Hands To Myself

A Sunflower in the Graveyard

Post Prison!Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Synopsis: You’re the new kid on the block— joining the BAU during Spencer’s prison sentence and since then, he’s ignored you despite your efforts in trying to start a mere friendship with him. But when all hope seems lost, Spencer seems to show his soft spot for you when a case really gets to you.

Category: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: mentions of an abduction case, mentions of violence & SA, mentions of child murder, please tread lightly! reader taking case to heart, reader breaking down/crying, spencer lowkey being cold towards reader but opens up a bit, reader & spencer being lowkey simps for each other, spencer relating to willy wonka lmao, mentions of the prison arc and spoilers for 12x21 ‘Green Light’ and 12x22 ‘Red Light’

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, so i’m supposed to be taking a break from writing but this one came out of my ass and boom this was the result- i’m really proud of it so i hope you enjoy!

A fourteen year old girl by the name of Alyssa Carter was abducted. And the stakes were high since the BAU team knew that the first 24 hours were very crucial when it came to child abduction cases.

It’d been your first child abduction case since you joined the BAU, which hadn’t been too long. But you couldn’t lie and say this didn’t affect you. Cases regarding children were the worst for you, if you were being honest.

It could’ve been the fact that children were helpless, fragile, unable to defend themselves like adults could. How could anybody treat a child in such a cruel way? This was the reason you wanted a job like this anyhow, right? You wanted to stop bad guys from hurting people. And so here you were. After pining for this job for years, you finally got it at the expense of another agent being wrongfully accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

You’d arrived in Manhattan, where you’d been searching for a preferential child molester who’d already struck twice before by leaving the bodies of the children he’d killed and buried them near a lake stream.

Alyssa Carter’s parents were in hysterics when you got to the PD, since Emily had wanted someone with a lighter touch to speak with them. You’d been good with the families of victims, always talking to them with understanding and even shedding a few tears with them because of how empathetic you’d been with them.

You’d hit the 24 hour mark and the likeliness of Alyssa Carter still being alive was unlikely. It would only be a matter of time before you hit a wall in the case. But you kept the work up, not even wanting to rest until you catch the son of a bitch. You’d been hopped on four hours of sleep and coffee when you’d found it.

The connection with all the crime scenes — a motel six in the smack dab middle of the hunting area. And with the help of Garcia, you were able to find the motel so Emily had joined you, Luke, Matt, Spencer and JJ down there.

You’d questioned the motel employee to see if there had been any suspicious characters or any sign of a young girl matching Alyssa Carter’s features and the motel employee didn’t hesitate to give you the information of a visitor that frequented the motel often.

The name Greg Taylor would probably haunt you forever as Spencer gave the name to Garcia and she’d informed you with a disgusted tone of what Greg Taylor was fully capable of and the horrible things he’d been arrested for prior to this.

You’d found the room and Spencer banged on the door and announced that the FBI wanted to speak with Greg Taylor. It was over two minutes when the door finally opened and the man, who you presumed was Greg Taylor — stood there, skinny and lengthy, tattoos covering his body, only wearing boxers and he’d looked like a deer in headlights.

Spencer had told the man to sit down, that all they wanted to do was talk with him — when you’d heard it. A faint whimper in the bathroom. You’d decided to check the room as Spencer told the man to sit down when he tried to stop you from opening the door.

When you opened the door, you found Alyssa Carter, only in a top and shorts with tear-stained cheeks and pleading for help. You quickly assured to her everything was going to be okay and that she was safe now, quickly calling JJ on your mic and notifying her that you’d found Alyssa.

Once JJ came to retrieve Alyssa, Greg tried to lie his way out of this but you weren’t letting him off easy. Soon as he stood up, you were quick to grab him and turn him around, aggressively pushing him against the wall, telling him just what a piece of scum he was.

Spencer stood there, he’d never seen you get this worked up before over a victim. You were usually the calm and collected one but he knew you were also hopped up on four hours of sleep and coffee, despite how many times Rossi had to tell you to get some rest but you’d refused to listen.

You dug your elbow into the back of Greg Taylor’s neck, like how he manage to subdue his victims. “How does this feel, huh? Do you feel powerless? Do you feel afraid? Well so did Janet MacGee, Ellie Oswald and Alyssa Carter. But we got you, you son of a bitch.” It got to a point where Luke walked in and basically had to pry you off of Greg Taylor. “Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! L/n, just back up. Come on. It’s not worth it.”

