Welcome to the official masterlist of SilentWonderLocks! Down below are different fics, drabbles or prompts written by me for the public. It will be updated as I post! Asks and Requests are open! I write for nearly any fandom but ii love to write for Resident Evil, Criminals Minds and other media like it! Below are links to my other works and masterlist for said media!
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Thank you to everyone whose been showing love to 5 Langs, 1 nerd! Its one of my favorite works ive written this year, and I cant wait to produce more for the hungry people 😋
This is the masterlist for any fics involving any works dedicated to the Criminal Minds works done by me. Mostly will be Spencer Reid unless requested
Spencer Reid:
Ambrosia's Kiss (Ongoing Series) : Taking place one year after Maeve's death, a case involving an unsub obsessed with Greek Mythology may help bring the reader and Spencer closer together in more ways than one.
5 languages, 1 Nerd (One Shot) : 4 times where the Reader heard Spencer speak a different language and the one time where he told her what it meant.
Summary: 4 times where the Reader heard Spencer speak a different language and the one time where he told her what it meant.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!Reader
Warning: None that I can think of
Words: 7,821
The divider is made by @firefly-graphics, and the cover image is mine.
Its body was a bright blue, with spots adorning the edges of the wings. The spots had colors consisting of black, white, and a rust-like hue. The nerves were still there, Spencer cleared his throat before speaking out
“Reid!” You called out in a hushed tone, trying to get his attention from across the bullpen. Spencer had tried—keyword, tried—to ignore your calls as he failed to keep his focus on the current book in his hands. On the same page, he had already read three times. Finally tearing his eyes away from the book to look up at you, Spencer raised an eyebrow at you. You were halfway bent with your hands on your knee, staring at something on the windowsill. He said nothing as his face just scrunched up slightly, for one of the newer agents to join. You intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. Which he would never do, not if he wanted to deal with the constant teasing from Morgan.
“Reid! Come on, before it leaves!” You egged him on, your hand waving him over eagerly. Your eyes are glued to the window like a child seeing snow for the first time. Spencer sighed reluctantly, closing his book, not needing a bookmark. He knew where he had left off anyway—ten minutes ago, when you first started calling his name.
“What is so important?” He asked, standing next to you, close enough that he could smell your perfume. A lavender and vanilla, a pleasing scent to his nose that caused his stomach to twist. Have you always smelled so good? You had only been there for a few months, but that didn’t stop the puppy dog crush from forming on you.
You quickly hushed him, placing a finger on your lips. You turned to meet his eyes before pointing to a butterfly. Spencer's eyes narrowed in confusion, you brought him over to look at a butterfly? A red-spotted purple one to be specific. It was peacefully relaxing on the windowsill, its front legs twitching now and then. It seemed to be cleaning itself.
“It’s just a limenitis artemis astyanax, they are common here.”
It was your turn for your face to scrunch up as you listened to his words.
“A Limenitis artemis astyanax. Huh..sounds Latin”. You asked, giving him a curious yet confused grin. Spencer chuckled softly, a small smile forming on his face. He could feel his nerves rising as he began to explain himself.
“A limenistis artemis astyanax is the scientific term for a red-spotted purple butterfly.”He answered by observing the little creature.
“Did you know they are called 'brush-footed butterflies' because they are known to stand on their hind legs and curl up their other ones?” You shook your head with a smile, soaking in his words.
“That’s amazing, I’ve never seen this kind of butterfly before. It’s so pretty…” You whispered, your eyes sparkling with a bright wonder.
Another twist in Spencer’s stomach hits him much harder this time as he begins to stare at you. It was sweetly endearing to see you in awe over something as simple as an insect; it made his heart melt a little.
The sunlight was in the perfect spot, hitting your face perfectly, highlighting all of your features. Spencer nearly forgot you were both at work as he continued to stare at you. You were something else and that was something he could get used to. His brain seemed to shut off as the next words slipped out of his mouth.
“Tu pulchellus dolet..”
“Huh? What does that mean??” You asked as the butterfly flapped its delicate wings and soared upwards leaving the two agents behind.
“Oh, nothing important.”
You swore you could feel your brain scraping against the side of your skull. The heavy pressure behind your eyes wasn’t helping either. A small groan escaped your lips as you got into a more comfortable position on the couch. Being sick was one of the things you hated the most, it came with horrible migraines and nearly no sleep. That’s how you found yourself on the couch, watching TV for the past day and a half. You hadn’t been to work, not wanting to get your co-workers sick but also you couldn’t do your job properly with a raging headache. Thankfully Penelope was kind enough to stop by and drop off a little care package for you. It was filled with super soft tissues, medicine, a container of homemade soup as well as other necessities.
The low noises from your TV were a small comfort as you tried to distract yourself, occasionally stopping to close your eyes. The damn pain medicine wasn’t helping either, which you assumed was because you weren’t sleeping. You winced as another tang of pain came as the laugh track played from the show. Maybe it was time to heat some of the soup from Penelope.
Just as you found the energy to sit up and turn off the show, a loud set of rhythmic knocks rapped on your door making your head pound into agony. You held your temples lightly rubbing into tiny circles as you stood on two wobbly feet.
“Coming” You called out, your voice a mixture of stuffy and raspy.
Once you finally made your way to the door, each step made your legs feel like jelly. You opened it, revealing Spencer, his eyebrows already furrowed. His hazelnut eyes analyzed you before you could even speak.
“Spencer? Why are you here?” You asked with a confused expression as you held your head with one hand.
“Tonight is movie night.” He says simply with a confused expression, like a kicked puppy. Movie nights were your special hangouts; you or Spencer would pick a movie and watch it. His were mostly foreign ones. You didn’t mind that since he would translate them for you. There was always something about his voice that drew you in.
“Spencer, I'm still sick, I don't want to get you sick too.” You explained, wincing as you spoke. Each word was like another stab.
Spencer's frown deepens as he looks you over. You looked like crap, your hair was a mess all razzled and tangled. Dark circles indicated you weren’t sleeping; you were barely keeping yourself standing straight. He could tell you were using all your energy to keep your balance. He watched as you leaned heavily against the doorframe, one hand rubbing your head.
