should both talk to each other, and everyone, a bit more. And he learned that you two weren't so different after all.

He's also learned how much he really liked your smile, your laugh, your soft touch, and the way that his name fell from your lips.

He doesn't tell you any of this, however.

Opting to instead tell you about the numerous facts he's picked up during the case, and how much he hated Hollywood.

[a/n] And with that, this marks the end of this specific timeline! I've honestly loved writing with this reader's specific personality in mind, and I'm looking forward to how she'll mellow out when she learns to be more honest.

I have a few ideas for one shots regarding this specific dynamic, but if you enjoyed it as much as I did, please tell me what you thought about this short series! And if you have any idea on what you'd like to see next from these dumbasses, send an ask my way!

Thank you so much for liking them thus far.

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds imagine

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago

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Sarcasm's DPxDC rec list

{I have no else to blame but myself for how long this could have been. I don't discriminate between ships in the fandom. If I'm curious, I'll read it, but I do have a particular love for Hardcover if you haven't somehow guessed. }

Main Masterlist Regent Series Mundane Macabre

[Hardcover/Anger Management ship]

I’m Picking You Up by Clouds

Unfortunately, the Bad Guys Are Human by aggiepuff (With sequel, "Welcome to the Neighborhood" in the same series)

Premeditation by Chromatographic (With its WIP sequel, "The Mercy of the Fallen")

The Wonderous Beauty of the Statuesque Scarlet by Elizabehta_Beilschmidt Unwanted Farewells by TheStarfishAlien (Not sure if this should be in this category or in general)

When All Other Lights Go Out by suzukiblu

Slap-A-Soulmate by Bewitched_Forest

Blood On the Crown by SkylarkSky (WIP)

[Demon Twins/Damian and Danny are Twins] Phantom Assassin by Kanereader765 (WIP) (An incredible view on an assassin trained Phantom who escaped the league)

Cain and Abel Wept by Katlover98 The Fenton Twins by AceFace98 (Twist on the usual demon twin formula) Twin Stars by CrescentCyan

The Bat Trap by Threee (One of the best works I have ever had the pleasure of reading in this fandom. Still reread it every now and then because I love it so much.)

[General Recs]

Ghosts In Gotham by Sivan5733 (Technically two out of the 5 works contain Hardcover content, the fifth work is the longest and its a great series.)

Robin's Egg by Calix (WIP) (Hilarious)

TWINcognito mode by nerdpoe (Double the unasked for gremlin.)

let the mourners come by PorcelanaRota (RIP twitter)

I’m King Boo by TourettesDog

Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy

The Misadventures of Cosplay Man by Shynnohwen

Midnight Blues and Late Night Tunes by halfagone

Hatred at First Sight by Sagoberattare

If I had a nickel… by bongo_balderdash

Somebody’s Gonna Love You by DisillusionedDanny

Danny Fenton, Hero Helper Extraordinaire by aryelee

You Look Like You’ve Seen A Ghost by ShootingFromAfar

You’re Gonna Be Sooo Haunted by ReverseNecromancer (WIP)

Death In the Hometown by Bad_Wolf_CDS (WIP)

Who Hurt My Baby? By OneDayITooWillChallengeGod (WIP)

Raising Phantom by Imp_y (WIP)

Blood Sons by Katlover98

Bask In Our Cosmic Insignificance by DisillusionedDanny

A King’s Prerogative by SugarPhantom

[Dead Tired]

Still Into You by DisillusionedDanny

The Rebirth of Tim Drake by Bewitched_Forest (WIP)

Family Introductions by Half-dead Ham

[Dead Silent]

Full Time Hero, Full Time Disaster by halfagone

[Dead On Main]

Lightning In A Bottle by DisillusionedDanny (WIP)

Like Betta Fish Do by PaperPuffin (WIP)

Empty Graves by Binaberries (WIP)

I Killed The Who? By Petite_Phthora (WIP)

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #hardcover ship #fanfic rec #ao3 link #not even close to all of them #dead tired #dead on main #dead silent #my fanfic rec list

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helenrourke · 5 months ago

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December Writing Progress Wrap-up

Today I decided that on the last Saturday of every month I want to share my writing progress. That way I can look back and see what I did or was inspired by in previous months. December was a big month for me. After years of procrastination, I finally sat down and began to write fics I’ve been wanting to write for years now. I’m proud of myself for finally gaining the courage to join the AO3 community and I hope to continue to be a part of it in 2025.

What I published

This is Me – Was a Camp Rock Inspired Seiya x Usagi fic, heavily inspired by an unfinished fanfic I wrote in the 2010s. I honestly wrote this fic because I read a Tumblr post about reading our old bad fanfiction for funsies and this was the result of it. I am honestly glad I did this. Not only did I get to write a scene I always wanted to write, but this fic was also a tribute to a dear friend of mine who passed away who was part of the Camp Rock fanfiction community back in the day. I hope she liked that the first fic I wrote was inspired by her love of fanfic. Even though she never really got my love of Sailor Moon.

I’m Giving You the Fire – was the unasked for but written sequel in the same universe as This is Me. This fic again is a Usagi x Seiya fic, except from Chibiusa’s POV, who in this fic is Usagi’s cousin. This fic was heavily inspired by rereading my old fic outline and seeing how excited I have been about writing this scene taking place during Camp Rock 2 sequel I had planned. However, I never got that far to begin with. I’m glad I finally got to write that scene, and I had fun with it.

The Imperial House – This is the fic I was most excited to post. I had planned on releasing it in January 2025. However I had so much inspiration, I was able to post the Prologue and Act One early. This fic is my Goong inspired, Hana Yori Dango fic where Tsukushi finds out she’s engaged to grandson of the Emperor of Japan. The Imperial House is the first book of a planned trilogy and is my focus when it comes to writing longer fics. Honestly, I’m glad it’s finally out and that people are enjoying it. I've had this story in my head since 2020 and I'm glad to be finally writing it out.

Currently Writing

The Imperial House – I’m currently focusing on having a backlog written since grad school takes a lot out of me and I want to try to post a chapter a month. However, I know real life happens. Currently the first drafts of Act Two through Act Four have been written and I am currently writing the first draft of Act Five as of posting this. The story has been completely outlined, so hopefully I can try to stay on track.

Future Goals for January

Mene – is a Hana Yori Dango Au - Canon Divergence Tsukushi x Akira one-shot that I’m working on as a side project. I know I said I was planning on working on it one day, but I got a really good idea while working at my job today. It’s currently in the drafting stages and I have no estimate of when I’m releasing it.

The Imperial House – The goal is to finish editing and finalizing Act Two and post it in mid-January.

Final Thoughts

toxic till the end – is the AU - Non-powers Seiya x Usagi one-shot I wrote while listening to the album Rosie at 1AM when I couldn’t sleep after Christmas. I hadn’t planned on publishing it because it’s about a toxic relationship. However, a fellow AO3 writer @purplesoil who I was chatting with a few days back encouraged me too. The plans are to release it on New Years Day.

I want to give a quick shoutout to both @sojirosteacup (who is also an author on AO3 and you should check their blog to get a link to their account) and @hana-yori-dango-forever who have been nothing but nice to me since I've started my fanfic writing journey. Both of them have encouraged me to write my fics, offer me advice, promote my stories, and listen to my rants about my works. Honestly if it wasn’t for your both I would have given up writing my story, before I even started.

Anyway, writing in 2024 was great, looking forward to growing more in 2025.

#monthly writing wrap up #fanfiction #wriiting goals #ao3 fanfic #for myself

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its-sixxers · 1 year ago

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abeyance

(sorting through old docs, have a prelude to a half light sort-of sequel starring viola the tremere and allusions to a 70s new york fic i might write eventually)

tremere oc x mercurio, blood bond angst

—

Los Angeles was a lost cause. Venture Tower burned, and Viola could see the glow of flame against the navy sky through the chantry window.

A muscle in her throat constricted. Her eyes felt dry, itched, and something between her ribs ached.

After thirty years apart they were reunited in the city of angels. Never to exchange words, to make reunion as painful as separation. Once they had been friends, one they had been each other’s sole confidant, the only one to be trusted. A chasm greater than time spanned between them, greater than regnant.

Life no longer hummed through her veins. He was yet a servant. When she looked at him she could see the color in his cheeks, his nose, his ears, the red in his knuckles, and it reawakened a hunger she’d long tried to forget, long thought she’d smothered. It reawakened twisted, a predator wishing to hunt and kill and consume, and she’d thought it was for the best that their paths crossed rarely and in places where they could not speak.

Until the sky burned, his regnant dead, and his life destined for the ashes if it had not already joined it.

Six months later she stood in the San Diego chantry, a pitiful small thing near the sea, Strauss at his desk across from her and looking no less imposing despite their diminished circumstances.

“I was informed a week ago that the Camarilla is sending an Archon here.” The regent explained. “To help Prince Tierney maintain control over the city, officially - an embarrassment to her, to be sure.”

“Unofficially?” Viola inquired, though she couldn’t give life to her voice. It was flat, hollow, numb - and Strauss was not impressed.

“The events in Los Angeles were disturbing. Confusing. By all accounts the Anarchs had no chance of success. The fledgling was their catalyst, of course, but she had no right to her achievements at her age. I met the poor creature.” Strauss frowned deeply. “There have been isolated reports of increases in blood potency through the ages, and each have been treated with utmost gravity by the Camarilla. This is one of such cases.”