You marched outside, refusing to be scolded like a child, despite knowing how wrong it was. You stood outside of the motel and squatted down on the gravel, taking a moment as you tried to control your angry breathing. You’d never felt this heated before, especially not about an unsub. But something about Greg Taylor made you furious. Made you want to stomp the bastard’s head into the ground.

As you calmed yourself down to the best of your ability, you registered the hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles and even the words — “Are you okay?” Even jolted you into the realization that you weren’t alone anymore. You turned with wide eyes to see Spencer comforting you and that’s a surprise in itself.

You see, you joined the team when he’d been rotting in prison — you essentially replaced him for the time being. He’d been dismissive towards you, cold even since he got out of prison. And you’d no idea why, you were nothing but warm and kind to him. So, you’d taken the liberty in just ignoring him to the best of your ability. If you were paired together, you minimized your conversations to the task at hand, not even making small talk at the coffee machine or when you happened to be sitting next to each other on the jet.

It didn’t help that you also thought he was attractive. It was already tough speaking to him as it is when you found him to be intimidating due to how handsome you thought he was. You’d tried a few times to speak with him but it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. So, you stopped trying. You knew when you weren’t wanted, no one needed to sugarcoat it.

But for him to come and ask if you were okay, of all people — you never expected for Spencer to do so.

“Are you okay?” Spencer repeated. It took you a second to realize you were just staring at him. You shake your head, probably from the whiplash you were experiencing with him asking you if you were okay. “Yeah, I guess.” You end up answering.

You look up as Luke takes Greg Taylor into the back of a police car. And you take a sharp breath. It’s okay. You got him. He’ll be locked up for life. You got him. “We got him.” Spencer’s voice turns into one of the mantras you’re saying to yourself internally.

And it’s sudden. You break down crying, nearly falling forward on the gravel and you would have face-planted if Spencer hadn’t been there to catch you. Your cries echoed in your ears as you felt Spencer’s arms tighten around you in comfort. For a moment, he went stiff— almost not knowing how to hold you or what to do and not wanting to mess it up— but the way you’d melted in his touch was enough to make him melt with you and hold you as you wept.

After you’d landed back home, Spencer kept an eye on you. And even offered to walk you home so you got to your destination safely. You didn’t say a word to him — maybe a meek ‘thanks’ but other than that, not a word. He didn’t say anything either and perhaps, he didn’t have anything to. So, you both relished in the silence, in his protective nature that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you while he was around.

Once you got to the door, you looked at him — wondering if maybe he’d leave soon after. He stayed standing right there and well, you didn’t want to send him off just yet, if you were being honest. You didn’t feel ready to.

“Y-You can come in,” You offered with a small shrug. “If you want.” Spencer nods at you and you unlock the door and open the door to your apartment.

You take off your coat, walking into the kitchen and placing it on the chair in front of the table. Spencer takes a look around your apartment, the scent of autumn hits him like a wave and he notices your knick-knacks around the apartment. The bookshelf intrigues him, quick to inspect it as he spots the classics such as To Kill A Mockingbird and 1984, suggesting you were a fan of English literature. He even takes notice of your VCR under your TV and the stacks of films next to the VCR— spotting tapes like The Princess Bride and Grease, also telling him that you’d liked classics and that you weren’t exactly living under a rock.

He knew that maybe he shouldn’t be profiling you the way he was doing now but everything about you was interesting. Which was why he was keeping as far away from you as he could. He was already breaking his own moral code by being here at your apartment, afraid to damage you with his ignorance.

Spencer looks over and finds you, trying to preoccupy yourself awkwardly, like you’re trying to casually deal with the fact that he’s in your apartment right now.

“I…” You quickly turn as Spencer finds his voice. “I can leave, if you want me to. I don’t have to stay.” You shake your head, dismissing the idea. “No, no, I want you to.” You find yourself admitting and Spencer bites his lip as he stares at you and you look like a deer in headlights at your eagerness. “I… I just…” You shut your eyes at the embarrassment of your next sentence. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The words repeat in Spencer’s head. I just don’t want to be alone right now. And you chose him to accompany you in your time of need? Why him? He’s far too damaged for you. No good for you. But you didn’t even ask. He chose to be here. For you.