“Garcia said you were sick, but I thought you would be better by now…”
You smiled weakly at him and shook your head.
“I should be okay in a day or so, it is just my head killing me.”
“...go sit down,” Spencer suddenly snapped. The idea of leaving you alone when you looked like you could drop any moment? That didn’t sit well with him, and he was too stubborn to leave you alone.
“What?”
“You..you look like you're going to collapse before me. Go sit down..please?” His tone was much softer than before, his concern clearer than before.
Silence washed over the two of you. You were stubborn and wanted to tell him to go home, and you would be fine. But on the other hand, it was sweet knowing that Spencer cared for you. You let out a soft sigh, feeling your head throb again, this time making you hiss in pain.
“Okay..” You wobbled away from the door, back to your little fort full of blankets and pillows on the couch.
Spencer wasted no time following you inside, closing the door. He walked over, watching you. His head tilted to the side as he watched you lie down and close your eyes. Your mouth was slightly open as you took deep breaths. Your face was scrunched in pain, which made his heart ache.
“Have you taken any medicine today?” His eyes narrowed in slight annoyance as you shook your head in response.
“Why the hell not?” His tone became firmer, as his worry grew.
“Took some last night..thought it would go away on its own.”
Spencer huffed out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a scoff. He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Where’s your medicine?”
“...bathroom cabinet.” You knew there was no fighting with Spencer when he got into moods like this.
Within a few minutes, Spencer sat beside you with a glass of water and a pill bottle. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he shoved the water glass into your hand and then handed the bottle. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his slightly childish reaction, and smiled weakly once more.
“Thanks, Doc.” You teased, popping two pills into your mouth, then gulped down the water. Spencer said nothing but just watched with a satisfied expression.
“So what movie were we going to watch?” You ask, closing your eyes again, praying the meds would work fast. You slowly raised your hand to go and rub your forehead when you felt another hand do it for you.
The first anniversary of you being a part of the team had passed and to you, it wasn't much. You loved the team, despite the paperwork and cases. They made it worthwhile but to you. Being there for a year meant nothing; you were finally getting your footing and maybe in 5 years would feel more worthy of a celebration.
Spencer, on the other hand, thought the opposite. The year spent with you on the team flew by faster than he expected, but it didn't stop him from cherishing the 347 days, 499,680 minutes, and every second with you. You have stuck with the team longer than most new agents who come and go. To Spencer, that meant you were permanent. You were staying, staying with the team, staying with him.
He had been jittery all day, sitting at his desk. His right leg bounced up and down excitedly and anxiously, pen gripped tightly in his fingers as he tried to finish this paperwork for a recent case. Spencer mentally cursed at himself, trying to calm his nerves. He had nothing to worry about; she was going to like it…he hoped.
After ten long, self-tormented minutes, you had finally walked into the bullpen. His head snapped u,p meeting your fond gaze and smile. In your hand was a cup of coffee for him and a cup of tea for yourself. Right. It was your turn to get the drinks today. Act normal, Spencer told himself as he tried not to immediately run over to her and hand her the gift.
Spencer returned the smile, he felt like a kid on Christmas trying to not reveal their proudest gift.
“Morning Spence, I got your favorite” You responded, handing him the warm cup, your fingers lightly brushing together.
Gratefully taking the cup, he took a moment to smile at your handwriting. It was simple black ink that swirled his name but he loved it. The aroma of black coffee hits his nose and he waits no time to take a sip.
“Mm..thank you. Hey, you know what yesterday was?”
Spencer watched as you scrunched up your face, confused. He could feel his heart beat faster at the way you made expressions. Another one committed to memory.
“Uh..Thursday??” You said with a questioning tone while Spencer grinned and shook his head.
“Guess again.”
You raised an eyebrow while you enjoyed the banter and games. You were genuinely confused.
“Oh crap, it was not someone's birthday was it?” You asked suddenly, scared, you had been working so much, you were afraid you had forgotten a birthday.
You felt relief once Spencer snorted softly and shook his head.
“No, but it was a special day!”
You smiled at him, placing one hand on your hip as you sipped your tea.
“Issac Newton's birthday??’’ Spencer let out a slight gasp.
“Firstly, that's Sir Issac Newton to you, miss, and that's in January!! It's April”
Both of you smiled and laughed softly, wiping away a fake tear. You shook your head.
“Alright, you stumped me. What was it?”
Spencer grins widely, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he pushed himself back, the chair rolling back slightly. You watched in more confusion as Spencer bent down to rummage under his desk for a moment. Soon Spencer sat back up, placing a neat white box on top of his desk. There was a silver bow on the top of it with a lilac tag, in his messy handwriting, encased with your name.
“I..what's this for?”
Spencer felt nervous all of a sudden, the words struggling to reach his tongue. His hands felt sweaty as he tried to speak normally.
“Your first anniversary of being here with us..” His tone was slightly vulnerable, as if he had just revealed the world's secrets.
He watched as your face softened into a touched expression as you smiled at him.
“Oh Spencer, you didn't have t-”
“I wanted to! I mean..uh you're a part of the family now..I wanted to show my appreciation of you..and our friendship.”
Friendship..the word felt like a poison on his tongue. The whole year spent getting to know you, working long nights together, beloved movie nights, and late-night talks when neither could sleep. The morning routine of taking turns getting coffee for the other, It stung him how your scent would linger after being close to you. He wanted nothing to just ramble and spill about how much he truly adored you. Truly loved you more than a friend but he held his tongue.
Spencer felt his heart speed up as he saw your genuine smile and the glassy look in your eyes. If you were going to cry, you were good at holding back. You didn't know how to respond, all you could do was just stare at the gift in awe.
Like an eager child, Spencer gently pushed the gift towards you. An invitation to open it.
With gentle motions, you carefully lifted the lid as Spencer watched with quiet excitement. Shock was the first emotion that reached your eyes, then awe. Your free hand came up to cover your mouth as you processed the gift before you.
Inside the box was the first photograph that was taken of you and the team after one of your first breakout cases. After the unsub was caught, the night was spent with drinks and laughter. It didn't take long for a drunk Penelope to suggest a photo for the night.
