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roxygen22 · 25 days

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Still Here

Chapter 1

Summary: After the life and home you built falls apart, you serendipitously bump into your old high school sweetheart, Timothée.

C/W: Divorce, mention of complicated pregnancy (nothing graphic)

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"I thought you were too good for this place, [Y/N]."

You spun around in the grocery store aisle to see your high school sweetheart, Timothée, holding a box of cereal in one hand, a shopping basket in the other, and a smirk on his face. His still very handsome face. He seemed to take great pleasure in the look of shock on yours.

"Timmy," you breathed.

"You came back."

The road ahead of you seemed to go on and on and on. You hadn't seen another car in at least an hour as you drove across the plains of Kansas. Your nine year old daughter, Madison, was asleep in the back seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Alone. That word didn't sit well with you.

A nasty divorce left you with nothing but what you could pack in your car. You had nowhere to go except back to your tiny hometown across the country in rural Tennessee to move back in with your parents. You hadn't been back since you graduated from high school 12 years ago.

You were valedictorian and had your pick of schools. Much to your parents' chagrin, you were itching to get as far away from the "sticks" as possible, so you applied to universities all along the West Coast. You were over the moon when you received a full ride to UCLA to study biomedical engineering, where you met...him. Your now ex-husband. The two of you met during convocation festivities your freshman, his junior year. You had just left your friends behind in Tennessee and had not yet built a local support network, so you latched onto this cute, kind man who picked up the book you dropped.

The kind man who later left you and your daughter to live with a younger woman who "gets" him better.

You and he dated for a little over a year before he asked you to marry him. Not one for big productions, you decided for a courthouse ceremony a few days later because you just couldn't wait to be joined with the love of your life in marriage forever. You were soon pregnant. Unfortunately, the pregnancy was not an easy one. Severe morning (more like morning, noon, and night) sickness led to multiple hospitalizations, forcing you to miss classes. You eventually reached a point of no return and had to drop out.

Your husband was still able to finish university, though, and was luckily able to quickly secure stable employment, which allowed you to stay home to care for your newborn baby. As the years passed, he became increasingly distant, staying late at work or making excuses to leave again once he was home. You weren't surprised when, after ten years of marriage, he told you he wanted a divorce, because you did, too. But you had no way to support yourself and a child. You hadn't held down a job since before Madison was born. Your work history prior to that was limited because you were so young. You had no collateral or credit history, either. Everything had been in his name.

You had to start over. You had to go back to the beginning.

Tennessee.

"You came back."

"Yes, I just recently moved back in with my parents. I-"

"Mom, can we get some chips? Nana doesn't have any good snacks," Madison complained behind you as she came back to the same aisle. Timothée went wide-eyed as he looked at the girl and then back at you. She leaned around you to stare back at him. "Who's he?"

"This is my- uh- friend from high school, Timothée. Timothée, this is my daughter, Madison."

"Whoa. She looks just like you did at that age." He shook his head as if to clear a fog. "Where are my manners?" he quipped as he stepped around you and held out his hand to her. "It's nice to meet you, Madison. Your mother and I go way back."

"You knew my mom when she was my age?"

"Before that, even. We went to school together all the way from kindergarten to senior year until she moved to California for college," Timothée replied before locking eyes with you. "She was very eager to get out of here, so I am rather surprised to run into her today."

"It's a long story." You cleared the lump forming in your throat and looked down at Madison. "We should get going. We need to get these groceries home and refrigerated again."

"Right, well, maybe I'll see you around again now that you are back in town." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm sure we will bump into each other." Hopefully, you thought to yourself. "It's a small town - that's practically inevitable."

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Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

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Tag List: @croatianprincess

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #reader insert #female reader #mom reader #single mom #divorce #high school sweethearts #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet imagine #single parenting #single parent #whump #angst

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 9 months

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Catching Out: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: Spencer has his suspicions about your parents but you refuse to even listen to him. There is nothing going on with your parents... right? No, they’re normal parents that are just overprotective of you. Spencer is just being paranoid.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: So, I know in previous episodes I had mentioned the reader's birthday is in February, but I forgot that when I wrote this episode. I have decided to change it to April since I've also based some other episodes around her birthday being in April. So, from now on, the reader's birthday is now in April.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"Plenty sit still. Hunger is a wanderer." - Zulu proverb

The first thing Spencer always does when he gets into work is go straight to the breakroom and make himself a cup of coffee. He usually makes yours, but JJ got you coffee this morning when she came in. Spencer's brow has been furrowed ever since he first came in, and you know exactly why.