“But you can leave, if you want to.” You say, trying not to sound disappointed in your tone but Spencer can definitely tell you are, which is why he removes his brown satchel strap from around his neck and places his bag on the floor. “I won’t leave. You need somebody and… well, I can be that.” No matter how much he wants to run for the hills.

So, you opt for offering him a drink— which he declines and you ask if maybe he wants to watch something while he’s here. You decide to put on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (since you’d discovered he’d never seen it before and well, him being uncultured just won’t do) and change into some comfy clothes and relax while he’s here.

Spencer had never seen you in casual clothing before. In your baggy sweatpants and argyle wool sweater and white socks— you looked ethereal. He’d never seen you in such a domestic light before. His stomach churns at this, the fear of getting too close to you is strong. His Adam’s apple bobs as he moves closer towards the arm of the couch, maintaining as much distance as possible between you two.

You don’t seem to mind or pay attention to the distance, at least— more so paying more attention to the film you’re watching instead of him and Spencer sits there, trying to pay attention but he can’t — not while you’re sitting next to him, at least. He figures the longer he can stare at the screen, the more he’d be able to focus but he can’t. He really can’t seem to focus around you.

As Spencer watches the scene of Augustus Gloop getting stuck into the chocolate pool, he’s finally enthralled with the film — of course, it’s totally unrealistic because how does Willy Wonka manage to have a pool full of chocolate and why are the parents of these children that were chosen full entrusting into this strange man? But in a way, Spencer finds himself relating to the whimsical man in a sense.

“I don’t know why kids affect me a lot.” You find yourself speaking halfway through the movie and Spencer then turns to you. Catching as you’re deep into thought, like you’d been thinking for a while now and you were just now voicing it. “I don’t have any of my own, I don’t know any kids. It’s just…”

“They’re young,” Spencer finds your voice, adding to your segment. “Defenseless.” He’d remembered this conversation with Morgan before he’d left. When Little Hank was a mere baby in Savannah’s stomach and how Morgan started taking these cases regarding children to heart. Spencer wondered if that had a play into Morgan leaving and he knew it most likely did. And he told him the same thing he’s telling you now.

You shake your head, “You just don’t do that.” Your voice is quiet and soft, Spencer’s not sure he’s ever heard you this quiet. Usually, you’re loud and bubbly and happy-go-lucky. He’s never seen you this sad before. But he’s discovering now that he hates it.

“What matters now is that we caught him,” Spencer tells, looking into your eyes as he speaks carefully. “And that Alyssa Carter is home now with her family.”

“Not to mention a load of trauma.” You add with a small sniffle. “What she went through—” Spencer looks down. “That’s hard for anybody. But she’s gonna make it. And she’s alive. What matters is we did our jobs and Greg Taylor can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

You bite your lip and you nod at that. Spencer was right. You did your job, you got your unsub, you saved Alyssa Carter. You’ve done everything right. And you need to stop beating yourself up over it.

After that, you and Spencer don’t talk again. And by the time the movie’s over, Spencer looks your way and finds you asleep on the other side of the couch. He smiles to himself, happy that you’re getting the rest like you deserved. He stands up, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV and looks over towards you.

You’re peaceful as you sleep and he’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more angelic in his life. Looking at the throw blanket on the couch, he grabs it and throws it over your body so you can sleep comfortably and he looks down at you a moment longer.

He’d pushed you away. He had to keep you at this distance because he was afraid of hurting you. Prison had broken him down beyond repair. After all the crap he had deal with Delgado, this whole catastrophe with Scratch, which ended up being Lindsey Vaughn and Cat Adams. Having to deal with inmates, threatening his identity and beating him up every chance they got.

And then he met you. And you were the complete opposite of what he was now. You’d extended your hand, you gave him a big grin and the whole ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ schpeal when you’d first met. He thought you were beautiful, inside and out — that’s how Garcia described you at least when he’d found out about you on one of her visits to see him in prison.

But he’d simply waved with a tight smile and said it was nice to meet you and walked away. After that, you tried with him, trying to say and asked how his day went but he often dismissed— only dealing with the small talk. And he’d kept his distance, not wanting to hurt you but little did he know, his absence just hurt you more.

The day you walked into the office and decided to ignore him, grabbing your coffee next to him and going about your day without a word — sent a sharp pain in his heart. He supposed that things were better now that you ignored him, that he’d finally gotten what he wanted. But this wasn’t what he wanted at all. And he knew that deep down.