There you were sandwiched between Emily and JJ, while the rest of the team swarmed in their respective places. It was a messy photo, with no coordination at all, but that's what made it more special. The best part was how it was fitted into a sleek and simple black frame.
Spencer watched as your hands shook as you picked the photo frame, tentative fingers touched along the glass. The dazed expression on your face told him all he needed. You loved it.
Holding it to your chest for a moment, you looked at Spencer with grateful, glassy eyes.
“Thank you..”
Spencer did nothing but beam at you. He was more than pleased with himself. He wanted to be the one to make you feel like this all the time. To be seen and appreciated.
“Hey Spence, what does this writing mean on the back of the frame?”
His heart stuttered in his chest for a moment, his hazel eyes drifting down to the messy handwriting on the back of the frame in bright gold ink.
“benvenuta in famiglia”
Clearing his throat, Spencer began to explain.
“Well, you mentioned before how you said Italian was a beautiful language, so I had Rossi help me with some of the wording. It said, “Welcome to the family.”
Spencer paused momentarily as he said it out loud, then felt his cheeks heating up slightly.
“Sounds..cheesy when I say it out loud..”
“Heh, maybe a little, but I love it, I'm gonna put it on my desk!” You said in a soft tone, rushing to your desk.
Spencer watched as you quickly made space for the newly treasured photo. A proud and happy smile on your face as you gaze towards him. You felt at home, and so did he. He smiled to himself as he whispered a few words under his breath.
“Mia Dolce Ragazza”
The coffee table beside him was littered with organized chaos, cups of coffee all empty, along with about two stacks of files. The papers threatened to spill from their tan prisons. His ID badge was haphazardly thrown among the clutter. Currently, he wasn't assigned to a case, but that didn’t stop him from taking cases home to research and examine more closely. His eyes were red and sore, and wet residue trailed down his cheeks. Spencer blinked for a second, trying to hold back more tears that threatened to drop. Inhaling a deep breath, so hard it nearly made him choke.
It was nearly 2 in the morning, and it was quiet besides the soft stabs of ticks from the grandfather clock in Spencer’s living room. The room was dark and barren from light as Spencer stared at the ceiling. Another restless night, too many memories, too much remembering. He held his hands together, his thumbs twiddling as he suffered in his thoughts. The clothes from earlier this morning felt tighter than usual. The couch he was lying on, his limber and lanky limbs hung over the edges. At least it was comfy for the most part, despite. His legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but he made no effort to move.
Spencer didn't dare to wipe his tears, letting them drip down to soak his cushions. His body ached, and his mind pounded with stings. Spencer tried to forget, he always did, but this time was different. You had a date earlier tonight, and despite Spencer acting like it didn’t bother him. It did. The sparkle and excitement in your eyes as you gushed like a teenager about the night in store.
Spencer felt his jaw clenching and tensing as he imagined how it went. Did the guy make you laugh and smile? Did he treat you like a gentleman and make sure you were put first? Did you like him? Even kiss him goodnight after dropping you home? His hands tightened on their hold as he kept imagining the scenarios, wishing it were him instead. The hurt and jealousy quickly turned into self-degradation.
Tick. Tock.
Of course, you had a date with someone else. Why would you like him more than a friend? He’s the genius weirdo of the BAU. The rumored freak dropped on the FBI’s doorstep. Spencer wasn't oblivious. He could tell how people saw him or treated him, how his looks got him far before people got to listen to him. They got to know the real him, the annoying walking encyclopedia. Spencer knew the BAU loved him and accepted him to a point, but at the end of the night, He was home alone while they were off with their loved ones.
You were different, a crush that blossomed into a great friendship, but now he was yearning from afar. Spencer was a selfish man, but he wanted her to be happy and well. Yet at the same time, he wanted to be that man for her. Who was he to take away that happiness from her? Spencer let out a defeated sigh as he slowly began to scrunch his legs into a curled position on the couch. Unlocking his hands to wrap his arms around himself, slowly closing his aching eyes. Maybe he could get some sleep tonight, a thought he doubted.
Tick. Tock. He’ll go to sleep eventually.
He’ll wake up again, and she won't be his.Tick Tock.
“I’ll be okay.” Spencer spoke, slicing the silence with a choked and broken whisper.
Tick To- Ring Ring
Spencer’s eyes snapped wide open, and his heart pounded in his chest.
Ring- Ring
His cell phone was ringing, despite the ache and pain in his limbs. Spencer shot up quickly as he reached down into his messenger bag on the floor for his phone. Furrowing his eyebrows as he struggled to read the name on the screen, then widening once he realized it was you calling him.
With a swift press of a button, Spencer brought the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?” His voice was filled with exhaustion, yet a small tinge of relief. Despite what he was going to hear, he was just happy to listen to your voice.
“Hey, you up?” Your voice was filled with the same exhaustion, with another emotion underlying your tone.
Spencer’s eyes gazed over to the stack of files. “Yeah, I’ve been doing some late-night reading,” he spoke, feeling his body move on its own to sit up straight, swinging his legs in front of him and hunching over.
“Are you doing okay?”
“The date didn’t go well.” Spencer frowned, hearing the distant tone in your voice. The closed-off demeanor you usually gave the criminals, not him.
“Oh, I'm sorry about that,” he answered timidly. “ You know, 25% of first dates don't lead to a second date, especially if it’s online; the number is drastically higher, around 80%. So maybe it just wasn't meant to be.” Spencer paused for a moment, then continued. “Are..are you okay?”
“Thank you.” Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion at the unexpected praise.
“I.” You paused the weight of your next words pressing down.
“For what?”
“For being you, Spencer.”
“...i dont know who else to be.” Your behavior was starting to worry him.
“I kept thinking of you..” You spoke quietly.
The silence was loud and long before you finally let out a noise. It sounded like a cry bubbling to the surface. He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the sweat begin to rise upon his skin. His heart thundered in his ears as he called out your name.
It felt like a huge punch to his gut, and he felt a huge wave of nausea hit him. Spencer sat there, unsure if he had heard you correctly. The grandfather clock ticked in rhythm with his heartbeat as he processed this. He took a moment to swallow the harsh lump in his throat.
“The more the date went on, he began to talk about his travels around the world.. The different cultures and places..