Viola remained silent, her question unasked but obvious. Strauss was telling her this for a reason.

“I have met the poor creature,” Strauss repeated. “But I knew her little. Those with greater familiarity are our enemy. LaCroix for all of his faults would enlighten us. Unfortunate. However,” he rose from his desk and walked past her, pushing open the door to his office and gesturing for her to follow him. “The Nosferatu were willing to cut a deal.”

Strauss led her through the chantry, a crumbling abandoned mission church by the seaside that had been layered with enchantment upon enchantment. Through the halls, floors of sun baked ceramic, down into the cellar; converted to cells. Viola’s curiosity managed to burn through the fog of her apathy, the dimmest glimmer of flame. The infamous Red Nosferatu was dead, the fledgling who’d seized Los Angeles by the throat and had brought an Archon to the New World to see how she’d done so - and yet a part of Viola hoped she had been brought to the very cells they passed by. A part of her burned with envy, wishing she could grasp such power and break her chains so easily.

Instead Strauss stopped by the final cell, next to a rotting wooden rack that had once held wine barrels. A figure was curled in the corner of the cell, in the darkness; hair graying and limbs bony. The faint scent of cologne, cigarettes, and gun polish met her nostrils, sparking familiarity in her memory.

Not the infamous fledgling - but someone back from the dead, nevertheless.

“Mercurio.” she breathed. He flinched, raised his head to meet her gaze - there were deep lines set in his face, he looked fifteen years older and exhausted. Viola’s chest grew tight, and reflexively she wrapped her hand around the bars of the cell. Mercurio dropped his gaze back to his feet. Terror lanced through her at the realization he hadn’t been fed in some time - perhaps not since LaCroix’s death.

In only a few years she’d be seventy. Which meant he’d - not die, exactly, but -

“The Prince’s ghoul.” Strauss affirmed, cutting off her panicked thoughts. “The next best thing. It’s my understanding he was somewhat close with the fledgling. I recall the two of you having great success in New York when you worked together. I hope your knowledge will fill in the blanks where he lacks it, and the Archon will leave satisfied.”

The unsaid was obvious. If unsatisfied, it was likely both she and Mercurio would be dragged back to Europe, minds subjected to all the techniques the Camarilla had at their disposal to ferret out the truth. Viola was a sacrificial lamb. It was a hazard of the job, after all.

“How long has he been starved?” she inquired quietly, keeping her tone aloof and uninterested. Strauss knew they’d worked together, but he could never know how closely - even if it was only ever one sided, a flame too dim to shine across the abyss of separate regnants.

“Long enough for entropy to resume.” Strauss said dryly. “Perhaps the anarchs grew tired of feeding him - or he was unable to scavenge what dregs he could.”

Viola could have lied - could have said he would be dead soon if it was allowed to continue, soon to be useless to any interrogator - but Strauss was not one to remain ignorant of those enjoying his hospitality, prisoner or guest. All she could do was stare at his hunched form.

“In order to expedite the task that lies ahead of you, he is yours.” The regent continued. “Consider him a reward for your work in Los Angeles with the fledgling’s sire. If he survives the Archon’s questions, he’ll serve you as well as he did LaCroix. Admirably, from my understanding - a pity for the Prince that he wasn’t there to help on that final night.”

LaCroix was dead. Perhaps it was a threat - a mockery - but Viola knew Mercurio better than Strauss would ever guess.

Hers. It made nausea roll in her gut. Her ghoul, and all that implied.

At least he would be fed, she reassured herself.

“The Archon is expected within the fortnight.” Strauss advised. “Ensure you’re ready to answer his questions by then. I’ve business to attend to; I trust you can handle him.”

Viola nodded - it wasn’t a question, but she answered nevertheless. Strauss’ footsteps echoed against the cobblestone of the cellar. She waited until they crested the stairs before she passed her hand over the door lock, willing her heart to beat.

The echo of blood unlocked it, and she drew open the cell. Mercurio did not move from where he was huddled, not even when she knelt in front of him.

Words stuck in her throat, her tongue heavy when she opened her mouth. To her shame a low whine escaped her - a whimper, at how matters were never in their control, how it had all come to this - how their continued existence was about to rely on a betrayal, an abomination, and worst of all it might only buy them a few more weeks.

The city of angels was lost, and the failure lay heavy upon their shoulders.

“Do I leave you?” she whispered to him in the dark. “I can’t imagine the hunger, but if this is what you want -”

Mercurio lifted his head again, silencing her, his blue eyes nearly glimmering in the gloom. Far too pretty for him, for the man they belonged to; doubly so now that time was enacting its revenge upon his body.

“No.” he spoke after a beat of silence, his voice hoarse.

“You know what it’ll do.” Viola continued nevertheless, her own voice cracking. They both had been ghouls, they knew what it did - how one could never quite be themselves again, always aware of the boot on their neck. After the death of her sire she’d been free - as free as a childe of Tremere ever could be - but he’d been shackled long after she.

Until then - until he sat hunched in the cell, what youthful charm he had fading fast.

Viola peeled off her gloves, pressed the thumb of her left hand to her right wrist, let her nail bite into the flesh. Deliberately she drew a thin line, her blood a darkened and thick plum in color rather than the crimson of a mortal, stark against her ashen skin.

Mercurio’s pupils blew wide at the sight, the gleaming blue of his iris now a thin line. He sat up straight, leaned forward, licked his lips - he was salivating, and if her heart still beat it would have quickened its pace.

Instead she lifted her wrist to his face, and his hands wrapped around her arm. They were hot, even after a stay in the cell, and his mouth was hotter, tongue pressed to the wound in her skin, burning, heat crawling up her veins as he fed from her. Some primal instinct urged her to bat him away, to crush his cheekbone against the back of her knuckles for his presumption, but instead she remained still.

The lines in his face softened, some of the damage of the ages reversed - when there was nothing more to be done she withdrew her arm, even as he still clung to it. Viola laved her own tongue over the cut, tasting him against her skin. Bittersweet.

Once upon a time she’d imagined herself kissing him, tasting him upon her tongue in a much different context. It’d been a source of no small amount of shame, for there was no hope of reciprocation - and now, with him shuddering from a new source of vitae in his veins the shame colored a shade darker.

How long had she hoped for the Embrace, how naively she’d thought it would improve her station. Ever since had been failure after failure, isolation after isolation, all in her living death tainted and twisted.

Mercurio’s hands had fallen to her knees, his gaze fixed hungrily on her lips. How she’d wanted him to look at her the way he did then, on the edge of manic, some shade of the desperate madness she’d once felt. Forbidden, taboo.

Now she was certain he’d do whatever she asked, sate each fantasy she’d ever felt - but those blooms were blackened husks now, and she had no desire to turn them into nightshade.

Instead she stood, walked back to the cell door to take her leave.

Mercurio gripped her ankle, giving her pause. She thought he’d ask her for more blood, but instead he managed to speak three words into the damp air, vocal cords rejuvenated by her vitae.

“I missed you.”

Viola lowered her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Oh, she wanted to believe him, but she knew what it was to have a regnant feet from her, how one wanted to say anything in hopes of a scrap of approval, mind crude and not one’s own.

“I’ll lead you to my room.” she said flatly, desperately trying to ignore how he seemed to hang on her every word. Mercurio was never a sycophantic ghoul, always aloof and reserved in his way - but she knew him well enough to know what it took to make him straight backed, to make him reach out, to hold onto something. “No doubt Strauss has work for me, so I won’t be around much, but you’ll have your hands busy with research.”

It didn’t take long for Mercurio to understand - he was always smarter than anyone gave him credit for. With a groan he clambered to his feet, joints most assuredly stiff from his time in captivity - though the vitae in his veins meant that wouldn’t be a reality for much longer.

She tried to ignore how he eyed her as she pulled the cell door open, how acutely aware he appeared to be of her. Before they left the cellar he stopped her again - this time with a simple brush of his fingers against the back of her arm.

“Are you upset?” he asked, so bluntly she felt as if she’d been slapped.

“No.” she answered, equally bluntly. “Why?”

“I never came with you.”

New York burning, just like Venture Tower. He chose the ashes over her twice, bonds of blood stronger than anything their experience together could create. She could never blame him - and felt some bitterness to know that in the end it didn’t matter either way.

He was tied to her now, and would never be the man she’d grown to care for again so long as he was. A catch 22, his life her responsibility and the very duty ensuring things would never be the same.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” she said quietly, and he did not argue with her.

Against all hope, she still hoped they’d survive the Archon, for anything was better than the void. Even a poor parody of briefest happiness.

#vtmb #fanfic #oc: viola florakis

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blackberrysummerblog · 1 year ago

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Somewhat More than Six Sentence Sunday!

Thanks so much for the tags this morning, @nightimedreamersworld and @larkral! I really appreciate everyone who’s been tagging me the past couple of weeks—I love seeing what everyone’s been writing and creating!

This is an unasked-for sequel to Monsters Under the Bed, the one and only fic I managed for COC this year ��. If you read it, you know it ended on a surprisingly high note after Simon blew Baz’s side of the room up, and in this snippet he’s hard at work scrubbing it down. Baz is hard at work ogling him:

Snow’s working on the walls right now��I pointed out that scrubbing the floors only to pour dirty water down onto them again was a fool’s errand, and for once he seems to be listening. He’s been in shockingly high spirits in spite of the mess and destruction. We put in a request with Housing for a new bed, but with the influx of new students, we’re last on the list. (I also suspect that after putting up with our shenanigans for the past seven years, the beleaguered Mrs. Smickley would have Snow and I last on her list regardless.)(This is unfortunately not the first piece of furniture she’s had to replace in our room.) At any rate, I’ve spent the last two nights blissfully curled up in Snow’s bed, surrounded by the scent of him if not his physical presence. Snow has slept on the floor and, to his credit, has made no complaint, although I did notice he seemed a little creaky on the way to the en suite this morning.

