You had a long past of abusive exes, plus an abusive father, who made your every waking moment a living hell.
So, you finally... found a way to channel all that rage. All that pain.
At first it was all about the money, than it was revenge. But whenever you got on that pole and you felt all the eyes, of all those men, on you, you felt your rage boiling, but not enough to boil over.
You couldn't handle watching all those sleazeballs ogling you, but you knew that, this was the whole point of being a stripper.
Sure, the money is good but the satisfaction you get, when those men pay a bit extra, just to have you for a whole night, all to themselves, in a cheap motel room, or an expensive, extravagant hotel room, only to end up with their genitals cut off and thrown in the toilet, while having barbed wire wrapped around their heads and necks.
You've never actually slept with any of those men. They didn't interest you. You just wanted them to be the object... the target of all the rage from all the sexual, emotional and physical abuse you've endured since you were a kid.
.
The team has been trying to track your movements, for the past two years. But, without any valid leads to capture you, the trail to you kept going cold, time and time again.
That was until today.
It was supposed to be a regular night. You were dancing on the pole for your first round of the night, with a few private dances already booked for later.
Under normal circumstances, you're less tense. But the second you walk into the club, you feel a few pairs of eyes on you.
It's weird...
You feel like you're being watched but differently... more ominously... as if you're being scrutinized... as if you're under a microscope...
You brush the feeling off and go on about your night, like you normally would.
The second you get on the stage and wrap your hands around the pole, you see a new face in the crowd, and a pair of hazel, almost honey-colored eyes staring at you.
For a fragment of a second, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of that man. He's clearly older than you, at least by a decade.
His eyes followed your every move as you moved with a mastery and grace and sensuality, you've practiced, honed and perfected after four years on the job.
Even while your dancing and grinding your body on the pole, your mind was constantly going back to the mysterious, new guy you saw in the crowd.
.
You walk into the room, for your first private dance, only to see that very same guy that has been making your body feel hot this entire time.
"Hey there," he greets. His voice smooth and low as he speaks to you.
He's sitting back against the black leather seats of the room, legs spread and a obvious erection, straining against his slacks. The red led lights on the ceiling above him, highlight his jaw and his soft lashes.
God, you wanna jump his bones. You feel the heat between your thighs getting worse the longer you stand there and observe the man in front of you.
"I'm Spencer. What's yours, darling?" he asks, motioning for you to get closer and straddle his lap.
"I'm Y/n, handsome," you whisper in his ear, while you let your hands run all over his torso, feeling his muscles and the slight softness of his stomach and arms, beneath his neat clothes.
Ever since you got in this line of work, you've learnt to observe the little details about your clients. The brand of their clothes, shoes and jewelry (if they're wearing any). This way, you're able to tell what their job and status might be and how much money they are probably making.
You can tell, that his suit is not tailored, which means that his wage is probably not within the "six-figures-and-above" spectrum. You notice his watch, making a mental note about how old and worn out it is, yet you know that it was expensive when it was first bought, probably passed down to him by a family member or a gift.
"You were gorgeous up there," he whispers, with his hands traveling from your waist, to your hips and finally your thighs, pulling you closer to his body, until you can feel his heart beat against you.
"Why, thank you, baby~" you purr.
"How do you want this to go?" you ask him.
"How do these normally go?" he asks with a gentle smile, which has butterflies going crazy in your stomach, with his fingers brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face.
His touch is so light, so soft, as if it's barely even there.
This is the first time you've felt a touch so serene and gentle.
And it feels amazing.
"Normally it's just a lap dance... But it can go to something more, for a higher price," you genuinely answer his question.
"How much more?"
"It depends on each guy. Prices are debatable with me," you reply with a wink.
"So if i were to take you to a hotel room... would I have to pay for the lap dance too?"
"No. You just paid for the hour, you've rented this room for."
.
The room he paid for, is far more expensive that you thought it would be. You take your coat off and place it in the back of one of the armchairs in the room.
Now that you are alone with him, you feel more exposed under his gaze and you have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around your body to cover up, whatever you can.
You take your heels off, finally freeing your sore feet, as you neatly put them next to the bed, before you stand in front of it, thinking of what the night might bring, and what your next move it's going to be.
Spencer walks behind you and places his large, veiny hands on your hips; the feeling of his warm palms on your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine, while you can feel the arousal beginning to pool between your thighs.
His touch was so soft and gentle, you could feel your body getting hotter.
Usually whenever a man put his hands on you, you felt dirty, defiled, shameful.
But he... he is different. He's soft and kind and gentle, handling you like a fragile porcelain doll.
You feel free. You feel... happy.
"Is everything okay?" he softly asked, with his breath hitting your neck.
You give him a small nod, with your heart thumping against your ribcage. It's been so long since a guy made you feel like this.
His lips are feather light on the skin of your neck. You find your head falling back on his shoulder, while your thighs clench with the uncomfortable wetness pooling between them.
"May I?" he gently asks, with his fingers tightening their grip on your hips, ever so slightly.
With a small nod, he turns you around in his arms and captures your lips in a passionate, yet gentle, kiss. Your mind is going into an overdrive. You had to fight a losing battle, against the urge to push him on the bed and do what you would normally do for other clients.
But you can't. Not with him. Not when he's the first considerate man you've met in your life.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your body, feeling his cock hardening, in his pants, against your stomach, as you press yourself harder against him.
With ease, he sweeps you off your feet, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to the bed.
His body is firmly pressed against yours. Feeling his weight and the raging hard on in his pants, is something you never thought you'd enjoy but now you do. And God knows, you're a slut for him.
You crave him. You're desperate and he can feel it, when your arousal seeps through the thin material of your flimsy panties and goes on his pants, exactly where his cock is.
You quickly work on his jacket, tie and shirt, discarding them on the floor and revealing his toned body underneath. He's not very muscular. On the contrary, he's plenty thin, but you can tell he's strong and has muscle mass underneath his soft skin.
You feel your breath hitch in your throat, when he starts trailing kisses from your lips, to your neck; biting and sucking, but not enough to leave marks.
His hands move to your shoulders, pushing down the straps of your bra, before he cups the back of your head and holds you up to unclasp and discard it, with the rest of his clothes.
The way his tongue glides on your body, until it finds your hardened nipples, makes your body feel like it's on fire. You want everything. You want him in every way possible and you sure as hell, want this to last, even after the night is over.
His hands move down your body, reaching the waistband of your thong and tugging on it. You take the hint and lift your hips, letting him pull, the last piece of fabric, down your body.
"May I touch you?" he asks. His voice hoarse with lust and impatience. You give him a small nod and gasp, when his fingers push past your folds, feeling the wetness of your cunt and spreading it around.
He focuses a lot on your swollen clit, paying attention to it, while his middle finger, easily slides inside you. You feel the muscles of your walls, clamping down around his finger as he works you, pumping it in and out and a steady pace, with his thumb circling your clit.
You want to beg for more, but the words won't come out. The only thing you are able to o right now, is moan and writhe under him, while he fingers you.
When a second finger slides in and he starts to scissor them to stretch you out further, you feel your pussy flutter around them. The second he hits your g-spot and starts aiming for it with every curled thrust of his fingers, you feel your orgasm approaching you rapidly.
Your back arches off the bed and against his chest, when you reach your climax. Waves of pleasure and ecstasy hitting you like a tsunami, rocking your body and make it shake. He keeps fingering you hard and fast, prolonging your release as much as possible, before he grabs a tissue from the box on the nightstand and clean his hand up.
You watch closely as he gets off the bed and reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a row of condoms from it.
His eyes are glued on your panting and disheveled form on the bed, while he removes his pants and boxers, before getting on the bed and putting his hands on your knees, to push your legs apart.
He grabs the condoms, taking one from the row, opening it and rolling it on. His hands move to settle on each side of your head, with one of them, move to align his aching cock with your entrance.
A small gasp comes out of your lips, when the thick head of his dick pushes inside you. Your nails slightly dig into his shoulders, while your legs tense around his hips.
Your whole body is one, singular erogenous zone that's quickly catching on fire, with his every touch.
His pace starts off slow, giving you both time to adjust to the delicious sensation of your warm cunt wrapped around him.