“You..what?” Spencer responded like you were a wounded animal, cautious not to scare you off. He was just as terrified, maybe more.
There was a pause of silence, the tension only growing with each passing second. Your voice rang in his head like a never-ending echo. What did you mean by that? His stomach was twisting and churning harshly, and he stood on shaky legs. His body moved on autopilot, pacing around the room as he waited for your response.
You spoke with a careful tone as if you were walking on glass. There was a shaky breath before you continued.
“I kept wishing it was you there instead.”
A sucker punch to his already pounding headache, Spencer swore he could feel his brain smack against his skull as he processed the words. You kept the blows coming.
“I just thought about how you would tell me about how the cultures started with the artwork in the museums, the beginnings of the dialect and languages. I'm just rambling, aren't I?” Your tone was softer, tinted with embarrassment.
Spencer frowned on the other end of the phone, quick to cut you off. His voice was slightly high-pitched and frantic from the nerves rushing through him.
“No! I meant no, you're okay. I just..” He trailed off before taking a deep inhale and exhaling through his nose. The phone in his hand felt sweaty, ready to slip at any moment.
“What are you trying to say?”
“I like you, Spencer.”
“Spence? Are you there?” You sounded worried.
This had to be a dream; this couldn't be real. He must have passed out on the couch long ago from exhaustion, and now his subconscious was giving him bittersweet taunts. Spencer took a moment to close his eyes, and he rubbed his sore eyelids with two fingers. His dreams were never this detailed, though. He didn’t know how long he was frozen in thought until he heard your voice ringing in his ear.
“Y-yeah. I am..” He trailed off before continuing.
“You..really mean that?”
There was a pause on your end.
“Why wouldn't I?” Spencer frowned at your simple saying. The genuine confusion in your voice made him feel weak as he stood.
“Because I'm weird.” He said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, a tint of self-degradation in his voice.
“And? I like that you're different, Spencer. The way you speak so passionately when you lock on to a topic, or the way you carefully use your fingers to touch each word as you read. The way you awkwardly smile when you first meet someone new.”
He heard you hold back a soft snicker, the corner of his mouth slowly curving into a little smile. Spencer felt the weight cracking on his shoulders bit by bit.
“I like you too. More than I probably should, honestly..you make me feel safe and it terrifies me..” He spoke carefully as he finally took an aching seat back down on the couch.
“What?? Why??”
“Because I like you, you make me feel like I belong at work and outside of it. It's just..”
Spencer trailed off as his brain couldn't comprehend how to continue. One of the smartest men on the planet was reduced to the IQ of a goldfish.
“I guess that's something we'll figure out along the way. I would..like to try though if you want to.” Your response was simple yet considerate. It made his heart swell.
“W-what if we're wrong for each other? I don't want to lose you as a friend and as a partner..” He finished off in a murmur.
“I would like that very much. ” Spencer said, his little smile turning into a fond one.
The tension before was lifted with a newfound air of relief and wonder. The weight from before completely crumbled away.
“Hey, you mentioned that your date went to different places? What was one of them?”
“Uh, Russia mostly, why??” Spencer grinned behind the safety of the phone as he spoke in a bold and heavy accent.
“Of course, you know where I live, I also know where you live.”
“я буду мечтать о тебе сегодня ночью” He grinned wider when he heard your tired laugh.
“You uh gonna tell me what that means?”
“Hmm maybe one day,” A light tease in his tone as he tried to hold back a chuckle as you groaned lightly.
“I know where you live.” An empty threat, but one that warmed his heart happily.
“Yeah, text me when you wake up?”
Soft laughs exchanged between the two of you, until a little yawn was heard. Followed up by a small noise of exhaustion and your voice.
“I'm gonna head to bed, Spence. I’ll see you tomorrow, or I guess today?”
Spencer’s grin softened into a smile as his stomach churned with happiness sprinkled with nervousness. Of course, he was going to see you tomorrow, if it wasn't nearly 3 in the morning now. He probably would have asked you to come over now or vice versa. He knew, though, that both of you needed sleep after this long night. He could wait a bit longer to see you.
“You got it, pretty boy. Goodnight”
“Goodnight, I hope you have sweet dreams.”
Closing his eyes with a smile on his face, Spencer shifted into the cushion, letting his body sink in and get comfy. The exhaustion worked fast; every part of him was heavy as he lay there happily thinking of you and falling asleep, hoping to have dreams of you and your new chapter together.
“You too, Spence.” The disconnected noise rang in Spencer’s ears as you hung up for the night.
Releasing a breath of disbelief, Spencer took a moment to stare at the call log in his phone. Your name is the first one, and the call duration was 45 minutes. It certainly didn't feel like that, but time with you always seemed to pass by quickly. He ran his hands through his disheveled curly hair as he placed his phone face down on the table. Then proceeded to lie back down in his original position on the couch. Too high on dopamine to even care about his aching limbs and his pounding headache as he replayed the phone call in his mind perfectly over and over again. The ticks of the grandfather clock are easily ignored now.
He would be lying if he didn't say he loved the little lunch breaks or the jet rides home with your sleepy head on his shoulder. But you deserved more than that, a real date where you didn't have a time constraint. One where you could just enjoy each other's presence and truly get to know each other on a more intimate level. He had just the idea.
“Sooo, are you gonna tell me where we're going??” You asked as you watched houses and trees swipe by from the passenger seat of Spencer's car. He barely drove but nearly begged you to let him for tonight specifically. How could you say no to those puppy brown eyes of his?
Spencer smiled as he watched the road, trying to hold his nerves and excitement back. Even after one month together, it felt unreal, but it was a dream Spencer didn't want to wake up from anytime soon.
“I think that ruins the surprise.”
You let out a grin as you turned to face him.
“So no hint?”
Spencer smirked, turning to look at you, your eyes sparkling with affection and mischief. He chuckled softly and shook his head before looking back at the road.
“No hint, can't have you guessing it before we get there.”
A small huff of disagreement was heard, only making Spencer grin wider. You had a habit of guessing or putting together clues quickly when it came to surprises. Garica learned that the hard way when she tried to plan for your birthday, you bribed her with a cute kitten figurine, and that's how you figured out how the team was taking you to your favorite restaurant to celebrate. Still a great night, but Spencer wasn't letting you win this time.