It's your parents. You didn't think they would have behaved the way they did. Your mom wasn't as bad as your dad, but you could feel how they both felt. They were pissed, but you're not exactly sure why.

"Spencer, it was one bad dinner. You're telling me you don't have bad days?"

"This was more than that, Y/N. Something is bugging me about this."

"Spencer, it's nothing. They just had a bad day, that's all."

"What's got you getting premature wrinkles?" Emily asks when she walks in.

"It's my parents. They didn't take to Spencer well," you sigh.

"It's not her parents, it's her dad," Spencer says and finishes up stirring his coffee.

"You have a strict dad? I know a little about that," Emily chuckles.

"He's always been like that, though. Whenever I brought home a boy, he'd become this scary man and run them off. He always said they were never good enough for me. I won't let that happen to you, Spencer," you shrug. "He's just being protective."

"He's being possessive."

"Spencer," you sigh and look at him.

"Are you his only daughter?" Emily asks.

"His only biological daughter. He fosters a bunch of kids, or he did. I can't imagine them still doing that." You don't want to talk about this anymore, so you turn to something that you know will bring everyone's spirits up. "It's your birthday soon, baby. That's exciting."

"I guess," Spencer shrugs.

He's never liked his birthday, but you're going to make it memorable for him. He is turning twenty-seven, and you're going to turn twenty-six four months after him.

"I'll make this one memorable," you wink at him. The glass doors open and Derek walks in with a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I met this incredible woman at this coffee shop, but she kind of rejected me. She knew who I was, but I've never met her before in my life."

"She knew your name?" Spencer asks.

"I don't know how I could forget a face like hers."

"You've been with so many girls that you can't remember all their names?"

"Oh, come on, are you surprised?" Emily scoffs.

"This has never happened to me before."

"It hasn't happened to me before either," Spencer shrugs.

"Well, it can't happen to you. You have an eidetic memory."

"Besides, you only got one name to remember," Derek smirks.

"Hey, it's not nice to tease," you pout and kiss Spencer's cheek. "I was pretty memorable last night. Twice, in fact."

Spencer blushes at the memory of you two last night. How could he ever forget? All four of you head to the briefing room to meet with everyone. JJ is ready to start the briefing, and when you take your seats, she starts.

"Okay, six victims have been killed in a series of burglaries/homicides all over central California. Bakersfield, Fresno, Chico, and two nights ago, Alan and Brenda Paisley in Sacramento."

"That's a big area. Are we sure it's the same unsub?"

"His DNA was found in all of the homes. They hadn't connected it because he crossed jurisdictional lines. The head of the Sacramento field office has established a multi-agency task force, and he wants us to run point."

"It looks like we got a lot of investigators on this one."

"We'll streamline it if we need to."

"You should know that they've already named him the 'Highway 99 Killer'," JJ says.

"We'll deal with that when we get there."

"He targets one to two-person households. He kills the victims while they sleep. It looks like he uses blunt force trauma with objects found at the home. Multiple bashes to the head," Spencer reads through the file.

"After he kills the victims, he ransacks the homes for valuables," JJ says. "What's unique about this unsub is that after he kills them, he sits down to have dinner in their homes. They found his DNA all over the food and the table."

"Are these burglaries that turned into homicides or homicides that turned into burglaries?" Rossi asks.

"Between the two offenses, it seems the primary motivation is homicide. Otherwise, he would have just stolen the items and fled."

"He stays there for hours, he eats their food, he tries on their clothes, he showers, and he even sleeps in their beds. It's like if Goldilocks became a serial killer," Emily jokes. "They've got plenty of DNA, but they found no fingerprints. If he doesn't take their cars, how does he get there?"

"There are no witness reports of strange cars on the street."

"So, there's no prints, no gun, no noise, no car, and no witnesses. This all adds up to prior experience."

"There has to be a record of him somewhere."

"Until we find it, he'd have moved onto another town, which could be anywhere. Wheels up in twenty."

You and the rest of the team take twenty minutes to get ready, and before you know it, you're already in the air. You're sitting next to Spencer who has a map of California only relevant to the areas involved with the murders; so, not the entire map of California. He has a red Sharpie in his hand, and you stare at the way he holds his pens. He doesn't hold it like a normal person would.

"You hold your pens weird," you say and look into his eyes. He scrunches his face in confusion, but you lean up and kiss his cheek. "It's cute."

"So, our unsub hit four homes in about five weeks. The first one is at the beginning of September in Bakersfield. Then, in Fresno a week later. Eight days later, he hit Chico."