His eyes are boring into yours, watching every movement and studying your body language like an open book.
The more time goes by, the more he increases the pace, getting desperate. Desperate for a release... but not before you cum first.
With a grin he pulls away just enough to grab the underside of your thighs and throw your legs over his shoulders, giving him better access to reach that deep, perfect spot that has fireworks exploding behind your eyes.
God, how you love this feeling.
It's unlike anything you've ever felt before in your life and you don't want it to end. So, you desperately try to hold off your orgasm just to enjoy this moment longer, but it becomes increasingly difficult, with the way he keeps drilling into you, so perfectly.
"Spence~ Oh fuck~" you moan, when your orgasm finally hits you like a tsunami; bliss washing over you, making your back arch and your nails dig into his shoulders, while your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, throwing him over the edge with you.
His whole body shakes and trembles as he finishes inside the condom; his grip on your hips getting tight enough to leave marks behind.
Spencer stays like that for a while long, staring at you, while holding himself up, with his hands on each side of your head.
Your eyes stay locked on his for a few moments, before you interlock your lips with his, in a soft, yet passionate, kiss.
.
Your reign at the bar you "worked" at, was officially over. Your hands are cuffed on your lap, as you sit in the bus, heading to your new home, Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility.
You weren't surprised, sad or angry. Just... empty. You look outside of the barred windows, watching the trees pass by, while your freedom is now nonexistent.
A shame...
But, as much as you want to be angry... you can't help but smile, as you remember Spencer and the night you spent with him. The way his large hands felt on your body, his lips on your skin, the trails of pure pleasure left behind after every orgasm.
You close your eyes and lean against the seat, a small smile on your face, as you let yourself accept the new order of things, but with this happy memory, being the only thing to keep you grounded.
Every single word that came out of his mouth was making the knot in your stomach, all the more tighter.
Your ears are ringing, making hard to focus on what he's saying, but by the look on his face, you can just assume it's just another fake, miserable apology, another poor attempt to make you think twice before leaving him.
You knew there was something wrong with him, the moment he walked in your shared apartment after being gone for a few days on a mission.
In those days he was gone, you stumbled upon his journal. At first you didn't think much about it, but a voice, in the very back of your head, was telling you to go through it.
Now that you're thinking about it, thank God you did. Because you wouldn't have found out that he only kept dating you, just to keep you as backup, in case shit hit the fan with Ada.
Oh, Ada...
The things you read about her in those worn out pages, of his leather bound journal, are still making your stomach churn when you remember them.
The details with which he described their intimate moments, the lies he never felt bad about telling you, because he just couldn't get enough of the thrill and the adrenaline that came with messing with her, behind the back of the woman who has been in love with him, for as long as he has been in love with Ada.
It's ironic, really. Thinking that a simple series of apologies are good enough to make you forget him for "only kissing her, on a moment of weakness".
"I don't know how to fix this," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky enough to tell you that he's either very good at faking, or that he actually feels some minimal regret for what he has done to you.
"You don't." Your voice is cold, calm and distant. You can't bring yourself to even look at Leon, as he sits next to you, looking like a kicked puppy.
Under normal circumstances, you would have forgiven him. Because what's better than deluding yourself, into believing that he still loves you, despite describing you as "boring" and "dull in bed" among other things.
Tears don't fall down your face, which only makes Leon do a double take, thinking you're just not blinking so they won't fall at all. But what he doesn't know, is that, when you found and read his journal, you cried so much that you ran out of tears, turning your heart cold and numb to survive.
You want to scream and cry. You really do, but you're just so mentally and emotionally drained after everything you read, that you just don't have the strength to shed any more tears for a man who only fed you lies, false hopes and promises, in the four and a half years you've been together.
"Y/n-" he starts, but the look in your eyes, is enough to make him stop.
"I always thought there was more to you than meets the eye, but I wouldn't have thought that the man who is seen as this... kind and sweet and caring person, would, oh so easily, use someone just to ran back to, in case things with your first option didn't work out."
"That's not fair... It was only a kiss..." he softly speaks, unable to look at you in the eyes. He knows his excuses are weak and that he has no one to blame but himself, but he'd rather get killed by Mr. X than admit that.
"Come on... We both know, it was never just a kiss... It's been so much more... For years. And what hurts the most, isn't the fact that you're in love with Ada... but that you've been lying to me... for four and a half years... You've been using me for comfort, when in reality, you can't even stand me."
"It's not true-"
"Stop." Your voice cuts him off, like a hot knife threw a bar of butter. The sound of the same voice, a voice so sweet and full of love towards him, is now filled with anger, disappointment and hurt.
"You know... I don't know and I don't care....why you didn't tell me about any of this, before... But what I do know, is that... I won't sit here and let you make a bigger fool of me." All the courage and energy you had left, is now focused on carrying yourself out of the same door you carried all of your things out of, a few hours ago.
"Wait-" he tries to catch you, by grabbing your wrist, but you're quick enough to dodge his attempt to stop you.
He knows he messed up. He thought he could have both of you and keep it a secret, but what he didn't think about, were the consequences he'd have to face, when things eventually fell apart.
.
The door slamming in the deadly silent apartment bounces from wall to wall, breaking the last remaining pieces of Leon's heart. He never meant to hurt you this way.
But then again...
What did he expect?
His eyes are glued on the engagement ring in his palm, the symbol of all the false hope and promises he fed you, the remains from the love he made you believe he felt for you.
When he first started this, he thought it wouldn't hurt if you ever left him.
But he was, oh so wrong...
He has never felt this kind of pain before. He starts to realize that you were the most important person in his life... Your smile made his day better, your laughter was enough to bring him joy and your affectionate hugs and kisses always sent his pain and misery away.
But now... Now, he's drowning in the sea of his mistakes, with no way of ever coming back to the surface without you.
You and Buck had agreed on a "friends with benefits" type of situation, and that if one of you ever caught feelings you would stop.
At first you thought it would be easy. Neither of you were interested in relationships, only fun and games.
But that was until you started working at the firehouse with him. That's when things started getting tricky.
Suddenly, you often caught yourself staring at him. Noticing his smile, his laugh, his body language.
So many things about him, made your heart race in your chest and you felt unable to resist the pull, like a moth to a flame.
Your mind was filled with images of him in his uniform, wearing that tight t-shirt, that looked like it was struggling to keep his muscles contained.
He was a player. A dog. A man-whore, but nothing could stop your heart from pounding in your chest when he was speaking to you, even while trying to act professionally toward you.
At night, his hands would be all over your body, leaving trails of fire and pleasure at their wake, his lips trailing every inch of your body, driving you crazy with ecstasy.
After work hours are over, and for the very few hours he's using your body for his pleasure, you're his and he's yours. For that small amount of time, nothing outside of his loft matters, but the two of you, tangled in his bedsheets, sweaty and panting and heaving, after the many, mind-blowing orgasms you both had.
.
Tonight, though, is different than all the other nights he called you to his apartment. He asked you to wear something nice and "doll up" a bit.
The second you heard that, against your better judgement, your hopes skyrocketed. Your mind was racing with all the possible scenarios that could play out, once you got to his loft.
You showered, waxed yourself raw, moisturized, exfoliated... You did it all.
.
You take one last look at yourself, in reflection of your car's windows, before you went in the apartment building.
The whole time you were in the elevator you were trying to calm yourself down. Thinking that it was probably nothing, but even so... a huge part of you, desperately hoped for a date. Even if he just ordered in and opened a bottle of wine.
The elevator dings, signalling that you've reached his floor. One last deep breath and you're out, standing in front of his door.
You raise your finger, pressing the door bell and patiently waiting for him to open up.
"Y/n! H-Hey... uh... What are you doing here?" he nervously asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
In that moment, you take a second to look at him.
He's naked, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, with no water on his skin or hair. Just when you were about to say something, you see Taylor Kelly appearing from behind him, in just her underwear.
Your heart drops to your feet and cold sweat forms on your forehead.
"You uh... You told me to come over," you manage to voice, without sounding as hurt and disappointed as you were.