Your expression softened from one of playful annoyance to one of confusion.
“I hope you like it.”
“Why wouldn't I like it?”
Spencer's grip tightened on the steering wheel, sweat already forming as he tried to pull his thoughts together with stumbling. A habit he was getting better with around you.
“You..” He started, then trailed off before taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.
“Because you deserve the best..and I.. I know im not the best and I w-wanna make up for tha-”
“Stop it. You make me happy, Spencer, and that's enough.” Your voice cutting through his self-deprecation, he turned his head slightly to eye you.
You smiled at him, reaching a hand over to gently move a piece of his hair out of his face.
“I trust you, okay?” He smiled gently at that, grabbing your hand gently and holding it within his own. Your fingers intertwine. A small reminder that this was all real.
“Thank you..” This was worth it, you were worth it.
Another 20 minutes had passed on the drive, filled with both of your off-key singing harmonizing in a discordant duet. Neither of you cared, though, you did get confused when Spencer began to drive into a park and up on a trail.
You looked out the window. It was dusk when Spencer had picked you up from your home, and now it was dark outside. The shadow silhouettes of trees littered with fireflies that glowed like twinkling lights. The inside of the car was filled with soft music from the radio, and gentle classical notes created a peaceful silence.
Turning your gaze to the dirt path, you watched as the car's headlight led the way to an outlook clearing. The light shone on the old, weathered wooden railing, preventing cars and people from going off the edge. Spencer parked the car with your side towards the railing, and you raised an eyebrow as you heard the metal clinking of him unbuckling himself. So you did the same and began to exit the car.
Once out of the car, the cool night breeze hit your face. Crickets could be heard singing nearby as you looked over the railing. It was pitch black, but you could make out a steep hill that led down to the big city below. It looked like paintings made of colorful spots and beams from this distance. Dots of blues, whites, yellows, and red splattered across the horizon, a combined illuminating hue surrounded it.
The purring of the car's engine rumbled into the night's air as you stared in awe at the view. You mostly stayed in the city, so you didn't know there was a view like this. Honestly, it surprised you more than Spencer knew of it.
Spencer stood next to you, his hand in his pockets, fiddling with his fingers. He bit into the inside of his left cheek, trying to say something, anything. He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, but they died out before he spoke.
“Soo, Dr. Mysterious. You didn't bring me out here to go all unsub on me, did you?” You asked, your gaze glued to the view before you, your teasing tone clear.
Spencer shook his head frantically, appalled at your attempt at a small, but there was a sheepish smile at the corners of his lips. His eyes drifted to you, watching you silently. The nerves seemed to worsen as he could feel his stomach churning as if he were on a roller coaster. You looked so beautiful and unnerved while he was melting into a pile of overthoughts.
“N-no! You need to get work out of your head tonight.”
“Well then, enlighten me,” You said, finally turning to meet his gaze. The sparkle in your eyes, a fond challenge within them.
Spencer was quick to turn on his heels, gravel beneath his shoes scattering around the ground. You watched as he made his way around the side of the car, opening the back door. Hunching over, Spencer grabs a blanket, draping it over his arm. Then he grabbed a wooden basket with a red and white checkered fabric poking out of it. Spencer moved to open the driver’s door to turn off the headlights, then turn the radio station to light golden oldies music. Closing the door with a soft click, Spencer proceeded to the front of the car, placing the blanket on the hood and spreading it out. You smiled fondly as you watched him nervously place the basket down, his hands trembling lightly as he opened the lid. He finally turned to look at you with a hesitant smile as he gestured to the little place setting he had made.
“Picnic under the stars?” Two glasses with a bottle of what looked like expensive red wine, a wooden board covered in a variety of cut cheeses, with a side of two green and red grape bundles on another wooden board.
The grapes were sweet and juicy, a beautiful contrast to the bitter red wine that coursed down your throat as you and Spencer sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the heavy night sky. Littered with stars dancing among the sea of night that gazed down on the two of you. Stark creamy bites of cheese filled your stomach as well as the butterflies that fluttered in as Spencer began to point and ramble on about the glittering lights.
“Do you even have to ask?”
“See that arrangement of stars? It forms the constellation known as Andromeda, the Greek daughter of Queen Cassiopedia, who was fated to be sacrificed to the Cetus.” His finger trailed the outline of the stars, and you imagined the form of a gorgeous woman with her wrists adorned in chains.
“Then what the hell is a cetus?” You asked, trying not to snicker at how adorable he looked. Eyes wide with purpose, his cheeks flushed a light pink from the alcohol buzzing in his veins.
“The cetus?? I thought it was the Kraken?” You said as you placed another sweet grape into your mouth. Spencer was in the middle of taking a sip of his wine when he shook his head and covered his mouth to swallow.
“Mm, a popular misconception due to the 1981 film, like Clash of the Titans. The Kraken is actually from Scandinavian folklore. In fact, the name alone comes from the Norwegian word “Krake,” which meant crooked or a malformed, overgrown tree, which inspired sailors to use those trees as early anchors. Once the rumors of sea creatures began to run amok, sailors would see squids and call them Krakens due to their tentacles being able to curl and hook like an anchor.” He rambled on, and one of his hands was moving as he talked passionately, while the other held on to his wine glass.
“Ah, it's widely known as a huge sea serpent about the size of a ship. Other cultures describe it as having the head of a boar and the body of a whale or dolphin with divided fin-like tails. The name Cetus comes from the sea goddess herself, Ceto, who was the daughter of Poseidon. She was one of the daughters who bore the most sea creatures, according to legend-”
Spencer kept rambling as you just stared at him. The world seemed to fade out as you focused on his words slowly. Your eyes focused and wide as you inhaled every bit of information your brain could handle. He looked so unbelievably free. Just rambling, not caring about the flush on his cheeks or the nearly half-empty glass in his hand.
You looked at him like he was hanging the stars while he intertwined the stories. Making meaning out of nothing, yet something so important.
Spencer turned to look at you while he rambled, but paused as he saw your expression. He could feel his heart jump, then restart. The nerves in his stomach churned harshly, then again, maybe that was the alcohol. He felt his voice die out just holding your gaze.