And when he saw you tonight, how angry you were, how you didn’t get any rest until the case was solved, he’d wanted to comfort you. He wanted to comfort you in a way he needed back then. And when he saw you squatting with your head in your hands, he found his opportunity and he refused to leave your side until he knew you were alright. And he’d stay for as long as you liked him to.

But he didn’t want to intrude while you slept, he’d had no idea how you felt about him staying the night — no matter how much he’d like to in entirely different circumstances— so he decided the safe bet was to leave. He didn’t want to leave with no goodbye, so he’d left you a note and left your apartment quietly.

When you woke up the next morning, you found the note on the table in front of you and smiled warmly as you read it.

Y/n,

I didn’t want to wake you, so I saw myself out. I hope a good night’s sleep is all you need to feel refreshed. Adults usually need seven to nine hours a night. Anyways, I‘ll see you at work.

-Spencer :)

Hmm… perhaps the Dr. Spencer Reid, the man that barely talked to you, that hardly looked your way, that you’d found attractive regardless of everything that was wrong with him… wasn’t so cold after all.

Let Me Stay

Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer have gone back to normal, somewhat. But it only takes one conversation to ruin that all again. All you wanna do is stay, but he won’t let you.

Category: Angst

Warnings: not really a happy ending, established past relationship, maeve arc, mentions of death and suicide, takes place during 8x17 “The Gathering”, mentions of 8x17 events, spencer being a lil sad shit, crying, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, it’s just really sad, let me know if i missed anything! <3

Author’s Note: here is part two to “when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light”! it’s short and sad 🤗 might make a part three???

part one

After helping Spencer, things were back to somewhat normal. You’d both bumped up from only talking on cases to the occasional small talk near the kitchenette or asking how each other’s days were going when you both were in the elevator on the way to the bullpen.

Everyone seemed to notice the change but hadn’t said anything to indicate that they knew. But then you’d heard Garcia gossiping about it in her office the other day to Morgan.

“Can you believe it? They’re finally talking again! Isn’t that great? Small talk can lead into something more! Maybe they’ll finally get together again and my ship will sail!” She’d fangirl and you shook your head with a small chuckle escaping your lips. (She was always so hell-bent that you two would eventually get back together).

Not that you didn’t agree with her, you always hoped you’d get somewhere with Spencer again. You just didn’t know when you could. He was still in mourning over Maeve and you knew he needed time to heal before dating again. You’d wait forever if you had to, unfortunately.

He still seemed quiet during most of the cases or would bury himself in his work to avoid feeling his feelings. And you couldn’t say you blamed him, because if it were you, you’d do the same thing. You have done the same thing. So, with understanding, you left him alone. And you were waiting for him to come to you.

And then you had that case in Minnesota. Your unsub was Peter Harper, he had stabbed women and pulled their tongues out pre-mortem. And you knew that him pulling the tongues out had some kind of significance to him. The disparate set of women victims was chosen at random until they discovered one connection between the women and it was that they all have a very strong on-line presence, their deaths telegraphed by stories in their own online blogs, messages or texts.

They’d finally found him at a public pool, ready to throw a woman in the pool and to wait for her to drown and when the team finally found him, he’d had a knife to his neck, ready to kill himself. You and JJ tried to talk him down off the ledge and told Peter he’d get help and that everything was gonna be okay. But then Reid had spoken up, telling him the truth and the total opposite from what you and JJ were saying.

Peter had killed himself shortly after that. And Reid walked off in frustration. You and JJ shared a look, wondering what the hell that was about.

You’d gone back to the office after filling out your paperwork. You were ready to go home, to relax and to wash the stench of this case off of you. And while you were packing up, you’d overheard Hotch and Reid’s conversation nearby. You knew Hotch was questioning his decision with telling Peter Harper the truth — that it wouldn’t get better, that it was gonna be hard to get help.

And when questioned about it, Reid’s answer was simple. “Well, Hotch, I thought the last time I was in a situation like this, I did exactly what I was supposed to. I told a perfect lie and that didn't work, so this time, in the hopes of saving someone's life, I tried something different.”

And then it was clear what this was about. Maeve. And you’d known that he still wasn’t over her. And of course, it really hadn’t been that long since she died, the wounds were still raw.