He’s going to be the death of me. I always knew he would be, but somehow I’d imagined a more bloody, dramatic end in battle, not the ignominious case of vapors I’m afflicted with every time he stretches up to reach a corner of the ceiling and lets his shirt rise up above his waistband.

I hope everyone’s week is off to a great start! No-pressure tagging: @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @valeffelees @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @orange-peony @hushed-chorus @theotherhufflepuff @ionlydrinkhotwater @ivelovedhimthroughworse @iamamythologicalcreature @ic3-que3n @nausikaaa @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @bazzybelle @fatalfangirl @ileadacharmedlife @facewithoutheart @that-disabled-princess @thewholelemon @j-nipper-95 @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @imagineacoolusername @martsonmars @letraspal @palimpsessed @raenestee @stitchyqueer @rimeswithpurple @stardustasincocaine @captain-aralias @alexalexinii @wellbelesbian @supercutedinosaurs @aceumbrellaheroes @whogaveyoupermission @onepintobean @c0nsumemy5oul

#six sentences sunday #the simon snow series #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #watford era #watford eighth year #sweaty Simon #vapors-afflicted Baz #the mess is impervious to cleaning spells #of course it is 😭#there is only one bed #what could happen

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jessilynallendilla · 1 year ago

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So I just read Danny Phantom: A Glitch in Time and...it was ok

Had this come out when I was a kid and just watched Ultimate Enemy I would have gone absolutely feral over it

this show came out in 2004 so not quite sure how to feel about the updated technology IMO it would have been cool to have a time capsule of the show than the common floating timeline you see in comics

unlike with DC graphic novels you can tell the person that wrote this is actually a fan of the show and not a rando corporate pick the plot is plausible and the characters stay in character

A loyal tribute that brings in new lore and character growth

it also retcons the hated movie Phantom Planet

And it leaves enough to be curious for the sequel

People either seem to love it saying it's a good continuation the more serious take they wanted or hate it saying they're tired of villains being complex and redeemable and not pure evil anymore and the plot seems too much like tumblr fanfiction

I made notes as a read it so spoilers under the cut

Dash Kwan Paulina and Star are ghost hunters

Tucker has instagram/twitter “Spectregram” fans

The Fentons supply the town’s ghost hunting tech unasked

Tucker’s wiki “click-a-pedia" has him listed as married to Ember

Danny and Jazz just accept their father is such a bungler he can’t even kill a guy by abandoning him in space

Dan was strong enough to dent the only thing that can contain him and just it being knocked off a shelf was enough for him to break out (why Clockwork the Master of Time never foresaw this happening moved it from a table to a more secure location ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So uh... Dan just absorbed “ate” Clockwork

Ecto energy can reach atomic bomb levels so dimension ending threat there

Since the Disasteroid his powers have been fading their theories match their personalities Tucker-science Sam-government Jazz-trauma

“Do you have any childhood trauma you wanna talk about?” (like Jazz as if you weren’t there)

Vlad found a primordial source of ecto energy and just kept that information to himself for a rainy day

Jazz has a magical girl transformation for her ghost fighting suit

Vlad is just “ignore those clones” (there in clothes so did Vlad just buy multiple copies of Danny’s favorite outfit how did he know his size)

Vlad is such an old man who doesn’t know how to use modern computers

“not a place of honor” ah the nuclear waste warning (we don’t really get much more exploration of this or the seven ancients)

Sam is a horse girl

Valerie still holding that grudge huh

In Pariah’s Keep Danny is suffers from bad memories and holds Sam’s hand to comfort himself

The Keep is Fright Knight’s domain

Danny just forgets humans are the ghosts in the Ghost Zone (in line with how often he forgets what powers he has)

Fright Knight calls Pariah his master

Vlad is such a loser he keeps getting his shit kicked

Maddie “That’s not my Danny.”

The Ghost Zone and human world were split in half an unnatural divide

Danny is still a C student (io don't think he's going to be an astronaut)

Ghosts are manifestations of human emotions not separate entities (take that Fartman)

Eventually they start to lose their human identity it’s why some are less human

Vlad has his own “Where’s the rest of it?” meme

They figured out all ghosts run on some emotional drive or purpose

Danny realizes his purpose is protection but now there’s no longer the monster of the week threat or his parents he never asked himself what he wanted

Now instead of constant fighting he’ll help the ghost achieve their desires they just want to keep doing in death what they did in life and heal the rift

Fight for control Clockwork

Vlad finally grew as a person realizing it was his action and drive for power that drew everyone away and has making amends as his new purpose

Dan just doesn’t want to be alone (makes sense the “no more painful human emotions” +Vlad’s anger and abandonment issues so he’s all the emotions and pain)

Dan is destabilizing flashing back to his pre Dark child form because he’s a being outside his destroyed timeline

Danny is the GOAT

Clockwork needs to fix what he can of the time streams and Danny has two choices Post Disasteroid+no powers or Pre Disasteroid+powers

Danny gives up being accepted so he can fix the realms “I’m Danny Phantom, proctor of humans and ghosts!”

They are back to being invisible losers and Sam is just happy goths aren’t popular anymore

The city doesn’t know how they avoided the Disasteroid but the Mayor declares ghosts are responsible for everything the city will now have a branch of ghost hunters and Danny Phantom is again public enemy #1

Clockwork transfers Dan from Vlad into one of the empty clones he’s Vlad’s responsibility now he’ll be too busy to help again

Clockwork’s powers are finite (so he isn’t omnipotent and all powerful) but he still feels something wrong in the stitches he feels weaker now

And Valerie has a Time Medallion and is pissed (but there was a Valerie in the crowd at the Mayor’s speech so the two Valeries might meet up in the sequel)

Jazz is ecstatic she was right about ghosts being emotions based

#danny phantom #a glitch in time #agit #what I'm reading

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nerdyvocals · 10 months ago

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Hello again! To be honest, @look-at-those-niceass-rocks and I weren't originally sure if we were going to watch Rise of Red or not, but I saw some. Interesting things on tiktok, and we decided this would be a fun excuse to get tipsy on a Saturday night (we even made themed cocktails!), and that we would have a lot of unhinged things to say. Previously, we've also watched and kept a running commentary of the first three films and the Royal Wedding short film.

That said, I know opinions on this film have been very divided, and if you're looking for high praise, you will not find it here. The movie was cute, and we had fun, but we did not have a lot of compliments, and we're still messaging each other with criticisms a week later. If you're looking for two dumbasses who give tipsy critiques (please drink responsibly) about children's movies, please, proceed under the cut!

First, an honorable mention from a few days before the watch party: Bee (after we mentioned that we both, despite not originally planning on watching Rise of Red, had avoided spoilers just in case we changed our minds): Why do I care about spoilers for an unasked-for fourth movie in a franchise I only just became interested in?

Me (reading the description): Okay, so it looks like it's Back to the Future but Disney Bee: Great! Me: Was this needed? I feel like the trilogy wrapped things up nicely

Uma: This is Auradon, the kingdom where all your favorite fairytales are true. It was formed 30 years ago when- Me: PAUSE, okay so of the few things I've seen on tiktok,

Uma: Guess who they left in charge while they're gone? Me: That seems like a bad plan Bee: I was about to say

Me: So the biggest complaint I've seen so far has been about this, where Uma says that Auradon was founded 30 years ago Bee: Right Me: I've seen people call it a plot hole because in the first movie, Mal says the kingdom was founded 20 years ago, and I don't think they ever say exactly how much time passes between any of the movies, but the reality is, and I'm gonna touch your hand when I say this, Bee: *cackling* Me: The first movie came out in 2015. It is now 2024. The first movie came out almost 10 years ago, and in fact, when you add 10 to 20, ya get 30. Bee: *still wheezing* Me: Now, I don't know if the complaints are coming from new, younger fans who just recently binged the original trilogy in preparation for this and didn't realize when the first one came out, or if they're from older fans who have lost track of time and don't want to face the math- Bee: Fuck math, man!

(Continuing from the previous conversation, after discussing character ages and determining that Uma is likely between 26-28 at this point) Bee: That's too young to be headmaster, she's a baby Me: Bee, that's fairly close to 30, that's not unreasonable. I feel ya though, I'm not an adult, I'm a baby with a drinking permit. Bee: I think I've finally surpassed baby with a drinking permit, I'm more like. Adult, reluctantly

Fairy Godmother: The queen of Hearts refused to join Auradon when we united Me: Yeah, because you would've imprisoned her???

Blonde Wonderland Guard: *appears* Me: Lucius Malfoy??? Bee: Wig Me: Starkid's A Very Potter Sequel Lucius Malfoy???