No words needed to be exchanged. Spencer was embarrassed, but that didn't stop him from feeling proud when he saw love strike in your eyes. You were just happy to hear him speak and learn, despite the small chance you wouldn't remember all of the information he gave you. The clear union of comfort and affection was welcomed and accepted, trapped in this little corner of happiness. Neither had noticed that the classical music had changed to soft guitars strumming rhythmically.
“Earth angel, earth angel. Will you be mine? My darling dear, I love you all the time. I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.”
It wasn't until the lead singer’s smooth voice sang out the first line that the two of you paused.
You watched as Spencer easily stood up from the hood of his car. He placed his glass down on the checkered blanket. His shoulders were tense as he towered over you, the music still playing in the background. Clearing his throat, Spencer then held out his hand towards you.
“May I have this dance?” He asked timidly.
Slight heat rose upon your cheeks; you couldn't tell if it was from him or the wine. Not worried about that, you placed your own glass down next to his, then gently put your hand into his outstretched one.
His hand slowly closed around yours, taking care in the way he pulled you towards him. He always touched you like you would break under the slightest amount of pressure. You stood up in front of him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He went to your waist gingerly.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah.”
Spencer nodded, then took the lead, taking small steps to lead you both in a simple, slow dance. Your eyes locked together, neither of you bothering to look away. Your body naturally fell into his rhythm, slow and patient.
“I fell for you, and I knew the vision of your love’s loveliness. I hope and I pray that someday. I’ll be the vision of your happiness.”
Spencer’s grip involuntarily tightened on your hand and waist. You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at his actions, making his face flush more. He gave a mock glare that held no fire, just a soft fondness as you both gently danced in the blinding lights of the car's headlights.
The grin on your face widened before you took the next step, laying your head on his chest. He froze, nearly stopping the dance altogether. You could hear his breath hitch as he tried to compose himself. Spencer's heart was pounding against his ribcage, loud enough for you to hear through his muscles and clothes.
Slowly, he relaxed, placing his chin on top of your head, keeping you close as you both continued to dance. Your held hands slowly departed, and you went to grab his waist. And his? Went to cradle your head against his chest. Neither one said anything, not wanting to break the beautiful silence. You closed your eyes, savoring each second of this night.
“Earth angel, earth angel, please be mine. Mine darling dear, love you for all time. I'm just a fool.”
Spencer pulled away enough to look at you. A soft, spoken smile graced his face, a picture-perfect moment. You could see the stars glinting in his brown eyes, the look of a strong yearning and affection. You felt the tender ache in your stomach, that soft, butterflies feeling that everyone talks about in movies.
“A fool in love with you”
As the music swelled, Spencer leaned in, finally connecting your lips into a soft and sweet kiss. You could feel his hands move to cup your face, holding you in place. His thumb gently brushed against your cheek, the hairs on your skin. You closed your eyes as you kissed back, melting in pure delight. You gripped his waist, shutting out the rest of the world. Nothing mattered in this moment, not the real monsters that roamed the world, nor the calming sounds of nature around them. Not when his lips were against yours like a dream. He smelled like stacks of worn books and tasted like black coffee, a welcome combination.
Spencer pulled away first, his hands still holding your face like a precious artifact. His gaze locked on you like a salvation he never knew before.
“I've been waiting so long to do that.” He muttered.
“Me too.” You admitted softly as you leaned into his touch.
You felt your face heat up, not just at his words but at how you felt his fingers gently rubbing your scalp.
Spencer’s lips curved into a boyish smile.
“Θα σου διαβάζω τα αστέρια μέχρι να πάρω την τελευταία μου ανάσα”
“You know every language to man, don't you?”
He watched as you fondly rolled your eyes, the smile on his face growing.
Spencer chuckled lightly with a shrug.
“And are you gonna tell me what it means this time?”
“It’s an ongoing project.” His voice was tinted with pride.
There was a pause in the air, the song long over, now it had changed back to classical music. Spencer took a breath in,then exhaled with his shoulders slumping slightly.
“I’ll read the stars for you until I take my last breath.”
That's it. You could feel your heart explode from the sheer cheesiness of his words. And yet, this was Spencer. A hopeless romantic stuck in the shell of an awkward genius. The heat on your cheeks had returned full force.
“You can’t just say cheesy things like that, Spence.”
Spencer’s smile quirked into a smirk as he leaned back in, resting his forehead against yours.
“Your face doesn’t seem to mind it.” He teased warmly.
You sputtered at the sudden cockiness in his tone, glaring at him.
“..I don't know what you mean.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow, making an “mmhmm” noise.
“Soo..does this mean I don't get a second date?”
“Just kiss me again, Spencer.”
He grinned, eyes lit up like a shining sun.
“Gladly.”
Sealing everything you both wanted into a deep, passionate kiss. Together under the stars, twinkling brightly just for them.
Welcome to the official masterlist of SilentWonderLocks! Down below are different fics, drabbles or prompts written by me for the public. It will be updated as I post! Asks and Requests are open! I write for nearly any fandom but ii love to write for Resident Evil, Criminals Minds and other media like it! Below are links to my other works and masterlist for said media!
I also have a ko-fi if anyone would like to support me over there!!
Enchant Me- {Series- On Hold} Summary: The reader is one of Thanos's adopted daughters. Raised to be harsh and cruel, you can't bring yourself to hate a certain Asgardian God when he enters your life.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three
This master list is dedicated to the Resident Evil fics, I currently have or will be writing in the future. Requests are always welcome!
Series:
Need a Hand Stranger? - Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, the merchant finds himself with an unknown man and they escape the island together.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
One Shots:
Your Own Sky - Summary: One rainy night, the reader finds themselves back at the police station with haunted memories of Wesker.
Hell is Waiting - Summary- Five years have passed since Chris took in Rose, and he's still recovering from the damage.
Summary: Taking place one year after Maeve's death, a case involving an unsub obsessed with Greek Mythology may help bring the reader and Spencer closer together in more ways than one.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader
A/n: This story is slow in the writing process but is still in the works.