As JJ talks, Spencer marks the areas with circles and the dates to have a record of where he's been. Maybe you can determine where he's going next.

"Then, he changes direction and heads south to Sacramento at the end of September."

"These crime scenes are spread out over four hundred miles. I mean, how many serial killers move around like that?" JJ asks.

"Not many. Of the ones who do, we categorize them into two subgroups. In one model, he's an itinerant homeless person, someone who's been displaced. With the second type, their occupation allows them to travel. He could be killing while on business."

"Would a truck driver make sense?"

"Long-haul truck driver Bruce Mendenhall shot his victims and disposed of their bodies at truck stops across four different states," Spencer says.

It's a possibility.

"Mendenhall targeted mostly high-risk victims: prostitutes and hitchhikers that he picked up right off the highway. I don't think it's a truck driver. They'd use their rigs to get away, and someone would have noticed a tractor-trailer parked in the neighborhood," Hotch dismisses that idea.

"How about someone in corporate sales? They still travel," Rossi suggests.

"Or computer professionals. They travel to install the software. Maybe someone in real estate like a land assessor?"

"They just discovered a new murder in Modesto," JJ says with her phone in her hand.

"He went south again," Spencer sighs and marks that on the map.

"Right, when we land, Reid, JJ and I will go to the task force headquarters. The four of you to Modesto," Hotch says to you, Rossi, Derek, and Emily. "We're going to log some miles on this one."

The first stop was Modesto to drop off you and the others before the rest went up north in Sacramento. It's only an hour's drive between the two cities, so if you're needed up there, then you can drive. The detective on the case, Detective Daniels, meets you at the newest crime scene. The murders just happened, so the house is soaked with energy, trauma, and blood. You can feel it just by standing on the side of the road.

"I'm Detective Daniels. It's nice to meet you."

"How are you doing?" Derek asks. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Agent Rossi, Agent Prentiss, and Agent Y/N."

Detective Daniels walks with you to the house, but you pause before your feet can touch the porch steps. Besides the obvious energies inside the house, you look around at the neighborhood. No dogs are barking and no sign of an alarm system, but they do have outdoor lights. The neighbor says they didn't turn it on, and the unsub knew that.

The three basic things any burglar looks for are dogs, alarms, and lights. That tells you the unsub is patient enough to find a vulnerable house.

"I'm going to talk to the neighbor," Emily says.

The detective and Derek walk into the house, but you can't seem to take a step toward it. Rossi is about to go in when he notices you have frozen.

"Are you okay?"

"This house is oozing death and spiritual energy. Rossi, it's everywhere," you whisper.

"It'll be okay. Come on."

Rossi escorts you inside, which is much worse than the outside. There is blood everywhere but only you can see it. Blood oozes down the walls and is caked on the furniture, and it doesn't help that you can clearly see the spirits of the deceased still in their beds. The unsub is a black shadow, but you can clearly see him take an iron and smash it over their heads while they are sleeping.

You have to look away because this is too brutal.

"What do you see?" Derek asks.

"You don't want to know."

Derek walks into the bathroom and notices two bottles of nail polish remover out along with some washcloths and a plastic baggie.

"Check this out." Derek shows you what he found. "I've seen this kind of thing before with burglaries when the criminal is a substance abuser. Oftentimes, they huff household cleaners just so they can get high."

"What was his point of entry?" Rossi asks.

"The laundry room window."

"It explains where he found the murder weapon," you mutter and stare at the bloody iron. "This is serious overkill. He's killing with rage. I saw it."

"You saw it?"

"How does a man with such rage calm himself down enough to make coffee and eggs?" Rossi asks, getting the detective back on track.

"He's disorganized, picks an opportunistic weapon at a crime scene, and strikes with rage. Though, he's organized enough to follow through with a ritual enough after he kills. He cleans up, goes through their things, and eats."

"It's very unusual. The intensity of the rage followed by a long period of calmness spent inside the house is not common."

"Can you explain what he does with his clothes?"

"His clothes?"

Detective Daniels holds up dirty clothes with gloved hands. The unsub was wearing these when he entered the house, and he must have stolen the clothes here to change into. You put some gloves on before reaching out to them.

"May I?"

Daniels hands over the clothes, and you concentrate on the energy left behind on them. You're getting a lot of emotion and fear, and that allows you to see bits and pieces of what the unsub might have been doing before coming here. Train tracks pop into your head, and you can't seem to get that out.

"I see train tracks," you tell your team.

"When we found the deceased, the shirt was placed over his chest and the pants over his legs," Daniels explains.

"This is the first time we're hearing about this."

"Why would he cover up the body?"