Me: Does she (Red) have a nose ring??? Bee: Oh shit, she does! Me: We finally get some edginess to character design and it's when nose rings are no longer edgy

Honorable mention: Us spending Multiple Minutes trying to figure out if Maddox was supposed to be The Mad Hatter or the son of the Mad Hatter. We ended with no answers

(About Paolo!Charming) Bee: Oh, he has only gotten hotter Me: Correct! Why does he have blue in his hair Bee: Because he's hot

Me: Imagine being this in love still after raising Chad

Cindy: We wouldn't have been able to make this great family Bee: And Chad

Cindy: *presents Chloe with the Most Hideous Shoes I have Ever Seen* Me: *chugs what's left of my drink*

Cindy: We can visit Chad at college another time Me: Chad got into college??? Bee: Nepo baby

Bee: Does anyone in this movie understand "show don't tell?" Movie: *Insert Love Ain't It, aka Exposition: the Song* Me: Nope!

Cindy and the Queen of Hearts: *share a look* Me: Ex-lovers Red and Chloe: *share a look* Me: Future lovers?

Me: JABBERWOCKY MENTION! Bee: Drink!

Me: Is that supposed to be Jasmine and Aladdin? Bee: I think so? Me: Why does Jasmine have a fuck-ass bob? What is it with Descendants and fuck-ass bobs???

Me: I'm going to get so drunk over this Bee: I think that's safet Me: ...Safet???

Me: Where are Harry and Gil? Bee: On their honeymoon

(During the What's My Name? reprise) Bee: ...I need to take another drink Me: Same Bee: My drink is almost gone, I'm so sad Me: Do what I did, make another Bee: I will after this dork-ass song

Uma: Do you mind? Queen: I think I do Me: *pausing* Do you want to make a second drink real quick before things get cringier? Bee: ...I think that's a good idea

Me: I think I don't hate the silhouette of the Queen of Hearts' look, but it's way too monochromatic Bee: Drink! You're right though, there's no dimension

*Wand Breaks* Me: OH SHIT Bee: You could do that this whole time???

Cindy: Stop it, Bridget, you're better than this! Me: Is she? Bee: I don't think she is

Aladdin: Look at her, she's enjoying this! Me: Yeah, she's a teenager experiencing parental affection for the first time. Y'all really learned nothing, huh? Bee: You'd think after ten years they'd get their shit together

(As Cinderella is being led away) Bee: I love her poofs Me: God, me too, I love puff sleeves Bee: We are both just Anne Shirley

Fairy Godmother: *is young* Me. She looks so much like Jane Bee: For a second there, I thought that just straight up was Jane Me: Brilliant casting

Me: Why are their clothes so modern if this is supposed to be over thirty years ago

Me: This princess insult doesn't work if you're both princesses

Red and Chloe: *forehead touch* Me: Gay Bee: Kiss

(After Fight of Our Lives) Bee: I feel like this didn't need to be a song Me: We could've just had a homoerotic sword fight à la The Princess Bride

Me: Ahhh, that's why everyone is dressed so modern, so they can blend in without a costume change! That's so lazy!

Bee: He (Merlin) pulls a lit Molotov cocktail from his bag

(Alchemy Class) Bee: ...The hap is fuckening

Red: *eats a cupcake* Bee: These falsies are really gonna help me do alchemy!!!

Bridget: It's Jasmine and Aladdin! J&A: Call us Jaladdin! Me: I will not be doing that Bee: *choking* WHAT THE FUCK

Morgie: Son of Morgana! Me: See, Morgana has a kid already, but gee, why wouldn't Disney want children Googling Mordred? Bee: Hehehe

Uliana: TELL BRIDGET I WILL DESTROY HER Me: See, girl, she did warn you Bee: Why are Jaladdin going with?

Ella: Will you go to castlecoming with me? Me: OH Bee: GAY Me: So it wasn't a prank that turned her evil, it was that her girlfriend ditched her for a boy, Us, simultaneously: IT'S GIVING GOOD LUCK BABE

(In the Tremaine Manor) Me: Oooh, this kid is about to learn what parental abuse is

Bee: I need them to try and fix it and then have to go back again because they accidentally turn Cinderella evil Me: That's what the fifth movie is about, actually

Uliana's Hideout: *emerging from the water* Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT Bee: "Can-I-Have-A-Cigarette" lookin' ass Me: *WHEEZE*

(During Perfect Revenge) Bee: Kenny Ortega, I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you when I had you

(It was at this point, when Uliana was hanging by her tentacles, that Bee's husband entered to check on us) [Husband]: ...What in the Doc Ock

Me: Ooooh, that last sip hit, I think I've made it to drunk Bee: Oh boy! Me: I'm so glad I don;t have to be anywhere tomorrow Bee: Drink some water Me: Water is for weaklings! Bee: I don't get hangovers anymore because I hydrate while I drink Me: I don't get hangovers because I'm 22 Bee: Suck my dick, Levi Me: I don't think [Husband] would appreciate that Bee: [HUSBAND], CAN LEVI SUCK MY DICK?! [Husband], distantly: I don't know how to respond to that??? Me: *falling off the couch crying laughing*

Bridget: *talking about her Shuffle of Love dance* Me: If not going on date, why worried about love, I am drunk Bee: No, you're correct

Bridget: If I was your mom, I'd love to have a daughter that thinks for herself Me: BOY WOW I WAS NOT EXPECTING TO GET HIT IN THE MOMMY ISSUES

Bee: Oh, pretty boy (Paolo!Charming) is back! Also I stood up and I too am now drunk

(After some line about valiant knights being always good) Me: Have you heard of Lancelot? Bee: I was about to say

(During the Hands Dirty sequence) Me: This is a song from a better movie Bee: Not again

Bee: I simply do not believe that Cinderella would let her daughter grow up that dumb as hell. I do, however, believe that Prince Charming would let his daughter grow up that dumb as hell Me: have you met Chad? Bee: That's fair, actually. Chad's adopted Me: Who's goddamn white baby is that? Bee: Who's goddamn white baby is that!

Me: Pause! So here, funnily enough, is a perfect example of what my mentor calls "Disney Patches:"

Bee: Drink! Me: So what they're trying to do here is show that Ella has to wear her clothes to the bone and patches them herself. When you add patches to garments to make them look like they've been repaired, you need to make sure the placement makes sense, as in think about where clothes would likely wear to holes: for pants, that's gonna be mainly knees and inner thigh. Disney has a habit of just putting patches wherever in places they just wouldn't be, like here. Why does she have patches in random places on her leg? Bee: Ohhh Me: In some cases in can be a stylistic choice, but I would argue that Ella wouldn't be the type to waste that much fabric for no reason. I can forgive the pockets though, I've had pants that got holes in the pockets, and sometimes it's easier to replace them than to patch

(A shot of Headmaster Merlin's Door) Bee: Hmmm, Merlin Me: ...Headmaster Merlin Bee: hmmmmmmmm, Merlin

Bee, completely deadpan: Hoot hoot, motherfuckers

Me: The Night Falls scene fell flat on its face so this scene could feebly crawl

Me: It has only just occurred to me that Chloe's shoes were supposed to be glass this whole time, I thought they were just fucky Doc Martens Bee: Yeah! Put the uh. The ug. Put the ugly in uggs Me: I think you need to drink more water Bee: I think you're right

Me: They're red and blue gays Bee: They're red and blue gays!

Me: Fuck whatever this movie is supposed to be about, I need them to kiss

Bee: Obsessed with his (Merlin's) coat, costume department popped the fuck off with that Me: That's my line Bee: Drink bitch!

Me: Wait, is that the end? Bee: It can't be, there's no way that worked Me: There's only ten minutes left???

Uma: You didn't think that was the end of the story, did you? Me: FUCK OFF

Bee: I am deadass on Reddit Me: *dying* Bee: Trying to figure out what the fuck

Bee: Where was the climax??? Was it supposed to be that thing in Merlin's office? Me: It can't have been Bee: If it was it fell so flat. I feel like I've sobered up watching that

#descendants rise of red #disney descendants #rise of red #descendants 4 #rise of red spoilers #red descendants #chloe charming #bridget descendants #ella descendants

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easy-there-leftovers · 11 months ago

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Mixed Messages

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: The 5 times that you think you might hate Spencer Reid + the 1 time you realize you can't.

Alternatively; You're completely oblivious to your own growing feelings for Spencer that it constantly puts you in harm's way.

This can be seen as a prequel-sequel + sequel (?) to "A Question Unasked," but can be read independently of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e02, s1e04, s1e06, s1e10, and s1e18 | reader gets really mean in the later half lol |slight description of canon-typical violence, slight timeframe switches because it made more sense that way | word count: 8.9k (yowza--)

“It’s something, I know it is.” You mutter to yourself, rubbing the pads of your fingers together in an attempt to gather your thoughts. But you can’t.

Can’t find it.

Can’t find that one word.

“What do you call that thing when you–” you snap your fingers at your colleague. Your equal. “I’m sorry– what do you call the urge to do something or behave a certain way?”

This was your second case out on the field with the rest of the BAU since you’ve been recruited, and it had not been easy for you.

The BAU always seemed like a prestigious unit to be a part of. Only the best of the best ever got to rub elbows up in that department, having been founded by Jason Gideon and David Rossi.

Two of the most legendary profilers in the world.

And right now you, you haven’t been feeling the best. But Aaron Hotchner seemed to have thought otherwise.

Spencer thinks for a moment, trying to understand what you had just asked him while he stared at the board that still had the team’s ideas on it.

“Actually, it could be a number of things; urges, cravings, stressors, compulsions–”

“That one! You’re amazing at this, Dr. Reid.”

After noticing your knack for the more analytical aspects of the job, your mentor, the unit chief himself, had assigned you to work with one Dr. Spencer Reid. Another fresh grad that could not have been any older than you, but certainly seemed way smarter.