When you saw Reid abruptly leave the convo between him and Hotch and head towards the elevator, you knew to follow immediately. You’d worried a lot about him since what happened with Maeve. And you guessed that you just wanted him to be reassured that he had someone in his corner.

“Spencer,” You called in the parking garage and he’d turned around at the sound of your voice and could tell by his sigh that he was in no mood to talk with you but regardless he stopped.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk right now—” And you should’ve just left it at that. But you pushed, like you always do. Instead of walking away, you interrupted him. “I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk, but you know what you’re gonna do? You’re gonna listen.” Spencer crossed his arms, obviously in defense mode as you continued.

“Spencer, we have given you time. We have been there for you thick and thin and all we wanna do is help—” This time, he interrupts you. “Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help? That maybe what I need is just a little bit of space?”

With that, he walked off.

And you’d officially had enough.

“Do you really think that you are the only person in the world who has lost someone?” You exclaimed and Spencer stopped in his tracks, his back still facing you. “Well, you are barking up the wrong tree because — newsflash, Spencer — you are not the only person who’s lost someone. When I lost—” You pause, not wanting to say his name. “I was… such a wreck.”

You gulp, deciding to continue, hoping your words were getting somewhere with him. “And you helped me, remember? I never would’ve gotten through that if you hadn’t of helped. And I pushed and pushed you away but you didn’t leave. You stayed. All I’m asking is to let me stay.” You walk over to Spencer and he looks down at the ground, avoiding your eyes as you choose to stand in front of him.

You bow your head, wanting to meet his eyes as you put a waiting hand on his soft cheek. You move his head to look at you. “So, let me stay.” He can see the tears forming in your eyes as you practically beg him. His eyes gaze over to your lips before quickly going back to your eyes.

“Please don’t shut me out when all I wanna do is help.” You tell him and instead of nodding and listening to you and asking you to stay, he walks away. Because if he stays any longer, he might kiss you. And you don’t deserve that. Not right now.

He walks away, leaving your heart in pieces and you in shambles. He chose his path, so you must take the same route and forget you’d ask him to let you stay.

Silver Springs

Blue, green colors flashing…

You have always been in love with William Lamontagne Jr., ever since the two were kids. There had never been a moment where the two were apart. Growing up, you both swore never to be apart and it really wasn't hard to do, considering you two were next-door neighbors. You were thick as thieves, both even deciding to take the same career path in both being police detectives.

And as you two grew, your love for Will didn't falter once, despite how freaking oblivious Will was. To him, you were like a little sister and that worked for him since he was an only child.

He never once saw you for what you longed to be… his. And you wondered if he’d ever see it at this rate.

Spencer Reid had a crush on Jennifer Jareau. But he wouldn't say he was in love with her. Considering, he had never known what love was.

The statistics showed that chances of finding love with someone you're compatible with are slim — therefore he didn't believe it. JJ made him question the odds. He had taken her to that Redskins game just a few years ago and he tried but in the end, she just wanted to be friends. Of course, he respected that but he just hoped that maybe one day she'd change her mind. Maybe he was worth being with in the end— even when he didn’t think so. Especially after what happened with Tobias Hankel.

But you and Spencer had something in common. You were both in love with your best friends. And your best friends are both so oblivious, it's killing you two softly. And before you can take the plunge and admit your bogus feelings, it's already too late.

Because Will had found JJ.

And JJ had found Will.

Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me…

series coming soon???

joyce : hopper and i are getting married!

eleven : what is "married"?

hopper : it's what two people do when they both love each other very much.

*later on*

eleven : hey, mike? when are we getting married?

mike :

I Lived x Dead Fictional Characters

i love this so much ❤️

“It gets Stranger”; a crossover!

i’m crying this is so soft 🥹

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐩𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader  Category: comfort, fluff Summary: Your insecurities hit you on the morning after, but Spencer's reassurances keep them at bay. Content: 1.4k words, implied intimacy, established but still new relationship, adult acne, insecure reader A/N: based on this request! Anon, you gave me free reign and I have to deal with adult acne, so I just projectile vomited that insecurity onto this reader. I hope it’s to your liking, feel free to request something else if not (and go ham on specificities so I can better write it for you!) not proofread oops.