Chapter One Chapter Two
masterlist ko-fi
A/n: This a story based off on the idea that Chris adopted Rose as his daughter and is still haunted by the demons of his past. It contains canon elements but it's not actual to the lore! I just wanted to write Chris going through it and little Rose.
Summary: Five years after taking in Rose, Chris gets a visit from his haunted past.
Genre: Psychology Horror
Words: 2.3k
Warnings: Contains swearing, substance abuse, mentions of death, Chris kind of being an asshole, delusions. Not proofread at all.
Enjoy and let me know what you think of this!! Thank you for reading!
It was freezing outside, cold enough that no animals dared to step afoot. Despite being early evening, the snow was extra harsh today. Creating a wall of snow as a black jeep sped through them harshly, breaking the easy peace.
You have one new message. Message playing.
Hey Chris, Its Claire. I just wanted to check up on you and your little one. You haven't been returning my calls…I know that you're currently working, but that doesn't mean you can shut me out completely. I'm worried about you, I know how you get around this time of year.. Hell we are all! Leon, Rebecca, Jill! What..im saying is you don't have to be alone with yourself..
You know how to reach me. I love you big bro, bye.
You have no more messages. Goodbye.
Chris tossed his phone on the passenger seat after listening to the message from Claire on repeat. His face stoic with slight resignation. His leather gloves held the steering wheel as he steadied the jeep on the ice road ahead of him. A deep sigh left his lungs as he thought.
He should call his sister back, update her on the fact that he was on his way home.
Truthfully, he didn’t want to bother her. Chris was the big brother, old captain of the BSAA and now captain of his own team that went “rogue” against the BSAA. He was supposed to have his shit together, and be there for his little sister. Not the other way around.
Years had both worn and toughened Chris over the years, he's won battles but lost comrades in the same breath. The sins of regret cursed his skin and mind with every passing day. He didn't expect to be saved nor did he want to. Too far corrupted and damaged for any possible fixture, especially the job is never done.
“What happened to the great Chris Redfield?”
A young voice, sharp and confident, rang in his ears. Chris ignored it at first, not wanting to give in.
“Dont ignore me, Captain.”
Pressing his foot down abruptly on the brake pedal, the jeep came to a harsh stop. The engine growled as Chris turned to look at the man in the passenger seat.
He was in his late 20s, short light brunette hair styled up like a wave. One striking chocolate eye and the other sickly yellow and bulged staring back into Chris's. Enlarged purplish veins trailed over his forehead and neck. Old rustic blood splattered over his face. Wearing an old and tattered BSAA outfit, tactical vest and all with a checkered scarf around his neck. The ghost of the man who was meant to take Chris's place.
“Piers..”
“You should really call her back, Captain. She's one of the only people you've got left.”
Chris scowled lightly, his grip on the wheel tightening with rage and despair.
“You don't get to lecture me! Not when you disobeyed orders!! Not…”
Chris paused, his voice starting to crack slightly.
“Not when I failed you.”
“I made my choice, Captain. It was for the BSAA. The world did not need me anymore, but it still needed you.”
“No, they don't.”
“So this is what the legendary Chris thinks huh? Claire needs you and so does her.”
“Shut up..”
“I feel sorry for all the men that died believing in you.”
Chris's jaw clenched and tightened as he tried to ignore the condescending words.
“It's pathetic how I let myself believe as well.”
“Shut up!”
Shutting his eyes tightly, Chris focused on the silence and only silence. Reopening them showed no-one in the car, the engine slowly purring, awaiting to start again.
He shook his head, as he started the car up once more and drove further down the road. Chris moved one hand to turn on the radio hoping to push out the voices and delusions for another day. They are getting worse each year, and each year it was getting harder for Chris to ignore. God,how he wanted a drink.
“Just a little further..” He muttered under his breath as he kept his eyes on the narrow icy road. He would be home soon.
The jeep took a right in a fork in the road, up a hill before finally parking a small cabin. It was the typical log cabin, made of wood with an awning and porch attached to the front. The wood was weathered and starting to decay in some areas, luckily, it didn't reach the foundation yet. The roof was covered in snow while the awning was covered with icicles.
Parking the jeep next to another one similar but in a deep green color. Chris got out of his vehicle. The sharp cold hitting his face, with a sigh he made his way into the cabin's front door then inside.
The living was dark only lit by the fireplace that was nearly down to embers. There was a small table in the middle between a couch and the fireplace. It was covered with miscellaneous colors of crayons paired with papers shuffled around with drawings.
Scribbles of two figures were drawn, one big and bulky man all in black with brown hair and stubble. The other is a little girl with light blonde hair and bright colored clothing. One hand reached down grabbing one of the drawings, the corners of Chris's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. Carefully, he folded up the drawing and slipped it into his pocket then patted it.
Soft creaks of wood caught Chris's attention as he gazed at the staircase. Coming down calmly was one of Chris's soldiers from Hound Wolf Squad. Emily Berkhoff, codename “Tundra”. She was in her late 20s, early 30s with bright blonde hair. It reminded him of how Jill looked back in Africa. Emily had calming emerald eyes as she gave a nod to Chris. Not in her usual outfit as she wore casual clothing. A pair of jeans with a long sleeve short and a tan jacket with fur on the collar.
“Welcome home, Captain”
He held up hand and shook his head. The title stings extra hard.
“We're off duty Emily, you don't need the formalities. How is she doing?”
Emily nodded slowly before she gave a simple hum.
“Shes doing good. We colored today and watched some Disney movies. She's upstairs asleep already”
Chris nodded slowly, his stoic expression not changing but his eyes showed appreciation.
“Thank you, you can head home. I'll be heading to check on her in a minute.”
Emily crossed her arms, staring at him for a moment.
“You gonna be okay tonight, sir? Today is..the anniversary o-”
“Of Ethan's death, I know.” His voice was rough, slight harshness to it.
There was a loud silence to the room, only broken by the little cracks of the embers. It had been five long years since Ethan had placed his baby into Chris's arms, then died, taking out Miranda and her village. Leaving him with a dying wish from a loving father.
“Watch over her, teach her to be strong..”
One last promise Chris felt he could uphold. If not for Ethan, for himself.