He said that you would work well together.

And you believed him.

You looked at the calendar that had been marked when the fires were started, fully missing how the genius had frozen at your praise, and you frantically reviewed the theory in your head.

Double-checking, triple-checking, and nodding when you see it’s consistent.

You then hurriedly pulled up the recording of Matthew in his dorm. Hovering so close to the screen, that Spencer had to be equally as close to it, and by extension to you, in order to even try seeing what you were seeing.

“Do you see it?” You look back at him, and his face is so close, you almost lose your nerve but thankfully, Gideon opens the door to check up on the both of you.

He pauses as if he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be, but carries on anyway.

“Don’t just look at the next move. It’s like chess, think three steps ahead.” He says it mostly to Spencer, you notice, but you also notice how he was slightly bothered by your proximity to his protege.

He doesn’t say anything about it, but you’re working as a profiler now for a reason.

You move away a little.

When he leaves, Spencer turns to look at you again and asks what you saw.

“See this?” You ask as you point to the part where there were two, clearly lit windows on screen and he nods. “There are two fires, right?” He nods again.

“Now look at this,” You show him the part where Matthew gets wet with gasoline, and is eventually set aflame.

“That was the third fire.”

You see Spencer’s eyes light up at your statement, and you hurriedly scrub back to where the unsub had been trying the door knob. Making sure to zoom in on the handle.

This time, it's the boy-genius that says it. “He turns the knob three times.” He looks at you to confirm his statement, and you nod. Looking into his eyes.

Something you did out of respect.

“Right, so if we’re not wrong,” you use the pronoun on purpose, “the professor’s office should have something to do with the number three as well.”

He walks with you to the burned office, professor Wallace’s office, and there you collectively discover more of the same number.

You have all the evidence you need.

***

“Sir Hotchner, we know why the profiles never fit.” It’s you who opens the door first, but Spencer is the one that carefully closes it behind you.

He looks at Gideon. “You were right to tell Morgan not to rely on precedent.” He then sets up the computer that you two had brought and you continue for him.

“So far, the fires that have been set are completely task-oriented.”

Hotch quirks his brows at that. “So once the fires are set, the unsub is done?”

You nod.

“Correct, sir. The reason why the profile never fit is because it contradicts the mold of a classic serial arsonist– his use of fire is the compulsion of a completely different disorder.” “Which is?” Gideon questions.

“An extreme manifestation of OCD– Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” Spencer answers as he finally found out how to turn the computer on. The two of you exchanging lines in perfect synchronization.

“He does everything in threes. And if I’m right, he’ll have to kill again.”

The four of you discuss the behavioral evidence that had led to this discovery, with Spencer taking the lead as he mentions its possible tie to ‘scrupulosity,’ a type of OCD centering on religious obsession.

As you continue though, and you know you shouldn’t take it to heart, but the way that Gideon’s constantly questioning your ideas and not Spencer’s was starting to make you feel uneasy. As if you were a bug under his careful scrutiny.

Or was it the way that you sat?

Granted, there were only three chairs in the area, so you had absentmindedly sat on the bit of the desk that had been uncluttered. No one else seemed to be bothered by it, and certainly not Spencer, who had cleared the area nearest to him just for you.

So what…?

Being the non-confrontational kind, but not one to be pushed around, you take a mental departure from the discussion and start thinking about what else could be useful to the case. Bringing something new to the table that’s relevant.

You try to think if there had been anyone that stood out to you. Spencer had mentioned religious obsession, and the call from earlier definitely supported the idea, but you couldn’t single out one theology student that would fit that criteria.

You tried getting up from where you sat. Pacing has always helped you gather your thoughts, but you didn’t even need to take those few steps when you felt the cold sweat run down your back.

And it seemed like Gideon had noticed it. “What is it?”

You turned to slowly face the rest of them. “I think I know who it might be.” You groan as you think about it.

“And it’s not a he.” If you thought about this too late and another fire is happening right now–

—-------

It wasn’t until you were on the flight home that you felt like you could breathe easy again. You didn’t have to be near Gideon anymore, giving you the side eye every time you were the least bit close to his protege.

You could just exist silently while you think about what to write in your report.

It wasn’t Spencer’s fault, nor his mentor’s, you thought as you stared at the somewhat empty file in your hand.

You’re sure that Reid didn’t mean to take credit for the theory that you had essentially spelled out for him, and you’re also sure that Gideon was just a little uncomfortable with how unprofessional you might’ve seemed.

Looking all cozied up with his golden boy. That had to be the only reason why he practically ignored you, but congratulated the boy-genius.

You sigh and wonder if you’ll ever get on his good side. Maybe you just needed to work a little harder.

As you nod at your resolve, it's your mentor that takes a seat in front of you.

“Congratulations on your second case.” You’re still a little starstruck, getting to work with him, but you manage out a polite, ‘thank you’ as a response.

You try to make yourself look busy by rereading the other file that had been completed.

You already made a fool of yourself in front of one of your seniors, you didn't want to mess up in front of him too. Hotch could–

“I meant it, by the way.”

You look up at him again. Eyes wide in question, and perhaps fear, as you realize you don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“You were focused on that calendar more than any of us, even before we landed in Arizona. You recognized the pattern before you even knew what it meant. And that definitely helped.”

“Oh.” Is all you could say, because what else could you have said?

A small laugh leaves your mouth. He recognized you for your efforts. Made it known that he saw what you saw, and that what you saw was helpful.

Without the usual mention of the boy-genius.

It was a moment just for you.

A moment where you vowed to work harder. Smarter.

And the moment you knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner was the best leader that you could ever have.

“Oh and agent?” Both you and Spencer look back to see your supervisor, but you see that it’s you that he’s singling out. “A private word, if you please.”

You nod without a second thought, despite not knowing what this other meeting could possibly be for. You were just as clueless as you were about the one earlier.

What you weren’t clueless about was how you felt towards your situation. You had been assigned to work with Spencer so often that you were starting to get sick of it.

Not a slight to his company at all, on the contrary! You actually enjoyed it! He was a fascinating and accomplished young man that charmed his way into your heart with his little fun facts and references.

And if that weren’t enough, Morgan hadn’t exactly coined the nickname “pretty boy” just for laughs.

Dr. Reid lived up to that expectation.

With his soft brown hair, bright, inquisitive eyes, and how cozy he always seemed in his clothes— how could anyone dislike him?

No, it was the attention that you were getting that was starting to frustrate you. Or perhaps the wrong kind of attention, would be more appropriate.

Lately, it seemed as if you were only being treated as an extension of Dr. Reid. As if you were always attached at the hip, and that you always knew where he had to be and what it was that he was doing.

You don’t know where all this came from. Not even a little bit.

All you know is that it was slowly starting to rub you the wrong way, and that you wanted a semi-permanent departure from the situation.

But that didn’t happen because Spencer had just unknowingly shut down your only chance.

You digress, and put your feelings aside for now. You were at work, after all.

“What did you want to discuss with me sir?”

Hotch makes the effort to clear away his desk for a bit, and places his hands on top of it. Grasping them together as he looks at you with his usual stern expression.

“We’ll be issuing you a gun soon. You’re qualified to own one after having enough hours on the field, and you’ve shown a respectable record, so please keep that in mind.”

Your eyes widen in glee. Those were just a few words, but you couldn’t help how your heart swelled in pride at them.

It wasn’t the gun that you were happy about, it was what it represented.

Being issued a gun by the bureau signified that you were officially part of the team, and that you were deemed a responsible enough member of the organization to be trusted with it.

You should be honored to be given this chance and yet it felt sort of wrong— something didn’t sit right with you.

“Sir, with all due respect, while I’m thankful for the opportunity, I don’t see why I’m being issued a gun when Dr. Reid has still yet to have one.”

He sighs at that, as if he had hoped that you wouldn’t ask, but he tells you anyway.

“Dr. Reid has failed numerous firearm qualifications and will be retaking his test soon.”

You nod slowly, still not quite seeing the relation between the two scenarios.

He sighs again, but this time, with a small, tight smile.

“We’ve been thinking that it would instill more confidence in him if you knew your way around a gun. He seems to have a great respect for you, and seeing you have one might help him a bit.”

You smile at that and respond good-naturedly. “Duly noted, sir! I’ll make sure he has the confidence that could rival even Derek Morgan’s.”

He shows you a polite smile and dismisses you promptly. Getting back to his stack as you nod and you make your way to his door.

It shouldn’t bother you, and it doesn’t, you think.

A job’s a job.

If it wasn’t going to be you, it was going to be someone else. You just so happened to have been given this particular job due to the presumed rapport you had with one another, and you saw no problem with that.

You trust your boss, and it’s not like you dislike Spencer, so it shouldn’t bother you at all.

And yet it does, ever so slightly, when you see Morgan and Elle, crowding and cooing around him like he was a baby when you make it out of Hotch’s office.

You’re confused at what it is that you’re feeling, but you hear something akin to the word, ‘math.’ What could they be teasing him about now?

“Is something going on here?” You hope they don’t see how hard you’re trying to keep a straight face. Looking to and fro.

You’re at work now, and you can’t let your emotions get the best of you.

"Was just caught trying to add my stack onto pretty boy's plate." Morgan says with his usual chuckle.

You detect a slight hint of something else hidden somewhere in there, probably another inside joke that you weren’t in on, but you can’t bring yourself to pay it any mind.

So you let out a small, ‘hm’ to let them know that you heard what he said, and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

You don’t see the way Derek shoots you a knowing look.