It’s silly really. Insignificant. Half the time, nobody can even see. But right now, bathed in the soft light of the morning after, when consciousness begins to creep in your body, you realize that Spencer is right there in bed with you. His warmth registers first, melting away your anxieties of him somehow leaving in the morning. It’s another irrational thought—why on earth would your boyfriend leave you the morning after your first intimate time together? Yet it remains there, lingering like a coiled snake ready to strike, coaxed away by the confirmation that he stayed, he’s here, a large hand running up and down your spine. That’s what registers next, the fact that he’s awake. Before you. Lazily mapping out the expanse of your skin and suddenly, the anxiety returns, shoving past the momentary reprieve you’ve felt when you realized he’s here.

He’s here and awake before you. Touching you, mapping out the planes of your body like he did last night. 

Except this time, your bedroom is lit by the soft rays of the sun, exposing every single thing the darkness had previously concealed.

Every scar, every stretch mark, every imperfection on your body. It had been hidden last night by the dark and ignored by the pressing desire between you two. You had planned to wake up early, get showered and ready and out of bed—making breakfast preferably, to fend off suspicions as to why you’ve left the comfort of the bed. But it must have been his strong grip on you, or perhaps you were just too tired from the long night of lovemaking. Regardless, you’d overslept. And he’s awake before you, probably counting every single mark and flaw on your body as though they were demerits to who you are as a person. Each scar is one less point on the scale of desirability.

“Angel,” his breath ruffles the hair at your temple, “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not.” coyness. Wit. You’d manage to secure him through a combination of this and your intelligence. Maybe it’ll be enough to distract him from the mars on your body.

He laughs, warm and languid from sleep, “I didn't know you sleep talk.”

“Mhm,” you hum into his shoulder, nuzzling into the space where it meets his neck. A small space, but it seems made just for you to tuck your head into, “Now you do. Is this a deal breaker?”

“I have to think about it,” he murmurs. He brushes his hand over your back once again, fingertips going over each bump of your spine as if he's trying to commit each bone of your body to memory. As fingers ghost over your skin, the blanket slips off even more and you inhale sharply. You don't think you reacted that much, but he notices anyway. He always does.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You tug the blanket up again, a total contradiction to your answer.

He scoffs softly, tenderly, lips coming to rest on your temple. A teasing lilt in his voice when he says, “A little too late to be shy around me, don’t you think?”

You laugh, keeping the blanket stubbornly around you. Too terrified by what the light will reveal, from your body to his reaction.

“Sweetheart,” he coaxes you with slow fingers and soothing kisses, “Tell me what’s the problem. Do you regret last night?”

“No!” you look up at him with wide eyes, horrified he’d even think that way, “No, Spencer, of course not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

He raises his brows in response, wordlessly telling you he doesn’t buy your bullshit at all. The expression he wears is patient, completely halcyon despite your childish attempts to duck through his questioning.

With a sigh, you relent. “It’s just—you’ll see all my scars.”

“You saw my scars last night.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

How do you say yours came from something so… mundane? Acne that you’d picked on so much that when they’ve healed, the  marks have become too deep and too stubborn to fade. His scars come from valor, injuries sustained from bullets and knife wounds as he works to save the world. Yours seems so insignificant, something that should have been erased quickly after puberty, left behind to be nothing but memories, just as you did with high school. 

But the acne never truly left, chasing you well into adulthood, and the compulsion to pick at them never stopped either. 

“You still with me?” he rubs his nose along your jaw like a kitten seeking warmth. 

You exhale a laugh, “Yeah…”

“I’d rather you tell me what’s bothering you because you want to, sweetheart, but I’m not above tickling you to get an answer.”

God, not tickle torture. “Mean,” you chuckle again, relishing the way his curls twist around your fingers as you run your hands through them. This is Spencer, though, you’re safe. The words spill out in a rush, as if you’re hoping to expel them from your body in the fastest possible time, “I just have a lot of acne on my back, is all.” 

“Mhm?” he hums, patiently waiting for more.

“And it’s—it’s not pretty.”

A kiss to your jaw, down your neck.

“And I know I’m too old to still be having acne, but I do. And there’s a lot on my back and—” the words waver as another kiss lands on your throat. “Spence.”

“What?”

“Are you listening to me?”

He pulls away at that, eyes glinting like molten gold in the early morning sun. “Of course I am, angel. You shouldn’t be worried about acne, they don’t magically stop after puberty. Especially in women, where factors like genetics, diet, hormones, stress, and the menstrual cycle all contribute to how your body produces oil.”

You can’t help but laugh at his earnest reply; of course he’s turning to science to help you feel better. “You don’t think it’s gross?”