He sighed trying to ease the pressure in his shoulders, so they shifted. Emily watched her captain with a look of slight concern. Chris waved her off. It was bad enough for Claire to be worried. He didn't need his team to be unfocused.
“You're dismissed, Emily, get some rest.”
“But sir i-”
“I said you're dismissed Tundra, I will see you later this weekend for the next mission briefing” Chris's tone turned firm and authoritative, the leader facade back on. Emily nodded reluctantly as she made her way towards the front door.
“Goodnight, Chris.” With that, Emily walked outside, closing the door behind her.
Chris waited for the sound of the jeep starting, listening as the tires cracked the snow underneath as it drove off for the night.
Once he was sure that Tundra was gone for the night, Chris grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet, then proceeded to grab a half full whiskey bottle from on top of the fridge. He pour the amber liquid from the bottle, until it reached the rim of the glass.
Chris placed the whiskey bottle down with a soft thud. Then lifted the glass to his lips, the earthy tones hitting his nose. He inhaled deeply, the inner conflict to drown in his sins tonight. He thought about the colored drawing that was burning a hole in his pocket. With a heavy sigh, he poured the whiskey down the drain then replaced it up with water. Walking towards the fireplace, Chris tossed the water into the glowing embers. It hissed and sizzled as smoke ascended into the air. Twisting then fading into nothingness. He then headed for the front door himself, opening it and walking out.
The snow crunched and cracked underneath Chris's combat boots as he took slow strides outside on the porch. Chris's hazel, tired eyes hooded as he walked against the railing and leaned forward. The sharp cold winds lightly scraping against his cheeks, his gloved hands rummaging in his jacket pockets. One hand pulling out a beaten-up carton of cigarettes, and his other pulling out a lighter. The winds howled and screeched as it dragged particles of snow up into the air and back down again. A repeated cycle.
With practiced ease, he lifted the stick of nicotine to his lips. Using his free hand to shield the flame as he lit the end. Inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill and tar up his lungs further. A delicious poison that goes in easier with each inhale.
“I thought you would have picked up better habits, Christopher. You disappoint me.”
Chris's eyes flicked up lazily as he stared at the myth of a man only a few feet in front of him. A tall blonde man, shoulders filled with pride and spite. Red piercing eyes that glared at him behind black shades. A smug smirk etched on his face, only widening when Chris scowled.
“Go away. I don't need your bullshit today..”
“Good Ole Chris. Self-righteous as always. Tell me how it feels to watch your friends die, or how it feels to raise the little girl whose father you killed?”
“I didn't kill him..” A whisper to the wind filled with desperation and denial.
Albert Wesker grinned widely.
“Oh? Who was it that murdered his “wife”?”
He took a step towards the porch.
“That was Miranda, and it was time sensitive!!!” Chris argued back.
“Who let Ethan Winters walk to his death blindly?” Another step closer.
“I was doing what I thought was right!!” Chris nearly bit down on the cigarette in his mouth. His hands clenching into a fist as he tried to keep control.
“Right? There is no right anymore, Christopher. There is order and power. You know better than anyone els.e”
Wesker stood right in front of Chris, his grin melting away into a sickly smile.
“Who made a daughter into an orphan?”
“Leave her out of this!!”
“I expected better from you. A poor excuse for a leader, can't even keep your own men alive. I wonder who she'll grow to hate.”
“Me! Godammit!!” Raising a fist to slam down on the railing. The stinging pain wasn't enough. It shook the whole porch, the icicles nearly falling from their roots.
A rich and manic laughter filled Chris's ears as he closed his eyes.
“Such a lack of discipline.” Wesker mocked, his voice laced with venom and hate.
“With so much blood on your hands, how could she love you?” Wesker tsked as he approached, a predatory glint in his eye.
Chris sneered, his teeth feeling like they would break if he clenched his jaw any harder.
“You're not real..”
“As long as you live, I live.”
Chris shut his eyes, trying to shut out his mind. Trying to shut out the delusion of a dead madman.
“I'll be waiting, Chris. Maybe you won't disappoint me next time.”
“Next time, stay dead!” Chris nearly shouted, his chest heaving. The cigarette was nearly burned out, he could feel the slow singe on his lips. He held the top of his face with one hand as he tried to stabilize himself.
“...daddy? Who are you talking to?”
Chris's head snapped to the front door, seeing little Rose holding a teddy bear close to her heart. She was dressed in pink pajamas with little clouds on them. Sleepily rubbing her eyes as she looked at him. Her little body was halfway out the door. Chris felt his heart ache as she called him a title he didn't deserve. Ever since she could talk and walk, Chris had tried to keep Ethan's memory alive, making sure she would call him Chris. She only knew of Ethan from stories, but Chris was real, and he was here with her. Why would she not get used to him being a father to her? He let out a sigh, tossing the now-burnt cigarette in the snow.
“No one sweetie, did I wake you?”
He took small steps as he reached then kneeled to her level. Chris then picked her up, his big arms holding her tightly. Rose yawns slightly, her straight blonde hair lightly blowing in the wind. She nodded tiredly.
“you were loud..are you mad?” Chris gave her a weak smile, as he gently ruffled her hair.
“Not at you, little one. Daddy has a lot on his mind..”
Little Rose pouted as she wrapped her tiny arms around Chris's neck and hugged him tightly.
“I missed you”
Chris sighed softly as he held her back. Opening his big jacket to wrap around her, keeping her warm from the cold. He took one of his hands to hold the back of her head. He let out a slight noise of relief as he kissed her temple. One day, she would know the whole truth and she did, he would gift her Ethan’s jacket that was collecting dust in a box upstairs in Chris’s room. Deep down he knew she would hate him, and he accepted that. For now, he enjoyed these moments before Rose grew up.
“I missed you, too sweet pea. Come on, let's get you warmed up” Chris said as he adjusted her on his hip. He took a moment to look over his shoulder, glaring at the spot where Wesker stood. Then shook his head and took his daughter inside of the cabin.
Hell was waiting for Chris Redfield, it was only a matter of time before he took his rightful place in the burning inferno. With all of the bloodshed over the years, it was no doubt there was a space for him. But he wasn't ready to go, not when he had Rose now to protect and care for.