And you don’t see the way Spencer looks at you longingly either. Too busy burying yourself in another stack of files, sure to go overtime once again, to drown out the unknown feeling that was welling up inside you.

Did you hate Spencer Reid?

“Isn’t it amazing he knows what he knows and he’s only twenty-four?” Gideon huffs out and gives Aaron a small smile in response.

“Imagine what he’ll know by fifty.”

It’s times like these that you remember that he does have the capability to smile. Well of course he’s smiling, his surrogate son looked like he was having the time of his life, blowing out those trick candles.

Everyone crowded around him.

Everyone but you and the two seniors.

You want this moment to be something that everyone can enjoy, and you know just how much it would sour Gideon’s mood if you were right over there. So you opted to take your place right next to Hotch.

And Hotch seemed to notice that.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of them?”

You really don’t want to answer that right now. Not when the reason is staring right back at you, waiting for your response as well.

“I can see the party just fine from here.” Is what you settle for, and look right at Spencer’s still heaving back to make a point.

Before he could question it any further, he’s called to the other side of the room where a phone call was waiting for him.

Reid takes the opportunity to excuse himself and take his place by Gideon’s side.

“You having fun?” The elder asks and he nods slowly at that.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.”

He punctuates each pause with a tight-lipped smile and a snark that is just itching to break free and you can’t help the little chuckle that escapes you. As it happens however, you quickly try to hide it behind a cough and a cover of your mouth.

You’re right next to Gideon, you need to look professional, you think, no matter how cute or ridiculous Spencer might look.

You quickly try to find Hotch with your eyes to ground yourself. Trying your best to zone out and not pay attention to the conversation happening right beside you, but it’s getting increasingly harder to do that.

“I wonder where the cake was from.” The younger one asks absentmindedly, but you feel the twitch of your fingers at the question.

Gideon subtly looks over to you, but he doesn’t answer him. Instead asking if he made a wish yet, which quickly changes the trajectory of Spencer’s questions.

You let out a breath of relief, but the moment is short-lived when you see the solemn expression on Hotch’s face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.” You put your game face on, and quickly excuse yourself from them to grab your go bag.

What you didn’t see was that Spencer had failed to notice Gideon’s gaze because he had been looking somewhere else.

He had been looking at you. Waiting for you to greet him with a happy birthday like the rest of them did. You were the only one that wasn’t there, after all.

But you had already been looking at Hotch, and that, he notices.

***

The more cases you work for the BAU, the more you realize how much of your work isn't just the investigation anymore.

You feel it when you still see the victims’ faces when you close your eyes.

Feel it in the hammer of your chest when you have to face off another degenerate with a gun.

Feel it in the tenseness of your shoulders when either Spencer, or Gideon, or Hotch, or any of them are looking at you because if they even have the slightest idea that you’re not doing fine, you’ll lose your place on the team.

If you even had one, that is.

It was a strange position you were in. Everyone was expecting you to be boy-genius’ sidekick or something. Having all these ideas of you being someone bigger and stronger than you really were.

Someone that was smart enough to show him just where to look, but not smart enough for the rest of the local PD to listen to because for some reason, it was more believable when it came out of Dr. Reid’s mouth.

You still remember how Morgan rolled his eyes at you when you corrected him. ‘It’s a ballad, actually. Not a poem.’

What’s worse was that the only person that didn’t seem to have this expectation of you was Spencer himself because he had no idea that any of this was even going on.

He didn’t ask for this.

He was just doing his job, just like you were.

You’re officially off duty, now that you’re on the flight back to Quantico. So you unfortunately no longer have the excuse to shut away your feelings for the sake of your profession.

You sigh and figure that maybe a little shut eye could help, but that idea is completely thrown out the window when you hear the soft pads of rubber-soled shoes shuffling on the jet’s carpeted floor.

You look up to see the less than comfortable posture of one Dr. Spencer Reid. Obviously caught between trying to go back to the main space, and just staying near the tail where you were.

Your heart warms at the sight and you invite him over.

You were thankful that he took up on your offer.

Even under the harsh lights of the craft, you still notice just how soft Spencer looks. Even softer now that he’s donning your gift, and rambling on and on about how cool the color purple was to him. Gesticulating with his hands in a frenzy and you relax for what feels like the first time in months.

If you didn’t work together, you realize, you could’ve been a lot closer. He’s everything that you liked about a guy. He was smart and sensible, with a childlike wonder for anything and everything.

There was an endless amount of things that he could accomplish, with a brain like that.

And he was only twenty-four.

He was just like you, so why weren’t you closer? You ask yourself this as you sigh out, but you immediately find your answer in the form of his and your mentor looking right back at you. Whispering amongst themselves and occasionally shaking their heads.

Looking just like they had earlier when you had brought in Spencer’s cake before the rest of BAU had showed up for duty.

You know that there’s no way Reid can see them. Not when his back is quite literally turned to them, so you opt to ignore it. Maybe it was all in your head.

And maybe working with him so often wasn’t so bad.

After all, how could you hate Spencer Reid when he’s this happy from just a scarf?

You see the scarf again, soon enough.

Maybe a little too soon.

The BAU had received an urgent call to McAllister, Virginia to investigate the supposed work of a satanic cult. Two bodies that had sustained identical blunt-force trauma to the head were recovered, one skeleton and one fresh, but the team was debating the involvement of the cult in the case.

“You're saying that there's no such thing as devil worship?” Elle asks with disbelief, but is quickly answered by Gideon.

“Not at all. But most of the satanism that we've seen is juveniles damaging property, desecrating churches, cemeteries,” He shrugs a little as he pauses.

“Besides,” you add. “Satanists, removed from religious stigma, are just ethical hedonists. They reject the perceived oppression of the Christian community by building their own, and indulging in more worldly pleasures. They’re not inherently violent.”

The elder nods at that, and you feel a bit proud of yourself in that moment.

“And to my knowledge, there has never been a proven case of a satanic ritual killing in the United States.”

“Well, maybe there is now.”

***

The scene is certainly interesting.

Gideon, Reid, JJ, and you were curious about the state of the older body, so you had made your way down the steep slope to check up on it. You get acquainted with the local sheriff while you’re there too and he explains that they found the body when they were doing their own investigation.

Just seventy-five feet away from where they found Adam.

“It's a man. The male pelvis is more narrow and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped, as opposed to oval.” Spencer announces as he prods at the body’s clothes with a stick, but he is immediately distracted by another element.

“Melted wax?”

“Candle wax?” JJ asks as she leans forward a bit to see it too. Spencer agrees.

“Candles are used in rituals.”

“They’re also used on birthday cakes.” Gideon is no longer interested in the scene and looks for something else that could be nearby.

You, however, notice something different about the body. You were expecting it to look different.

If you were blitzed from behind, gravity tells you that you should fall forward. Chest on the ground.

But this skeleton’s chest was facing up.

“Actually, they were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year. As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual.”

You nod, seemingly not paying attention, but you add on to that. Much to Spencer's delight.

“Yeah, they thought that evil spirits lurked around the days of major changes so they lit candles for every year that had passed. Anway, sir, do you happen to have a good picture of Adam’s dead body?”

The sheriff narrows his eyes at the two of you, then looks at JJ who only shakes her head with a smile.

“What kind of kids did you bring out here?”

***

You’re surprised it took you this long to actually feel like you needed a gun.

Hotch, as always, had paired you and Spencer together.

Again.

But this time, it was to go out on the field.

You had been left behind with him to continue searching the Jenson’s house. To look for anything that could concretely point to the group being responsible if the case ever went to court, but you and Reid found nothing.

And it was expected that you would find nothing. You and him had agreed that it was just far too convenient if you did, but then that kid— Cory— He asked you two to check the abandoned house farther up.

A house that you’re pretty sure not even his father knew about.

And that’s when you got the idea. It was dark, law enforcers weren’t nearby, and you were trying to trace the tracks of an unsub that lived in an area only locals wouldn’t get lost in. You had every right to feel nervous.

Especially when you had that sinking feeling that the unsub was the one guiding you right where he wanted you to be.

So when he led you to a house that had the goth kids’ insignia written in bright, red paint, you knew that you had to play along.

But you also knew that whatever may or may not have been up there, the team wouldn’t want Spencer to see.

You didn’t want him to see.

So you look back at him, and nod. Giving him a look that told him that you would check the house alone, that you had a plan, and that he should stay exactly where he was until you gave him the okay clear.

By the time you got back down, he knew you saw it.

You saw the girl, and you knew you had to get Spencer out of here.

Fast.

“Was she in there?” Cory grabbed you by the shoulder, and you could only gulp.

You had to think quickly, but you were also still so shocked to see her in– whatever state it was that you saw.

And then this kid was just pretending like he didn't know jackshit about it.

“She was in there.” Was all you could breathe out, vacantly looking past the kid that eventually let you go.

You instinctively reach for your phone, speed dialing Hotch, but the service was so bad up here that it wouldn’t even go through. You had to clear the area, in case this goes haywire.

With no other choice, you said what you thought could get him out of there.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ”

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.” Looking dead into his eyes, he still doesn’t relent.

You need to calm yourself down. The more he thinks you’re not okay, the more difficult it’s going to be to convince him to leave.

He whispers your name as if it’ll persuade you. Grasping your shoulders like Cory did, albeit more gently.

“Right now, you’re experiencing an acute stress response, also known as the fight-or-flight response. It would be much safer for all of us to–” “Do as you’re told.”