"Yeah, but... I texted you a while later... telling you that we would have to postpone..." he speaks softly, his voice laced with sympathy and a hint of guilt, as he takes your appearance in. Your curled hair, your red dress, the heels and the red lipstick.
You looked like any man's wet dream... and all that because he asked you to dress up, only to cancel it.
"I must've... missed the memo then..." you speak again. Your eyes meet his for a second, before you put on your most convincing fake smile.
"It's fine. My bad. I didn't check my phone. Sorry for interrupting," you say with a smile, before turning around and leaving.
.
It's been a few weeks since that night and you still haven't talked to Buck, at all. You avoid him with every opportunity, only referring to him, when you need something about work.
Other than that, you wallow in the pit of despair, feeling like an idiot for falling for a guy, who was clear about his disinterest in a relationship from the start.
.
One morning though, you were sitting in the firehouse's loft, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, when Hen sits across from you.
The expression on her face tells you everything you need to know.
She knows.
"Y/n-"
"Don't. Whatever you have to say... don't. I'm an idiot... for thinking I could hold my own against a charming guy like him. For falling for a colleague and for making things more complicated than they need to be." The words roll off your tongue before you can think about them.
You've been wanting to unload your heart's burden for so long... and now that you have, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.
"I really... love him, Hen... But he doesn't see me this way."
Hen only looks at you, waiting for you to finish talking, before she does.
"It's so... hard... to love a guy who doesn't feel the same... who only uses you for his pleasure. When you're one of the many, but never the one. "
"Y/n..." he voice was soft and filled with sympathy, as she heard everything you had to say.
"You're not an idiot... Believe it or not, there are many things in life that we can't control. And who we fall for... is one of them. Believe me... I know."
"Hen..." you trail off, before she cuts you off.
"Buck cares for you. Hell, I think the guy is head over heels. But he's so very scared of being left alone again."
"Why?" you ask, without even thinking about it, a decision you immediately regret, when you see the look on Henrietta's face.
"There was this woman... he dated for a while when he first joined the team. She left him... she left him waiting on her for months, only for him to find out, years later, that she never planned on coming back to him," she explains.
Your jaw almost drops to the floor. You never thought, a guy like Evan, would be hiding abandonment issues. But the more Hen spoke, the more sense it made.
.
"Buck! Open the door!" you call out, while pounding your fist against his door, at 10pm.
You haven't seen him all day, and after what Hen told you, you wanna see him, hold him, kiss him.
Soon enough, the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Evan standing there, with a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The happy trail under his belly button, is enticingly playing hide and seek, when it disappears under the fabric of his sweats.
His tattoos and muscles are a sight you never get tired off, now completed by the messy curls he has on his head.
God, he looks so fucking beautiful.
Every inch of him is made to be loved, to be held and to hold. His veiny hands are placed firmly against the door and the frame, while his taller built is towering over you.
"Y/n-"
Your name from his lips is enough to send your body into a system malfunction, with your arms flying around his neck and your lips colliding with his before your mind has a chance to process what's happening.
His hand pushes the door closed and quickly pins you against it. Both hands are on your hips, holding you against his body, while your tongue is fighting his for dominance, in a dance so passionate, that takes your breath away.
You drop your purse on the wooden floor, before jumping in his arms, with your legs around his waist.
He lets out an guttural growl at the sudden action and his hands move from your hips to the back of your thighs, gliding higher under your skirt, until their on your ass, as he starts grinding his raging hard-on against your soaked panties.
"Buck~" you whine, against his lips.
For the first time, ever since this situation between you started, you feel totally and utterly consumed by him. And instead of fear, hesitation and dread, you feel thrilled, happy and absolutely confident.
The way he's kissing you, holding you, touching you, feels like he's putting his mark on you. Wanting to claim you. To make you his for life. All of his inhibitions have been thrown out of the window and have been replaced by raw, untamed desire, as he carries you to the couch.
.
His body feels scorching hot against yours. A thin layer of sweat has been formed on his skin and makes your fingers slide smoothly over him when you touch him.
He looks at you in the eyes with a smile, before he dives between your legs, holding your thighs spread and in place, as he begins his assault on your aching pussy, that has been begging for his attention since the beginning.
You gasp and moan, your voice coming out strained and high pitched, when his tongue teases your sensitive clit. He's switching between long licks and quick flicks, driving you crazy, when one of his hands moves from your thigh and with the tip of his finger, he's teasing your entrance.
If heaven could feel a certain way, you could swear, that this would be it. The way he works your body, making sure to aim for every sensitive spot you have, sends your mind into an system overload.
Your hand goes to his curls, holding it against you, as you grind your pussy against his face ("Swipe the nose like a credit card," like Cardi B said).
The intense bliss of your orgasm was right there, ready to consume you whole, when he stops, making you whine at the loss of contact.
You look at him, pleading for him to make you cum, to drive you over the edge, into the beautiful whirlwind of pleasure. You try to at least guide his hand between your legs, but he yanks it back.
"Buck-" he stops you from speaking, but slamming his lips on yours once more, while reaching down and positioning his rock hard cock against you.
One rough thrust is all it took for him to sheath his dick inside you completely, filling you up to the brim and making your back arch off the couch cushions.
Your nails dig into his broad shoulders, when he starts thrusting inside you, with his hands firmly holding your hips, to stop you from squirming too much.
Your voice comes out in high pitched cries and whines, while your whole body feels like it's on fire. His touch is electric on you, sending jolts of pleasure all over you, turning your body in a huge, erogenous zone.
Wherever he touches, he feels you shiver under his fingertips. And God, does he enjoy it.
Watching you moan and writhe underneath him, as he keeps on pounding into your pussy, sends him closer to his breaking point. Closer to the intense bliss, he only experiences with you.
Your body arches against his, when he hits a certain spot deep inside you, that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. His name coming out of your mouth like a mantra, a silent (or not) plea to help you finish.
He (thankfully) takes the hint and reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit just right, making you cum harder than he ever has before.
Your pussy clenches tightly around him, pulsing and sending waves of pleasure through him, until he reaches his orgasm as well.
He shakes and shudders at the feeling of his cum feeling you up, while your walls keep milking him for all his worth.
Once his brain finally reboots again, and starts working properly, he pulls away from your shoulder and looks at you.
"Y/n?"
"Hmm?" you hum breathlessly, with your eyes still closed, enjoying the feeling of the two of you being this close.
"Are you on birth control? Because I forgot to use a condom," he speaks, quietly.
"Yeah. You didn't knock me up. I promise," you reassure him, while wrapping your arms, around his shoulders and flipping you both on your sides, to cuddle.
.
You never thought a guy like Evan could be so loyal and so clingy when he gets in a relationship. But here you are. Sitting on his lap, with his arms around your waist, while you're playing Uno with Chim, Eddie and Hen.
"Oh, no you don't," Hen speaks, throwing two 4+ cards on the pile, after the three Chim already threw. Eddie follows with two more, looking at you with a grin.
"Fuck you, Eddie. Fuck. You," you mutter, as you pick up twenty four cards, creating a fan in your hand, right when you were left with only two cards.
"I hope you don't get too mad at me."
"I'll snitch you to Christopher," you declare, making everyone, including Buck, who's been sleeping with his head on your shoulder.
"You wouldn't..."
"I would. He'd be mad if he found out how mean you are to his Y/n."
"I'll buy you ice cream," he desperately says.
"Bribery won't work."
"I hate you."
"Liar."
.
A/N: HELLO!! I know it got a little sloppy at the end, but I ran out of inspiration for it. 😭😭😭😭😭
The drive back was uncomfortable and silent. You've spent the majority of the case, fighting with Spencer and throwing jabs at him for being an absent father, like his was.
Ever since you mentioned his own weak and pathetic excuse of a dad, he stayed silent, just looking at you, or the road ahead, lost in deep thought while he drove you back to your house.
There were so many things he wanted to ask. About you daughter, about you, about how you've been doing those past six years he was gone, but he feels like he doesn't have the right.
You could see the ice in his eyes and heart melting, the longer he was in your proximity and you didn't know what to make out of it.
Does he feel guilty for leaving? Or does he regret ever messing with you in the first place?