He scrunches his nose, “No, why on earth would I think that?”

“Well, some people conflate pimples with being dirty.”

“I just enumerated several other factors, none of which involve dirt,” he replies, ducking once again to leave kisses along your collar, “Admittedly, bacteria build up is another factor, but I’ve seen your toiletries, angel, I know you’re not dirty.”

“They’re just… annoying. I dunno. There’s so many scars.”

“Post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation is also normal,” Spencer murmurs, “Really, your body is just working as it should, angel.”

“But they’re not… pretty.” It sounds so vapid, admitting it like that, but Spencer only softens.

“Is that what matters?”

“No,” you pause, trying to articulate why this complicated relationship with those silly marks all over your body is making you so skittish around him, “I just don’t want you to look at me any different, I guess.”

He frowns, “Why would I look at you any different?”

“Because my body’s not… flawless.” you wince, realizing that it sounds almost like an accusation; you’re saying he’s shallow enough to be put off by something as insignificant as scars. However, Spencer merely chuckles.

“Nobody is flawless,” he counters simply, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “A few scars don’t take away from how intelligent you are. How funny and charming. How endlessly creative. It doesn’t take away your kindness, or your patience.” he kisses you with every word, slowly chipping away at your anxiety and the traitorous voice in your head.

“Stop it, you’re bad for my ego.”

“Better that than to tear it down.” he says, finally giving you the sweetest kiss on your lips, “I won’t force you to show me if you don’t want to, angel, but I hope you know they won’t ever change the way I feel about you.”

But after such tender words, how could you not? Despite the pounding in your chest, you turn around, the ultimate act of vulnerability. Trusting him not to hurt you as you look away. You feel his fingers ghosting over your back once again, tracing the scars. And then warm lips press upon your shoulder.

“You know what they remind me of?” he whispers, wrapping an arm over your waist. You’re drawn into his embrace, warm and snug and loved.

“What?”

“Constellations.”

You giggle, “Constellations?”

“Mhm,” he laughs as well, “Like your own personal star map.”

It’s silly, and maybe a little romanticized, but at this moment, they’re exactly the words you need.

thank you for reading! my requests are open <3

Silver Springs : Prologue

Summary: It’s your best friend’s wedding day, a last minute wedding planned and you’re supposed to be happy for him. But you aren’t. And you aren’t the only one.

Category: Angst

Warnings: brief spoilers for 7x24 “Run”, reader is lowkey down bad for will, lowkey Love, Rosie reference, some tension between everyone tbh, wedding themes, wedding speeches, drinking champagne, addictions/alcoholism mention if you squint? unrequited love RAHHH

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! here is the prologue hehe😋 special thank you to @beenreidingaboutyou and @thegloryofliterature for proofreading this and correcting my mistakes because i didn’t notice them (sick brain is no bueno) i love you both so much <3 anyways yes the prologue is taking place in s7– sue the fuck out of me🤷‍♀️ every chapter is lowkey taking place in a different season (still working out logistics here) real ones know i actually posted this fic on wattpad and didn’t know what the fuck to do with it oops anyways sorry here it is hopefully more soon!

You could be my silver spring

Your mother would've scolded you by now. Your mother would've scolded you for a lot of issues at this wedding. Having your mother's voice in the back of your head, you looked down at your lap, your thumbs fiddle together as you place your hands down into your lap. It was something you did when you were stressed. And you were stressed often.

But how on Earth could you be stressed at your own childhood best friend's wedding? This was the happiest day of his life and it may as well have been yours.

Maybe because of the fact that this was a last minute wedding? Maybe because you had prior to this — pulled Will into a different room and told him that he was making a mistake and revealed your undying love for him an hour ago before the reception?

No, certainly, not.

You watch from a distance at the happy bride and groom sitting with one another at the table. Will could barely look at you, he had kept eyes on his wife. Of course, how could he not?

Jennifer Jareau was the epitome of gorgeous. And you were not jealous, no. You loved JJ, she was perfect for Will. They worked out together. Of course, in the pit of your stomach, you couldn't help but feel sad and numb whenever you’d seen them together. As pathetic as it sounded.

You would think that after years of them being together, that sinking feeling would've gone away. You would think that maybe you would've moved on by now since they'd already been together and had a child together. Of course, you couldn't blame your godson for this mess that you were currently in. Only yourself.

Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut? You thought to yourself as you brought your head into your hands. Now, he hates you and thinks that you hate the fact that he's married now! You looked over at the couple again, the pit in your stomach making your face drop low as you felt your heart burn in dismay.

Spencer was watching, too. He watched the married couple as he took another swig of the champagne glass in his hands. He didn’t drink often, only on special occasions. He knew you did too, but he knew your history. You didn’t drink unless you were stressed.

It was bound to happen. Jennifer Jareau and Will Lamontagne Jr., even their names sounded good together. He knew that he never stood a chance. Did he fully believe that he and Jennifer were true twin flames? A twin flame involves two people who share the same soul, of course. Once these twin flames meet, this results in an intense, magnetic attraction and connection. These individuals share similar past experiences and trauma. The answer was yes, he did.

Spencer had gotten over this crush years ago, but there was a part of him that longed for a future with JJ. And now that was done. He could no longer pine for her. This was something that he had to move on from. The wedding guaranteed that.

The man's eyes then trailed over to the woman who also stared. Of course, you were there, staring at the two sadly, something you’d done so often, it was a habit by now. You probably hadn’t even realized it.

There was something about you that intrigued Spencer Reid when you were around. The fact that you’d spent years in love with the groom and when he thought you were finally over it — here you were, in the same position you’d often found yourself in. Or that he’d find you in. It nearly irritated him, almost. How could you do this to yourself? Over and over again and expect a different outcome? I mean, what did you expect? Truly. That Will was gonna drop everything for you?

But he couldn't blame you. In ways, he'd often understood and thought that you holding on was admirable. You never gave up. It was something he lacked when it came to relationships he cared about the most. It’s not like he did it on purpose, he just wasn’t as connected as you were. You’d known Will since childhood.

Your eyes locked with Will’s. And they lingered for a moment, and before you could even question if he was thinking of you, his eyes immediately snapped back to the blonde woman next to him, his bride, his everything, the love of his life.

You didn't know what to think now. You should've backed off. What did you think Will was going to do with that kind of information? Drop everything for you? Leave his bride and child? What did you expect?

Foolish, you were...

But not as foolish as you were being in this very moment as you stood up from your seat with your heart in your hands.

Spencer noticed this before anyone else had. He noticed how you smoothed your silk green dress down with your red polished nails that you were previously picking at before and as you picked up your half-full champagne glass and a fork as you tried receiving the attention from those at the wedding to deliver a speech.

Before this mess started, you had promised Will that you would say something at the wedding. You had promised the speech so who were you to deny that at your best friend's wedding? Even in your rough patch with him at the moment, you’d be his biggest supporter.

You plastered on a fake smile as you stood in front of everybody, after finally gaining their attention. You looked at your paper that you had sitting on the table, a splotch of wine from earlier still remained stained on the corner of the paper. "Hello, everyone!" You spoke, cheerfully to the best of your ability.

Great, now you were a deer in headlights as everyone stared at you. You could tell that some knew who you were, while some didn't. "Um, for those of you that don't know me... my name is Y/n L/n…" You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and looked down at the paper in front of you and could barely maintain eye contact with the groom.

"I want to start this off by saying that... this..." You gesture to the wedding itself. "... has got to be one of the happiest days of my life."

Spencer watched you carefully as you spoke. He could read the fake smile from a mile away. In the time he'd known you, he knew when you were genuinely happy and when you weren’t.

Your eyes were drooped down, it was evident you were crying earlier. There was a wine stain on the bottom of your dress that you had tried to wipe off with a paper towel and failed. A person from a far, far distance could notice that you were a wreck. And at your best friend's wedding of all places.

The bride and groom didn't notice, obviously enraptured in one another.

You looked down at the paper in front of you before you continued to read and reminisce on the actions that led you here. Maybe if you had changed something, maybe if you had done something different. Maybe if you admitted your feelings that night Will stayed over, could this have been your outcome? Your wedding?

It wasn't.

The traitor watched as you, the one person he loved like a little sister — up on her feet and falsely smiling down at her paper.

Once looking up at him, Will, the traitor – you took a deep breath and your smile faded away again. Spencer noticed as your breath hitched in that moment. Will always made you anxious, especially now more than ever.

All eyes were on you but you looked right at Will, with guilt in your eyes, and wondered how the hell you two had gotten yourselves in this position?