He freezes, but he’s still looking right at you. Eyes shaking in what you assume to be fear or worry, but he eventually nods and leaves. Constantly looking over his shoulder at you and he trips a little because of it.

You make sure that he’s out of sight before turning back to the football-genius.

You saw the gun he wasn’t so subtly concealing in his pants, and there was no way you were going to risk him hurting anyone else. You included.

You position yourself right in front of the house. If he makes a break for it and runs in there, it’ll be game over for just one cop and one manic robber. So you try to keep the open forest his only escape route.

That’s when you start cornering him.

Telling him that you knew what the profile said about the killer and how it all seemed too good to be true. How the crime had to have been done by someone who was just as smart and connected as him.

How it could have only been done by him.

What you failed to take into account however was how Spencer would have definitely come back to check on you and report his findings.

Your heart drops as he stumbles into the fray.

Which is why you’re here right now.

Gun drawn at the kid, with his own resting right on your friend’s head.

“She shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all this, it was his run! I didn’t mean to hurt her, but make no mistake– I will shoot your boy right now.”

You raise your hands and drop your gun in surrender. Scared of what he might do to him if you don’t.

—-

You hear Aaron Hotchner shout for you as he approaches uphill and you sigh.

You’re fully expecting to hear a lecture, but not the look of deep impatience that graces your supervisor’s face.

“Agent, I hope you understood what just happened.”

You shrink under his gaze, but he doesn’t let up. “Your actions during this operation put both you, and Reid, in serious danger.”

“Sir, but we handled it. I even made extra sure to evacuate Dr. Reid from the premises, I just wasn’t expecting him to come back and–”

“But that doesn't change the fact that he had a gun on Reid mere moments before you took him down. You were antagonizing him and while you may have been successful in apprehending him, what you did also put Reid at risk.”

This was unfair.

He was talking like you hadn’t had the same gun pointed at you too.

Like he hadn't made an effort to shoot at you.

There was nothing you could’ve said that could stop him, and you acted as fast as you could but you knew Hotch wouldn’t listen to any of it.

So you stayed quiet. Nodding along in understanding as he gave you a rundown of everything that you could’ve done better, and anything that you could’ve said differently.

Things that, he said, you could’ve done better while trying to keep yourself calm.

Tring to keep yourself calm after discovering a dead body, and being threatened by someone that had your friend at gunpoint.

What’s worse is that not even a moment after Hotch left you to talk to the rest of the team, Morgan came and it looked like he had his fair share of complaints too.

“Sir Derek Morgan, I understand that you might be mad–” “Oh, so you know I’m mad?” You curse and groan out childishly, you know that, but you just really wanted to leave now.

“Kid, I get that he jumped you, but you can’t just go rogue and expect everyone else to know what you’re doing.”

You scoff.

“I didn’t go ‘rogue,’ I sent out Spencer to get backup so I could handle him myself. He would’ve been out of the line of fire. I did that to protect him–”

“No. You did that to play hero.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Splitting up and acting on your own like that wasn’t heroic. It was reckless. Do you know how much sleep he’s losing right now and how much more he’s going to lose just when all of this hits?”

You shake your head humorlessly. Why is it always about him?

You’re not responsible for knowing anything and everything about him, you’ve barely known each other for a year. Why is it suddenly part of your job description to be boy-genius' caretaker?

“He’s been having nightmares,” he says your name with a weight in it.

“Don’t give him any more reasons to stay up at night.”

And he just leaves you right there. Going up to the very guy you were talking about, who was being checked by the only medic the county had on standby. Probing to see if he was alright.

And he seemed like it. If the way his face lit up at Morgan’s embrace or the way that he smiled when JJ congratulated him was anything to go by.

Or the way that Hotch patted his back to soothe him.

Or the way that Elle seemed to be intently listening to what he was saying–

He’s not your responsibility, so why the hell should you care?

God, it just wasn't fair.

And you know that. You know that he didn’t ask for any of this to happen, and that you should be happy that he’s fine–

But you can’t bring yourself to look at him for any longer. Not when he goes to look at you with that tight-lipped smile and raised brows that makes him look like he can’t do anything without you.

Not when it’s starting to look like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Not when it starts to feel like he’s doing this on purpose.

You’re starting to hate Spencer Reid.

After Morgan knocks some sense into the camera man that had been spying on the pair, Elle is the one that gives you his camera and makes her way to Spencer first. You know exactly what should be on that film, but you just wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

That maybe if you didn’t look at it any closer, you wouldn’t see anything that could make you hate him more than you already do.

That he had been behaving and just being the good, perfect boy that Gideon and Hotch, and everyone else, seemed to rave on and on about.

But you didn’t even need a proper light to see just what was on it.

And you made sure he knew exactly what he had done.

“I– I fell in–”

“Doctor Spencer Reid!” Seeing you walking towards him with an anger he had never seen directed towards anyone before made him freeze where he stood. Cowering under your gaze.

“What in the fuck was going on inside you goddamn head, huh?” Elle had already left by then to talk to the camera guy with Morgan just a few feet away to leave you two to it.

She knew what was going to happen, and she was going to let it. It needed to.

“It was an accident, I swear! She pulled me in and I—” He tried to reason, but you were having none out of it.

“And you what? Decided that then and there was the right place to eat her face off? Might I remind you that you are still on duty and this behavior is completely unacceptable!”

If this had been you, this is exactly what you would’ve been lectured about.

But Spencer feels his brows knitting together and he shakes his head in confusion.

“You’re-- not jealous about me kissing Lila?”

“You think I’m what?!”

You cannot believe the gall of this man.

Cannot comprehend how oblivious he seems to the severity of the situation.

And for what, because some hot blonde just happened to give him the slightest bit of attention? That since the rest of the team wasn’t around, he could go ahead and play house with some model and waste all his training on the field for nothing?

You shake your head incredulously at the thought.

“I don't know just what the hell is going on in that fuckass head of yours, Doctor, but that little bone-headed stunt that you just pulled? Could’ve cost you your life and hers.”

Spencer tried to quell your anger. Tried to apologize, but you just kept going. Seemingly growing more and more frustrated at his feeble attempts.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit who you do and don’t kiss in your spare time, Mr. 187. But let me remind you of something in case that brain of yours got all scrambled from exchanging extracellular fluids with Miss Archer,”

No longer caring for his aversion for germs, because he certainly stopped caring about that earlier today, you brought your index and middle finger up to rest dead center on his forehead.

He closed his eyes and whimpered at your touch.

“You are still being pursued by a psychotic killer who is going around, shooting people in the head. We’re lucky that the guy in the bushes was just some sorry voyeur doing his goddamn job, but if it had been anyone else, you would’ve been fucking–!”

Spencer feels the contact get ripped away from him suddenly, and he instinctively chases after it.

The realization of how insane that must’ve been however, makes him open his eyes.

He sees Morgan pulling you into his chest as he strides towards Lila’s house. He sees you struggle against the hold, but as his friend keeps shushing you and repeating your name from inside, you eventually calm down and relax. Disappearing into his form as Derek’s back now faces him and he can’t see you anymore.

The boy-genius feels his heart clench at the sight. A feeling not so dissimilar to what he felt when the blonde first started kissing him.

He didn’t know what to do then. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but some small, sick part of him just wanted your attention on him so badly that he was willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

He had been waiting for so long–

But as he recalls how you were seething at him, how even though he had your eyes right where he wanted them to be, all he could feel was the heavy cloak of shame burdening him. Weighing on his form like the weight of his wet, pool bacteria-infected clothes.

And something tells him that no amount of bathing or scrubbing would ever rid him of it.

He doesn’t even notice the rest of the team coming back to apprehend the trespasser until Elle picks up the roll of film that you had dropped when you were dragged away. Holding it out for him to take.

He extends his hand out of instinct, but he crushes it soon after he recognizes what’s on it.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Is all that she says as she leaves him frozen there too.

***

Meanwhile, you were still in Derek’s arms. Crying like some young little fragile thing and you hated it.

You didn’t even know why you were crying anymore because even you knew that breaking a code of conduct was nothing to shed a few tears over.

“Come on, sweet girl, talk to me.” Morgan coos as he continues to hug you, which makes you sob all the harder. Embarrassed that an authority figure just saw you lose your shit on the job, so you shake your head no.

He’s probably going to tell Hotch and you’re going to get transferred out–

“We can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

But somehow those exact words had you spilling your heart out on to him. Doing so in such a frantic state as if this was a one-time opportunity that you were never going to be granted ever again.

So much so that all your insecurities came out of your mouth in word vomit.

How you tried so hard to do everything right. How you fought tooth and nail just to make it onto the team.

How even though you were just as young as Reid, everyone else seemed to dote on him more.

How everyone expected you to know just as much, if not more, than him so that he wouldn’t feel so out of place, and how every time that you didn’t, everyone only seemed to care because you had put him in danger.

How none of your efforts were ever noticed because they would either be overshadowed by Spencer’s, or brushed aside because it was not enough to make up for something that could’ve gotten him hurt.

And most of all, how bad you felt because none of it was his fault, and you knew you were being unfair to him.

And Morgan listened to all of it. Listening and occasionally apologizing when he knew that he had been guilty of one or two of those transgressions.

Patting your back and giving you all the comfort that he could before he knew you had to refocus on the case.

When you see Spencer again, his eyes remain low and you can’t bring yourself to apologize in that instant because you were still on duty and work had to be done.