"What are you thinking about?" you suddenly ask, making his head snap towards you for a second, before he returns his gaze ahead.
"Just the things I didn't consider six years ago," he responds. His voice is barely above a whisper and you can clearly hear a tiny crack as he speaks.
"Go ahead. Ask whatever you want."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I never wanted to deprive my daughter of a father. So, I was always hoping that you'd change your mind and actually wanna be in here life. So, go ahead and ask me what you want," you sincerely explain.
The "kicked puppy" look on his face never failed to tug on your heartstrings, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Because a part of you... never stopped loving him. Never let him go completely.
Because that part of you... was holding onto hope.
"How... long were you in labor for?" he quietly asks.
"Not long. I gave birth in the car, on the way to the hospital," you answer honestly.
"My mom was freaking out while my sister, who's a doctor, helped me deliver the baby properly," you add.
"I see..." he trails off, as if he wants to say something else, but is actually hesitant to.
He can see how much you've changed in those years he was gone. In those he years he left you alone, because he was too worried about the opinions of others to focus on what was important.
"I never said this... but... I never meant what I said that night. I know it sounds like a lame thing to say, especially after being gone for six years... But it's the truth," he explains, with his voice overflowing with emotion and regret.
One would have thought that he would be cold and heartless after going in prison, for a crime he didn't commit.
But this... this is a mild reminder of why.
Why you loved him all those years ago.
Why you gave your daughter his last name, when you could have given her yours.
Why you've been hoping that he would come back to you.
"It is a very lame thing to say. Especially when I can't believe it," you reply.
"I wanted you there, you know. I wanted you to be there with me, and help me raise her. But you walked away. You never complained about our age difference before. Yet, when I got pregnant... that's when you remembered that you are ten years older than me?"
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, until his knuckles turn white. You wish you could say, you didn't want to do this, to him. But you would be lying.
You want him to hurt and suffer like you did, when you were pregnant and alone.
"I'm sorry..."
"A sorry can't do much now, can it?"
"Neither you trying to pick a fight."
"I'm not trying to pick a fight, Spencer. But, I need you to understand what I had to go through. I need you to know how it was for me, a twenty year old, being pregnant and raising a kid all by myself."
"What about your parents?"
"It's not the same. I wanted you there. The father of my kid. The person who helped me create this little miracle, even by accident."
You hear a heavy sigh leaving his lips, but you don't dare look at him.
"It's just... I need you to understand that... Being as young as I was when I had our daughter, with a guy who bailed on me immediately... let's say that it affected everything in my life."
You can see the way he's still clenching the steering wheel tightly, while his jaw is tense.
The memories of the countless times your "friends" excluded you from parties and hangouts, were getting to you.
You wanted to have a normal life, even as a mom. You were just twenty when you had your daughter. Twenty and alone, with no partner to help you raise your kid.
Sure. You're grateful for your parents and your sisters who helped you, but still... you wish it was the father of your kid.
"Growing up, I told her that her dad is a hero who saves people. Who sacrifices his life and his happiness, to ensure the safety of others. I couldn't tell her that he was a coward who abandoned her mother when she most needed him," you say, with a hint of bitterness seeping through your words.
.
He kept quiet for the rest of the drive back to your house. He wanted so many things to ask... to say... but he knew that nothing could ever erase what he put you through because he was scared...
He ached to ask if he could come up to your house, but when he looked at the time on the digital clock of the car's radio, he sighed and took a deep breath, letting you go in.
You give him one more, tight-lipped smile and head in your house, with your heart feeling heavy and with a sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking you.
.
The next morning, you wake up at 10am, when someone rings your doorbell. You're still groggy and sleepy and your mind is still asleep, so when you heard the doorbell, you half expected your mother or one of your sister to be behind the door.
That was... until you heard it.
It was muffled because the door of your bedroom was closed and you could barely register it, but you know you heard it.
"Daddy!" Diana happily exclaims when she opens the door and sees her father standing there.
Your eyes went wide and you immediately opened the door of your bedroom, running down the stairs and towards the front door.
The sight was gut-wrenching. Your daughter was so happy to see her father, who you're sure, doesn't know the name of his own daughter.
"Hello there, Diana..." he speaks quietly, as he wraps his arms around his kid tightly, with soft tears running down his face.
You start to feel like an asshole, for never reaching out to him and for not trying to give your daughter her father, but then the logical part of your brain chimes in:
"He left... He abandoned the two of you, like his father did to him and his mother... he was weak... he was a coward... he didn't deserve to be anywhere near your little girl," your mind reminds you sternly.
You weren't used to listening to your brain as much as you did your heart, especially for matters that had to do with that beautiful, little six year old.
"Diana..." you call out to her, with your voice cracking, as you begin to get choked up with unshed tears.
"Mommy! Daddy is here!! Can he stay? Please?"
You can't find it in your heart to refuse her. Her big, pleading eyes are breaking your heart, with the way she looks at you, begging you silently to let her dad stay with the two of you.
.
You didn't try to send him away while Diana was around, but you did glare at him a lot and basically killing him with your eyes.
If looks could kill, you'd be the next unsub the team would have to investigate.
But even through all the bitterness and all the anger that were boiling beneath the surface, you could clearly see how truly and utterly happy he is to be with his daughter.
The way he was playing with her when you took her to the park and how he had her on his shoulders while you were getting ice cream and how easily and naturally it came to him, to put her to bed at night.
He was a natural at being a father. And now, he was going to do everything in his power to prove to you, that he's here to stay.
.
It's finally 11pm and Diana has gone to bed, after she begged her father to read something to her.
In the meantime, you took the chance to take a shower and think for a while. Think about what happened today and think about how easy it was for him to gain her trust.
You wanted to be mad at him. Mad at how easily he managed to intervene and act like a father, when he hadn't been one, in these past six years you needed him to be.
"Y/n?" You hear his voice call out to you from the slightly open bathroom door.
"What?"
"She's asleep."
"Okay. You can go to your house now."
"I ordered Chinese. I got your favorite."
You felt your heart skip a bit for a second. He remembered what your favorite is.
"Oh... Okay..."
You tried to act casual. You didn't want to let him in your heart again. Fear was creeping in, making hard to trust the father of your kid.
But honestly... Who can blame you?
.
The wine has gotten to your head, making you slur your words and walk unsteady. Every move you made, even while sitting on the couch next to him, felt like a torture, because they just made your stomach feel worse.
God knows, how you normally wouldn't be "chilling" with Spencer next to you like this, but the alcohol in your systems has brought back out all the desire, you've been bottling up.
Before either of you can comprehend what's happening, you're straddling Spencer's lap, with his hands roaming your body, until one stops on your lower back, while the other goes to the back of your neck, holding you closer to him.
Sparks are flying all over the room, rekindling the same fire you thought was long gone.
His touch, his lips, the noises he makes... it's all too much for your poor, drunk and fuzzy brain.
Your shaky hands work on his shirt, while he grabs both sides of yours and rips it open, with buttons going all over.
He is hungry... Starving for something he thought he didn't need...
You.
He craves you desperately. And now, he finally has you again, in his arms.
The logical part of him, that hasn't completely vanished under the influence of the booze, was praying you wouldn't regret any of this in the morning. That you'd still want him by your side, as your partner and the father of your kid.
.
Your clothes have made a trail, leading to the bedroom, where the two of you are naked, with Spencer buried deep inside you, as you bounce on top of him. His arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his body, scared you'll disappear if he lets go.
Your head falls back between your shoulders, when he lays down and starts thrusting upwards, reaching deeper inside you, in places that no one has ever been able to hit, yet.
Your nails dig into his chest, your teeth biting your lip at your futile attempt to muffle your moans and cries, so you won't wake Diana up.
Everything feels so right. So perfect. Your bodies fitting together like two pieces of puzzle, made for each other and no one else.
Stars begin exploding behind your eyelids, as you get closer to your orgasm, with each second that ticks by.
The pace you have set gets faster, sloppier and more uncoordinated. Your voice comes out in high pitched mewls and whimpers while he's breathing heavily, holding back his groans while feeling his balls growing tighter and tensing up, ready to unload.
You had almost forgotten how good sex with Spencer is. And now that you have it again, you don't want it to stop.
Seconds later, all of your worries turn into a bliss, a feeling of warmth as you finally fall over the edge, dragging him along with you and making him cum inside your quivering pussy.
Your whole body is trembling, and your heart is pounding in your chest. The room goes quiet, with the only sounds inside, being your heavy breathing.
"Wow..." you manage to voice, while still shaking from the intense orgasm.
"Yeah... Wow..."
.
Life seems happier... brighter, now that you have Spencer by your side.
You always knew he was good with kids, but now you got to see it for yourself, whenever he plays with your daughter, or feeds her or even when he reads her a bedtime story.
He looks at her as if she's the center of his universe, with his heart filling up with love and adoration for his little girl.
"Is she asleep?" you ask him, when he walks into the living room.
"Yeah. Sleeping like a baby."
"You know, when you're away on a case, she begs me to read her a story the way you do," you confess with a tired smile, as you lean your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his waist.
"Really?"
"Yeah. And when I fail the task, she gets all fussy," you chuckle.
Your laughter is followed by his, which is a deep, heartily sound, sending shivers down your spine whenever you hear it.
His embrace feels like your safe place, like your solace, your paradise.
You slowly close your eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over you, as you both fall asleep on the couch, cuddling each other until the sunlight comes.
It's been almost a year since Soap left for his mission and never returned.
The silence in your shared apartment is deafening and it feels like it's suffocating you.
There's no more loud music when he dead lifts in the living room. His smell has disappeared from everything that once belonged to him, and the sound of his voice is a memory, that feels more distant that it really is.
Every night you fall asleep, thinking he's laying next to you, softly snoring as he cuddles you. You close your eyes and beg to feel his arm around your waist again, holding you tightly against his chest as he slept.
Some days you wake up, smiling, because you know that, that's what he would want you to do. Smile when you think of him and laugh when his jokes come back to you.
But most days are like this. Miserable. Dull. Grey and sad. Lifeless and lonely, with no more signs of him. You find yourself watching the videos you used to, randomly, take of him when he was "trying" to cook, when he was playing a video game or even when he was eating.
His laugh, his smile, those majestic blue eyes, that hypnotized you every time he would look at you, are now gone. Dead and buried.
.
"Good morning, handsome," you greet softly, as you place a bouquet of fresh red roses in front of his grave.
The name on the cold headstone, always snapped you back to reality, so brutally... only making your pain worse, when the realization hits you just as hard as the first time...
He's gone...
"I'm sorry, I didn't come earlier this week... I've been a bit busy with work... It's the only thing that makes me forget, Johnny... Forget that you're not here... Forget that I'll never hear your voice on the other side of the phone, when you would call me just check up on me and make sure I ate," you continue. Your voice begins to crack and a lump has formed in your throat, making the words come out strained and heavy.
"It's hard, baby... Living without you... Living life and trying to move on from you... I don't want to move on, baby... I don't want to live my life when you're not there for me..."
Sobs are raking through your body, your voice low and shaky with every word that escapes your lips.
"Simon, Kyle and John have been visiting with every chance they get... I think... Price is blaming himself for your death... Simon is drinking more and Kyle... Well... Let's just say he's doing a tad bit better than the rest... But still... he visits and cries when he hugs me... always whispering apologies..." you continue, as you wipe your tears away.
"My mom calls every day... she sometimes asks to speak to you... and I have to remind her that the only way she would be able to speak to you now, is through a Ouija board."
You take a deep breath and raise your gaze up at the sky. The day is so beautiful. The sun is casting mesmerizing shadows on his headstone, as it slips between the brunches of the large oak trees.
"I never told you this, but... I had to beg Price not to cremate you... Because... I know you had told me that you wanted to be cremated if you died and still had no one waiting for you... But since you do have people who care about you... I asked them to bury you instead... So... don't be too mad at me when we meet again... Okay?" you speak softly, while your eyes are still looking up at the bright blue sky, which only reminds you of the beautiful blue color of his eyes.
.
That night, you were going through the same routine you always did... but for some reason... something felt different.
You looked at your closet and put on the nightdress, John always loved to see on you. Short and red, made out of satin and black lace. Scandalous, yet so pretty.
.
When you close your eyes, you feel arms wrapping around your body. Someone's body heat is engulfing your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into your slumber.
You immediately knew who it is and with a smile, you whispered:
"I'm coming, Johnny..."
.
Your body laid there for three days, before your mother finally came to visit you.
She rang your doorbell many times and when you didn't answer, she used her spare key to open your front door.
The second she stepped in, the sent of decomposition and death, greeted her and made cold sweat form on her face. A sense of dread washed over her with every step she took into your suspiciously quiet apartment.
Her hand was trembling as she finally reached your bedroom. She was sure she knew what she would find inside but still... nothing could prepare her for what she would end up seeing.
.
Your funeral was beautiful, with bees and butterflies hovering over the flowers on your casket.
The sun was shining above you, while cries and sniffles could be heard in the maddening silence of the cemetery.
I'm having a bit of a hard time deciding what I want my Criminal Minds story to be about. So, what I want from you, is to right down in the comments, what you think I should write about, meaning the relationship between Spencer and the Reader/OC, how they meet, which season I should start from. All that. Don't be afraid to share you thoughts. I will read everything and decide at the end.
What most people know and it's common knowledge now, is that Spencer is awfully good at keeping secrets.
That's how he kept his mother's condition a secret for so long and that's how, for two years, he was keeping you a secret.
He had, somehow, convinced you that it was for your own safety. That because of his line of work, madness could seep into your relationship and private lives, if people found out that he has a significant other.
And it did make sense for a while. But when you found out you were pregnant and told him about it, that's when the real reason came to the surface.
He never saw you as something serious.
You were pretty enough to fuck, but not beautiful enough to love.
You were just... his "ten years younger" fuck buddy.
You thought that he was going through a rough patch, back then. You thought that he was just saying all that because of the stress. Because of the anxiety and pressure he's been going through.
But when you looked into his eyes... they were unwavering from you... he didn't flinch... he didn't even stutter.
He meant everything. And it broke you.
It shuttered the way you thought of your relationship with him.
When you went back to your house that night and told your family about it, their first reaction was absolute and utter shock.
Your father threatened to take his shotgun and "teach Spencer a lesson", while your mother and two younger sisters, were immediately surrounding you, filling you with nothing, but love and comfort.
.
But now... here he is... walking into the bullpen, after being gone for a few months in prison.
It's been six years since you last saw him. He has changed so much. He has gotten more intimidating, rougher around the edges. Much hotter.
The second you meet his stoic gaze, a feeling you had long forgotten, stirs in your stomach.
You can't help the way your body always reacts to the smallest of things, when it comes to him.
His, once gentle, sweet and loving, hazel eyes are know filled with anger and misery. Pure, untamed rage, hides behind those beautiful eyes, that used to make you swoon and melt when they looked at you.
You could feel your heart clench at the sight, at the thought that he's looking at you like that, when he's the one who left.
The pain in your heart quickly gets replaced by anger, when the memories of the night you've spent alone, take over your mind. Countless nights of begging for him to return to you, nights where you would call and text him, up until the point where he blocked your number.
You tried begging him, trying to reason with him, but nothing ever worked. Yet, it all stopped, when you held your daughter in your arms for the first time.
Her tiny hands closing around your fingers, while she was still wrinkly and fresh out of your womb, after twenty hours of labor and immense amounts of pain.
The moment you saw that little miracle, all the thoughts you had of wanting Spencer back in your life, disappeared and now, all you could think about was properly raising your child, giving her the life she deserves, even without a father.
.
"What are you doing here, Y/n?" he coldly asks, his voice distant, representing the way he feels about... well... everything right now.
"I'm the new team member," you state, nonchalantly. Even though you want to pretend as if he has no affect on you, you can feel your heartbeat getting faster, at the sight of him, looking so fucking delicious in this black suit and the merlot red tie.
His hair is disheveled and his once, clean shaven face, is covered with the coarse hair of his beard.
"You're can't be serious."
The tone in his voice is enough to spark your anger again, but as much as you would love to snap at him, you can't.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must've missed the punchline of the joke."