No matter how sorry and how pathetic you felt, it had to wait.

What you don’t see is how his gaze lingers on his friend’s hand. Absent-mindedly moving up and down your arm in, what he understands to be, a protective manner.

—————

He was being a distraction. A liability. To the case, or to Lila, or to you, you’re not sure anymore, but you needed him out. So you did exactly what you were hired at the BAU to do.

You’ve always thought the art piece on Lila’s wall was bizarre. And now that you’re looking at it again with a much clearer mind, you finally see why.

You had asked for everyone in the room to take the wall apart, after gaining Lila’s approval, and you all pieced together the final clue.

A mural depicting the birth of the star that is now Lila Archer.

After Spencer points out that the man in the mural was his ex-classmate, Parker Dunley, the team sees no further reason to question his involvement and makes the preparations to leave.

Yet something is gnawing at you, telling you that this can’t be it.

And at this point? No one is going to listen to a theory you have because nobody listens to you once Spencer says anything.

So you suggest the next best thing.

“Excuse me?” Your unit chief raises his eyebrows at your suggestion, but you can tell that it’s mostly a formality.

“Sir, with all due respect, it is in our best interest to relieve Dr. Reid of his position as Miss Archer’s bodyguard. He is now a potential target, and he knows Parker Dunley best among all of you. He would be most useful to the investigation if he joined the others.”

Spencer makes no attempt to contest, wanting nothing more than to just get this over with and talk to you when it’s all done, and Lila doesn’t say anything either. Just wanting the ‘traitor’ to leave her house and never come back.

Hotch senses this and sighs. He looks over to Gideon, who looks like he couldn’t care any less, and then back to you.

“Alright then. You’re switching places with Reid. We’ll let you know if anything happens.”

He then discusses with the others that he’ll be joining JJ at the local PD while Morgan, Elle, Reid, and Gideon will be closing in on Dunley.

So that left you alone with Lila, which was going a lot easier than you had expected it to.

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend. If I knew you were a thing, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to kiss him.”

She seemed so guilty as she said it and you just shook your head, but you noted the use of the term, “try.”

“Oh Miss Archer, please don’t apologize. He's not my boyfriend. I was just really upset that he could’ve gotten you hurt when he was supposed to be protecting you.”

You move to stand a little closer to her, still keeping a fair amount of distance so you wouldn’t crowd her.

"Besides, I think he's more into you than you think."

Under more normal circumstances, you supposed that they could work. Spencer most likely only hesitated because he was holding on to some semblance of professionalism he could maintain with the beautiful woman.

In another life, maybe this would've panned out differently.

“I saw the way he looked at you, you know?” Now that interests you and you tilt your head at her.

“Like he hated me?”

Her laugh was empty as she shook her head. “You’re just like him.” Is all she said.

But before you could ask any further, a call had interrupted you.

You looked at the caller ID and saw that it was the very guy you were talking about. ‘Dr. Reid,’ it read. The sight makes you sigh.

You know him well enough that he would never call you for work, and that this must have been for something personal.

‘Stay professional,’ you told yourself, so you drop the call.

If it had really been important, someone else would call you.

As soon as you move to put your phone down however, it rang again. You checked it and fair enough, this time it was from Derek Morgan.

You bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.”

There’s shouting from his end that worries you, but you nod with a hum and end the call.

You turned back to Lila and asked her very hurriedly if she knew anyone by that name, and her reaction tells you everything.

You try to tell her that she’s the unsub and just while she’s still confused at your sudden change in demeanor, her phone rings.

She shows you that it’s ‘Mags’, her friend, and you immediately try to calm her down and ask her to keep her friend on the phone. Expressing softly, but with great urgency, that it is imperative they keep her on the line.

Just as Lila answers, you immediately dial Garcia. “Oracle of Quantico, speak if you deign to hear the truth.”

“Miss Garcia, I need an emergency trace to a cell phone from Lila Archer’s phone.”

You hear her gasp a little, reasonably concerned that you had been speaking so softly. A stark contrast to your usually strong and sure voice, but she steels her own and lets you know that she’s on it.

You recite to her Lila’s phone number, having memorized it from her manager, and you instinctively look back at her to see her still pacing on the phone.

You try to smile warmly, mentally patting her on the back for her efforts, and she nods back in response. Somewhat thankful for yours.

As you wait, you suddenly remember Spencer’s phone call from earlier. Was this why he called?

Fuck, what if he wondered off and had been calling for backup but you just dropped the phone on him?

Maggie could be anywhere. It would be no surprise to you if she had actually gone back to find Dunley to eradicate any leads that could trace back to her. What if she was–

You’re quick to tune back into your own call however when you hear Penelope halt her typing and call out your name.

“Is Lila’s address 6028 Pike Street?”

You don’t like where this is going. “Yeah.”

“She’s calling from inside the house.” You sigh, in relief? In fear?

“I’m sending you backup right now, please be safe, my love.” She says with a tremor in her voice and you drop the call immediately. Catching the attention of the blonde in front of you.

“Lila–” but then you hear a shout and a thud from another room and you shake your head. You didn’t need to ask how she got in the house because that wasn’t important anymore.

The profile was. And the profile said that it was an erotomanic killer.

You could work with that.

—----

It didn’t take long for you to find Maggie. Well, you'd laugh if you could, because it was more like she found you.

On the other end of her gun.

With Lila in her arms.

There was no way that you could stall for however long it would take for the rest of your team to get here, so your best shot at surviving this was to talk her out of it.

“Maggie, put the gun down–”

“Don’t call me Maggie, you don’t know me.” She spit out, venom in her voice as she tried ushering Lila out with her.

“I know what it’s like.”

You don’t know what the fuck you were saying, but you were panicking. It wasn’t your first time being held at gunpoint, it had happened so often that Hotch even claimed you were always begging for it.

But this was different. None of the right words were coming to you.

You had to think of a way to deal with this, fast, and you didn’t know how to make it believable enough.

“No you don’t, little girl. Don’t pretend like you do.”

“But I do!” You put your gun down in a panic and held your hands up in surrender.

“I know what it’s like to l-” your mouth went dry. “To love someone– someone that doesn’t love you back.”

You seriously don’t know what the fuck you’re saying.

Maggie laughs at what you say though.

“Well it sucks to be you, but my baby loves me. Isn’t that right?” She makes a show of tucking Lila’s hair behind her ear, but even through her fear, she denies her friend.

“I don’t, Mags.” Maggie’s jaw tightens at that.

“Yes you do, I know you do– Don’t act like you don’t, you stupid, ungrateful–” you cut her off.

“She doesn’t, Miss Lowe. And I know you know that.” She shakes her head, but still keeps her gun on Lila.

You push a little harder. “I know because I know what it’s like to love someone. To meet your match.” You approach her just a little.

She shifts the gun to you now, but you continue to push.

“I know what it feels like to get tunnel vision. Where nothing matters, not even yourself, as long as it makes her happy. Keeps her safe. ”

You look her in the eye, and you can tell that it’s not enough. You need to switch gears, but you can’t think of anything else to do.

“And– And I know what it’s like–to feel everything so strongly—so much so that you don’t even know what’s happening until it just is.”

You realize it now. It was all you

It was never about the teasing of your teammates, never about the expectation that Hotch or Gideon had.

You never hated Spencer. You just wanted to belong. You just wanted to be treated like how he was.

The realization makes your eyes water.

You didn’t even notice it, but as more and more words fall free from your mouth, all you can think about is him.

About how you’re sorry. About how you never meant to hurt him. About how he doesn’t deserve your frustrations and that everything you did was just for him.

About how you could never hate anyone as loveable as him.

You shake the thought away. Hands still up high.

Maggie’s eyes narrow, her finger twitching on the trigger. “You think you can understand me, huh? Talk your way out?”

You shake your head. “No, but I think I can reach you,”

You take a step forward.

“I thought I hated him, Maggie. I thought he was doing it all on purpose. Kept thinking, ‘we were so similar.’ So why was it that being smart was special, and made everyone treasure him, but not me? And I think, maybe–”

You take another.

“Maybe I was just scared. Scared that I wasn’t good enough. That I would always be overshadowed.”

Maggie’s grip on the gun tightens. “So what? You think that makes us the same?”

“No,” you say softly, taking another careful step forward.

“But I do think that you’re the type of person that’s willing to do anything, no matter how desperate, to be seen.”

Maggie’s expression wavers, but the gun remains steady. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” you insist. “I know that hurting Lila won’t fill that void. It won’t give you what you’re looking for.”

Maggie’s hand trembles. “I would never hurt her--”

“Yes, you will. You will because you’re a danger to her, but that can change. You don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

Maggie’s face contorted with rage.

“Shut up! You don’t know anything!”

When Maggie goes to shoot at you, you tackle the gun out of her hand. Wrestling her to the ground as you did.

You look behind you and tell Lila to hurry and grab your gun from off the floor and leave, and she does just that.

Not even sparing you, nor her ‘friend,’ a glance as she makes her escape to where you hope your team now was.

From outside, the team sees Lila holding a gun like a bomb in her hands, and running into the arms of Spencer Reid. The others that were still in their car quickly try to get out. To understand the situation, but then a single gunshot is heard from inside the house.

The rest of the team rushes in.

Due to the results of my poll, there will be a part two! One where it's all from Spencer's point of view + the aftermath of this case lol

Please let me know what you think of this one though!! Or any ideas you might want to see in the second part, or literally anything at all--

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader

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