"You think you're funny, don't you?"
"I think I'm adorable," you say with a grin.
"You know, if you had half the brain, you'd leave. This job is not for you."
"Neither is prison for you, a man who can never go astray, even to protect himself. Always depending on others to save you. Aren't you tired of having others help you back up, instead of standing on your own feet for a change?"
You thought you heard his teeth crack from how hard he was gritting them. His jaw was tense and his fists clench and unclench on his sides.
"You know, leaving you and that brat you were pregnant with, was the best decision I've ever made. And God help me, I'd do it again."
Your blood was boiling inside your veins. You wanted to punch him but, you kept a cool head, digging your nails deep in your palms, until you drew blood from the small cuts.
Hearing him say like that, for your baby. His own flesh and blood, made you see red. But right before you could answer, Garcia called everyone in the conference room, to brief the team on the new case.
.
.
You wanted to scream, shout and let it all out. You wanted to bash his head on the dashboard, just to wipe that shit eating grin off his face.
The case was simple and irritating at the same time.
You and Spencer have to pretend to be a couple, to lure the Unsub and prevent him from chasing another innocent couple.
You try to focus on the case, but it's impossible. Because the desire and love you used to feel for this man, begins to shine through all the hatred and anger.
You glance at him a few times during the awkward drive, observing more details about him and about how much he changed from that sweet guy you fell for, all those years ago.
You hate how much you want to kiss him and let him hold you. You hate that you find him attractive and that, even after everything, he still has some kind of power over you, even if he doesn't know it.
"You keep undressing me with your eyes, I might catch a cold," he suddenly speaks, snapping you out of your trance and abruptly dragging you back to reality.
"And I would want to do that because?"
"I don't know. I'm not the one staring and rubbing my thighs together," he replies with a smirk.
"I'm trying to find it in me and put an act that's, at least, a little bit believable. But I got nothing. And as for my thighs, I'm trying to get comfortable with this tight dress."
You know those are weak excuses, but you're going to give him the satisfaction, of admitting that you still get affected by him in your premises.
"Uh huh," he hums, with that same smirk, never leaving from his lips.
God, you hate him... but you hate yourself more, for knowing that it's a lie.
.
The second you and Spencer sat on a booth inside the club, you felt his hand go on your thigh, giving a small squeeze before it travelled higher on your leg.
The whole plan is for you two, to act as if you're madly in love with each other and can't keep your hands to yourselves. Because those kinds of provocative behaviors are the ones, that trigger the Unsub's rage.
With a smirk, you throw your leg over Spencer's lap, nearly straddling his thigh, as you grab him by the tie and bring his face close to your face.
"Damn, sweetheart. I didn't know you had it in you. You might not be as useless and pathetic as I initially thought," he whispers in your ear, with his hands going on your hips and placing you on his thigh, the pressure between your legs, becoming too much, all of a sudden.
Before you can utter anything, you feel his hand, discreetly moving between your thighs, teasing you over the fabric of your thong.
"You don't get to touch me after everything you've done," you bitterly say, through gritted teeth and a fake smile, while gently pushing his hand away from you.
As much as you wanted him to fuck you like he used to, your mind and heart are in constant conflict, trying to decide between desire and logic.
"Oh yeah? And what did I do?"
"Left when I needed you the most. That's what you did."
You feel your blood pressure rise at the smirk on his face, when his hand goes back between your thighs, rubbing you harder than before and earning a small yelp, that was barely audible through the loud music.
"You know... in case you ever care. You have a daughter. She's a sweetheart and the brightest kid, I've ever seen," you speak, without looking at him.
"Of course she's bright. She's my kid," he proudly states.
"No. My kid. I raised her. Not you. You left."
"Getting you pregnant was an accident-"
"And fucking around with you, a mistake. But unlike you, I took responsibility and raised a beautiful young girl, who is curious and eager to learn the world through her big eyes," you speak.
The immense and undying love and pride you have for your daughter, are honestly admirable for everyone who knows you and for everyone who meets you for the first time.
You didn't want to be here anymore. The more he talks, the more you feel like you've overestimated his emotional intelligence back then.
You assumed that because he was abandoned by his father, that he wouldn't do the same to you.
But God, were you wrong.
You can understand, him not being ready to be a father and being worried about the dangers of his job and the jeopardy he would put you and your child into, if he stayed.
But calling you pathetic and useless for something that it took both of you to happen, was what pissed you off the most.
Because it was the pain of being rejected so brutally and the emptiness you felt when you were left all alone, to decide between giving up your child and giving birth and becoming the mother it deserved.
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
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It's been a year since you and Spencer.... since Spencer left. You have been moving on finally. Life was beginning to smile at you again.
You have been keeping yourself busy with work and renovating your house, until it reminded you nothing of pain, heartbreak and abandonment.
Alcohol has become your best friend in that year. You go out, party and drink, occasionally filling your loneliness with meaningless hookups.
You tried dating, but every time you try, you find yourself regretting it. No one could ever understand you like he did. No one ever loved you like he did.
Every night was still filled with the memories of what once was and the what ifs of what it could be.
.
You decided to visit your mom in a the care unit she lives in, in New York. At first you thought that you didn't want her to see you being like this.
But this had been a long year, and you need her.
Being back to what you knew, feels weird... but so awfully calming. You navigate your way through the familiar alleys and streets, heading to your mother.
You stop by your mother's favorite restaurant and grab her favorite takeout, on the way to the clinic.
.
Your old friend group had convinced you to go out with them for a few drinks, since you were back for a little while. At first you didn't want to, but when you thought, that you don't know when you'll see them next, you agreed.
You put on a simple black sundress, with white and pink flowers on it. You didn't bother with much makeup or your hair. You just did a half updo and put a thin layer of lipstick.
.
The music was so loud, it made your stomach and ears hurt. Your friends were already by the bar and had their boyfriends with them. You could see the smug look on their faces the moment you realized that you were the only single person in the group.
When they began to talk with each other and turn to you only once or twice, you felt like you were gonna be sick by how awkward you were just standing there, against the bar, drinking your third beer already.
The air got suffocating and the crowd of drunk, sweaty, horny and high people was getting too much for you, that you just had to step out for a moment.
At least that was the initial plan. Because when you glanced back at your "friends", your stomach was tied in a knot and you wanted to cry, by how obviously they were showing off their husbands and fiancés to you.
So, with one last swig of your beer, you pay for your drinks and start leaving.
As you walk back to the hotel, you can't help but let your mind wander to the time before Spencer left you.
The happiness, the love, the passion, the desire.
The countless nights he held you close to his chest after a few rounds of mind-numbing orgasms. The words of love and reassurance he softly spoke into your ear and the one last "I love you so much" he would whisper, before you drifted into a peaceful slumber.
The mornings you'd wake up to him trying to cook but almost burning the house down because of how much he lacked the skills to cook.
You thought you had moved past those time, past the heartbreak. Past the pain, those memories bring you.
Tears begin to drip down your face and the clenching in your heart gets too much, that your knees get week and you fall down on the sidewalk, kneeling and softly sobbing.
People walk by you and look at you as if you've sprouted a second head. No one stops to ask if you're alright and right now, you appreciate it. How would you even begin to explain, to someone you don't know, the reason behind your tears and misery?
"Ma'am? Are you okay?" You hear a soft and gentle voice ask you. The voice sounds awfully familiar, even though you don't want to let that small voice, in the back of your head, jump into conclusions.
You shake your head, as a reply, since your voice is stuck in your throat and you feel like a hand is tightly wrapped around your neck, keeping you from speaking.
The second you feel the stranger's hand on your back, you immediately know...
Even though you haven't felt it in over a year, your body and mind know...
Your tears fall harder when you lift your gaze to meet Spencer's. Suddenly all the heartbreak and the anger you've been bottling up comes rushing out, hitting you like a tsunami.
You want to scream and hit him and tell him how he ruined everything...
But when you look at him and see how much better than you he looks, something in your brain clicks.
You deserve better than crying in the middle of the street, over someone who left you.
You quickly wipe your tears and take a deep breath. Once you're back on your feet, you grab your purse from the ground and with one last goodbye, you begin to leave.
"Wait! Y/n!" he calls out, wrapping his hand around your wrist to keep you from leaving.
"Thank you for helping, sir. But I should get going. My mama told me not to talk to strangers."
"That's what we are? Strangers?" he asks, the hurt and insult he felt, seeping into his words as he speaks.
"I'm not going to have this conversation. Not here and not after a little over year, since you left."
Without saying a word, he drags you over to his car and opens the passenger seat, waiting for you to get in. You roll your eyes and take a seat, watching as he closes the door and gets in the car, starting the engine and quietly driving.
Your mind is racing with the possibilities of what might happen. A part of your brain and heart are getting their hopes up, praying that Spencer will want you two, to get back together.
A few hours ago, you would be willing to try and forget about what happened, if he came to you and told you that he wants to be yours once more.
But now... Now you can't handle the thought. The constant fear and worry you would have to live with, if you and Spencer ever got back together.
.
"Why did you bring me here?" you ask, annoyed.
He didn't utter a word on the whole drive to the hotel, him and the team, are staying in.
"Because we need to talk and you said you wouldn't talk to me in public."
'I meant, I wouldn't talk to you in general,' you thought. You had to bite down your tongue, to keep any snarky and sarcastic comments from escaping.
"Okay. What's there to talk about?" you ask. The more you're in his premises, the more you feel like exploding, because the sadness has quickly been replaced by anger.
"Us."
"There's no 'us'. You made sure of that."
"Y/n-" he starts, but you stop him before he continue.
"Don't "Y/n" me. There is no us. There is nothing between us."
"Y/n, please. Listen to me-"
"There is nothing that you have to say, that I want to hear," you bite back, venomously.
"This was always the problem with you. You never listen," he says, with annoyance, evident in his voice.
"Why would I want to listen to a guy, who left me with no note, no warning, no explanation?" you question. He looks at you, obviously choosing his next words carefully.
"You're just like your father. I guess it's true what they say. The apple never falls far from the tree."
Your words cut him like a knife. He never thought he would be one to copy his father's behavior, by leaving the woman he loves.
"But I get it. Don't worry. Who would you be, if you didn't leave your life one of two ways? Stuck in the past. In a relationship that was barely even there, with Maeve Donovan. Or in a constant state of patience, wishing for a life with JJ," you add, your words flying from your lips like bullets, hitting him straight to the heart.
You wish you could say you're not enjoying this. The look of pure pain, misery and anger on his face... But you do. Too much.
"I hope that... you do realize that, if it wasn't for that Unsub threatening JJ, you would spend the rest of your miserable life, settling for me, instead of JJ. Right?"
"I wasn't settling for you," he says, deafensively.
"Really? Could have fooled me, with how quick you were to leave when JJ confessed her 'undying love' to you, under gunpoint," you reply, emphasizing on the last two words.
"What, you think she lied?"
"I think that she was never planning to tell you. And why would she? She has the perfect husband, who's handsome, father material and a good partner. She's married with kids. She moved on. But you never did. You were desperately leeching on the mixed signals she was always giving you. That's the only thing that kept your hopes up and unwavering, all these years."
He looks at you, trying to contemplate a way to speak without his voice breaking. You always managed to see right through him and he hated it. He hates it, because it scares him.
You didn't have to do much, to guess what he was thinking. That's what surprised him the most about you, when you two first started dating.
"You know, I'm jealous of JJ. Because she has the perfect husband by her side. And now she has you. The guy she loved from the start but was to much of a coward to say it. While I'm here... left with no one. No one to go home to. No one to hold me. No one to love and care about me."
The pain is your voice is as clear as day. He wants to tell you how sorry he is. How much he regrets hurting you, but would his words mean anything to you, when you're right?
He, sometimes, found himself wondering what would happen if he never left. If he rejected JJ and he stayed with you. Would he be happy then? Or would he feel as empty as he does now?
He missed you. He found himself comparing JJ to you. A lot. He couldn't get you out of his head, this past year he has been away.
His own thoughts plague him and haunt him, making him wonder what would happen if...
"I'm not mad at you... I'm mad at myself, for not realizing this sooner, but... I was never your first option. But to me, it never mattered, as long as I kept you happy. I thought that if I tried hard enough, you wouldn't leave me, like my father left me and my mom... I was wrong. You were going to leave, no matter how hard I tried to keep you with me," you admit, more to yourself than to him.
Finally voicing all those things, feels... liberating. Cathartic. You finally got the closure you deserved and you can be the one to leave his life.
You take your things from his bed and with one last kiss on his cheek, you walk out of his hotel room, finally able to leave the part of you that still loved him, behind.
He had promised you. He promised the moon and the stars. He swore he loved you and that his feelings for JJ were non-existent anymore.
And you foolishly believed him.
It was enough for you that he was sweet, genuine and loving towards you. You actually believed that he meant when he said, you were the one for him now.
But during a hostage situation, under gunpoint, JJ confessed that she always had feelings for Spencer.
At first you thought it was ruse. That she just said it, to get them out of that tough spot.
But then you realized that it was real.
She meant every single word.
After that, Spencer started becoming distant and cold towards you. As if his love for you was fading... way too quickly for you to adjust.
You didn't know what to do. You couldn't, for the life of you, figure out what was going on in that busy brain of his.
Every time you tried to talk to him, he would get snappy. He would lash out on you and he would be even more closed off than before.
You couldn't bear the thought of your six year long relationship falling apart, like that.
.
You had gone home from work earlier that day. You had brought him his favorite donuts and takeout from his favorite restaurant, to try and see if he would talk to you, in a better manner than all those times before.
Your keys jiggle as you unlock the front door. Walking in, you're met with a deafening silence and a deep, uninviting darkness. You didn't think much of it, at first.
You just assumed he had gone on another case. It wouldn't be the first time you would come back from work, to an empty house, with him miles away from you. Especially the last few months.
You pull your phone out to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. You try once again. And again. And again. But it's always the same thing.
The last time you called him, you left him a voicemail to call you when he heard your message.
You drop you bag on the couch and place the boxes of food on the kitchen counter, before you remove your heels by the door and hang your coat on the rack.
Upon ascending the stairs to go to your bedroom, you start to feel the aura around the house getting heavier. You feel as if something's not right.
You take a deep breath and walk into the bedroom, only to have your heart shattered, like crystal. Like the finest porcelain doll, that just fell off its shelf.
The closet and the drawers of the dresser and his nightstand are on the bed and empty, with only his engagement ring on the drawer of his nightstand. You look around the house for any sign, anything that could indicate where he went or if he would be coming back, but you couldn't.
He left. He abandoned you without a word.
You would think that after six years in a relationship and year of engagement and wedding planning, you, at least, deserved a heads up. A letter. A warning. Something.
But you got none of that. You were only left alone, in an empty house, with a fiancé who left you for the woman he loved for all of his years in the BAU.
.
You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. But nothing ever came out. No tears rolled down your face and no sobs escaped your lips.
You look at the ring in you hand and then move your gaze, back to the one on your finger, before you remove it too.
Instead of crying, screaming or breaking things, you busy yourself with putting the drawers back in their places and throwing out anything that he might have left behind.
You felt cold and empty, as if a part of you was suddenly ripped out of you and now your brain is struggling to process the new order of things.
.
Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. The longer the time passed, the harder you found yourself struggling with the fact that you were abandoned by the only person in the whole wide world, who you thought would never do this to you.
The nights are always the worst, when you have to return to an empty house, full of memories and ghosts of the love you once shared with Spencer, hiding in the shadows, mocking and berating you.
Alcohol was your only friend, when you were home alone. The only thing that worked and numbed the pain.
Numbed the loneliness.
Numb the void in your heart.
You get up from the couch, holding the fourth bottle of beer in your hand, as you walk to the small vase above the fireplace, turning it around, until the engagement rings fall into your palm.
You stare at them, feeling as if they're mocking you too. Making you feel like a fool, for believing that you could ever compete with JJ.
A blond, badass woman, with a killer body and mesmerizing blue eyes.
Who wouldn't want a woman like that?
How can you compete, somewhere you don't even compare?
Your heart was feeling like it was breaking every time you thought of the way, things between you and Spencer, ended. But even when you feel like you're on the verge of tears, nothing comes. You just stand there, feeling empty.
An empty husk of the person you were before.
.
When Garcia, Emily, Tara, Rossi and even Luke, found out what happened between you and Spencer, they didn't stop checking in with you.
You might not be part of the team, but you are part of the family. A fact that won't change just because you and Spencer are no longer together.
Garcia brought you bags, full of colorful pieces of decoration to give your apartment some life, while Emily and Tara made sure to take you out for drinks every Sunday.
Rossi would come and cook for you on Saturdays, (or you would go to his house), while Luke brings Roxy over, every Friday, and spends the night with you, watching movies and TV shows, while munching on junk food.
They made sure to never, ever leave you alone. That you wouldn't feel as abandoned as you thought you were.
But, even though their presence around you, is a welcoming ray of sunlight into your deep, suffocating darkness; Spencer's absence was still something you were struggling to accept.
You sometimes went to bed, begging, praying, that this is nothing but a bad dream, that's gonna end when you wake up in the morning. That you'll open your eyes the next day, and you'll be back into Spencer's arms.
.
You tried therapy ever since he left. But when it came to voicing out, the fact that Spencer left and is not coming back, made it all too real for you.
And you hated it.
It was like the day your dad left you. He promised... he swore, he would always be there for you, no matter what happens.
But one morning, you woke up to your mother crying in the kitchen, clenching a piece of paper in her hand.
Her pained voice, when she told you that your father left and won't be coming back, has been marked with a piece of hot iron, in your mind, playing over and over again, in the most inconvenient moments.
For years and years on end, you blamed yourself for your father leaving you and your mother.
It took years of therapy and patience and inner work, to realize that it wasn't your fault. But the day Spencer left, you knew... you knew, you were back to square one.
You tried to convince yourself that it wasn't your fault and that he is a grown man, who made a choice. Yet, whenever you tried to argue, the voices in your head came back to life... laughing at you.
"Everyone eventually leaves... because of you," you heard them whisper, while you were asleep (or trying to fall asleep).
The thought of him being happy with someone who is not you made your blood boil with jealousy and anger.
It was supposed to be you
You were supposed to be his significant other. You were supposed to make him laugh. YOU were supposed to make him feel loved and desired and cared for.
He had promised you. He promised the moon and the stars. He swore he loved you and that his feelings for JJ were non-existent anymore.
And you foolishly believed him.
It was enough for you that he was sweet, genuine and loving towards you. You actually believed that he meant when he said, you were the one for him now.
But during a hostage situation, under gunpoint, JJ confessed that she always had feelings for Spencer.
At first you thought it was ruse. That she just said it, to get them out of that tough spot.
But then you realized that it was real.
She meant every single word.
After that, Spencer started becoming distant and cold towards you. As if his love for you was fading... way too quickly for you to adjust.
You didn't know what to do. You couldn't, for the life of you, figure out what was going on in that busy brain of his.
Every time you tried to talk to him, he would get snappy. He would lash out on you and he would be even more closed off than before.
You couldn't bear the thought of your six year long relationship falling apart, like that.
.
You had gone home from work earlier that day. You had brought him his favorite donuts and takeout from his favorite restaurant, to try and see if he would talk to you, in a better manner than all those times before.
Your keys jiggle as you unlock the front door. Walking in, you're met with a deafening silence and a deep, uninviting darkness. You didn't think much of it, at first.
You just assumed he had gone on another case. It wouldn't be the first time you would come back from work, to an empty house, with him miles away from you. Especially the last few months.
You pull your phone out to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. You try once again. And again. And again. But it's always the same thing.
The last time you called him, you left him a voicemail to call you when he heard your message.
You drop you bag on the couch and place the boxes of food on the kitchen counter, before you remove your heels by the door and hang your coat on the rack.
Upon ascending the stairs to go to your bedroom, you start to feel the aura around the house getting heavier. You feel as if something's not right.
You take a deep breath and walk into the bedroom, only to have your heart shattered, like crystal. Like the finest porcelain doll, that just fell off its shelf.
The closet and the drawers of the dresser and his nightstand are on the bed and empty, with only his engagement ring on the drawer of his nightstand. You look around the house for any sign, anything that could indicate where he went or if he would be coming back, but you couldn't.
He left. He abandoned you without a word.
You would think that after six years in a relationship and year of engagement and wedding planning, you, at least, deserved a heads up. A letter. A warning. Something.
But you got none of that. You were only left alone, in an empty house, with a fiancé who left you for the woman he loved for all of his years in the BAU.
.
You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. But nothing ever came out. No tears rolled down your face and no sobs escaped your lips.
You look at the ring in you hand and then move your gaze, back to the one on your finger, before you remove it too.
Instead of crying, screaming or breaking things, you busy yourself with putting the drawers back in their places and throwing out anything that he might have left behind.
You felt cold and empty, as if a part of you was suddenly ripped out of you and now your brain is struggling to process the new order of things.
.
Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. The longer the time passed, the harder you found yourself struggling with the fact that you were abandoned by the only person in the whole wide world, who you thought would never do this to you.
The nights are always the worst, when you have to return to an empty house, full of memories and ghosts of the love you once shared with Spencer, hiding in the shadows, mocking and berating you.
Alcohol was your only friend, when you were home alone. The only thing that worked and numbed the pain.
Numbed the loneliness.
Numb the void in your heart.
You get up from the couch, holding the fourth bottle of beer in your hand, as you walk to the small vase above the fireplace, turning it around, until the engagement rings fall into your palm.
You stare at them, feeling as if they're mocking you too. Making you feel like a fool, for believing that you could ever compete with JJ.
A blond, badass woman, with a killer body and mesmerizing blue eyes.
Who wouldn't want a woman like that?
How can you compete, somewhere you don't even compare?
Your heart was feeling like it was breaking every time you thought of the way, things between you and Spencer, ended. But even when you feel like you're on the verge of tears, nothing comes. You just stand there, feeling empty.
An empty husk of the person you were before.
.
When Garcia, Emily, Tara, Rossi and even Luke, found out what happened between you and Spencer, they didn't stop checking in with you.
You might not be part of the team, but you are part of the family. A fact that won't change just because you and Spencer are no longer together.
Garcia brought you bags, full of colorful pieces of decoration to give your apartment some life, while Emily and Tara made sure to take you out for drinks every Sunday.
Rossi would come and cook for you on Saturdays, (or you would go to his house), while Luke brings Roxy over, every Friday, and spends the night with you, watching movies and TV shows, while munching on junk food.
They made sure to never, ever leave you alone. That you wouldn't feel as abandoned as you thought you were.
But, even though their presence around you, is a welcoming ray of sunlight into your deep, suffocating darkness; Spencer's absence was still something you were struggling to accept.
You sometimes went to bed, begging, praying, that this is nothing but a bad dream, that's gonna end when you wake up in the morning. That you'll open your eyes the next day, and you'll be back into Spencer's arms.
.
You tried therapy ever since he left. But when it came to voicing out, the fact that Spencer left and is not coming back, made it all too real for you.
And you hated it.
It was like the day your dad left you. He promised... he swore, he would always be there for you, no matter what happens.
But one morning, you woke up to your mother crying in the kitchen, clenching a piece of paper in her hand.
Her pained voice, when she told you that your father left and won't be coming back, has been marked with a piece of hot iron, in your mind, playing over and over again, in the most inconvenient moments.
For years and years on end, you blamed yourself for your father leaving you and your mother.
It took years of therapy and patience and inner work, to realize that it wasn't your fault. But the day Spencer left, you knew... you knew, you were back to square one.
You tried to convince yourself that it wasn't your fault and that he is a grown man, who made a choice. Yet, whenever you tried to argue, the voices in your head came back to life... laughing at you.
"Everyone eventually leaves... because of you," you heard them whisper, while you were asleep (or trying to fall asleep).
The thought of him being happy with someone who is not you made your blood boil with jealousy and anger.
It was supposed to be you
You were supposed to be his significant other. You were supposed to make him laugh. YOU were supposed to make him feel loved and desired and cared for.