"He wears their clean clothes, sleeps in their nice bed, and then puts his dirty clothes on the male victim's body. This might be some form of transference," you say.

"Transfer of what?"

"By symbolically dressing Mr. Sullivan in his clothes, he's equalizing their status. Mr. Sullivan has all these things and he doesn't. This guy has a problem with his station in life. He can't bring himself up on his own, so he makes himself feel better by destroying others and living their lives."

"That might be why he stays so long. He needs that time just so he can feel at home and pretends this is all his," Derek back you up. "He's playing out his fantasy."

"Given this behavior--the dirty clothes and the cheap drug choice--I'd say we're looking for someone homeless."

"How does a homeless man move about the state like this?" Daniels asks.

"There's a reason I saw the train tracks, Rossi," you say and take out your phone to call your boyfriend. "Hey, are you in front of a map?"

"I am now."

"Good. I think I know how the unsub is getting around. Do you see train tracks linking Bakersfield and Sacramento?"

"I'll be damned. He's hopping trains," Spencer confirms.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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lovebillyhargrove · 11 months

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It's time to fix things. Billy's camaro fic

***

The telephone rings and the shrill sounds send Steve's heart and stomach down the rollercoaster.

Maybe ..

No, it's probably mom. Although she never calls after 9pm.

Steve's picking up the receiver and notices that his fingers are shaking. Just a bit.

Ohh, he's so pathetic, he hates himself.

"Heey Steve my man! Haven't heard from you in a while. How're you doing?"

"Oh, hi .. Hi, Dustin." -

Steve sighs. -

"I'm .. great. You?"

That was probably the fastest and the shortest rollercoaster of Steve's life.

It's just Dustin. What did he expect.

"Yeah, not bad, not bad .. Hey, I hope you remember it's my birthday next week, and I'm having a party."

"Oh? Cool. Is it your birthday already?"

"Yep. And you're invited."

"Thanks. Next week? I'll try to make it."

"You'll try to make it?"

"No, no, I'll make it. Of course. I'll be there."

"Great! You doing okay?"

"Yeah yeah, everything is good."

Everything's in shambles.

"It's just that we never talk anymore."

"Yeah, I dunno .. adult life is boring, buddy. I mostly work."

"Ugh. Yeah, okay. I'll call you in a couple of days to let you know the details, yeah?"

"Deal. Later!"

"Bye, Steve."

Well, yep. It was Dustin. Steve starts in the direction of the bathroom when the phone rings. Again.

And the rollercoaster is back.

Heart up

"Hello??"

"Steve," -

Heart down. Wrong voice. -

"it's me again. Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure man, shoot."

"I just need to rent a couple of tapes, and I sure would appreciate a discount. Or a freebie. You working tomorrow?"

"Yup. All day."

"I'll drop by at about 3, right after school."

"Sure. Good night, Dustin."

"Bye! See you tomorrow!"

Steve actually doesn't want to go to bed just now. Maybe he should go out for a smoke. He does it, from time to time now, after Billy has left. He usually doesn't smoke much but he has a packet of cigarettes laying around just in case.

He's pretty sure now's the case.

Steve grabs the cigarettes and the lighter, and puts on a jacket cause it's chilly outside but the phone rings again.

"Yes, Dustin?"

"Oh. Hi. Steve. This is El. From California."

"El ?? .. Hi! I'm sorry, I thought it was Dustin cause he called like .. a couple of minutes ago?"

"No problem. Billy wants to talk to you, Steve."

Excuse me, WHAT??? Billy's in California? With El??

The rollercoaster catches him by surprise. He's not prepared.

There's some commotion at the other end of the line and Steve hears the muffled

"I don't want to!" and "Stop being so stubborn, you lovesick loser!"

Well, El's definitely acing English ..

"I'm not a lovesick loser! Look at yourself! .. Ouch!"

El is giggling and Steve's suddenly jealous. He wants to be with Billy. He wants to have the cute little moments, all of them, to himself. He wants to ..

"Hey, uh .. Harrington. How are you?"

His voice.

So that motherfucker is in California, laughing and .. wait, did he just say he "doesn't want to talk" ?

Steve's slamming the receiver back on the base. It's a very spontaneous decision which he regrets immediately but he's just so ..

Fuuuck !!

Hargrove's making him furious. He would happily strangle the asshole, with his bare hands.

Steve's straight up suffering here, and that fucker is what .. surfing there? Hanging out on the beach? With his old buddies and stuff?

The phone is silent, and Steve wants to find El's number and call back himself, but

He's not going to do it. Fuck this. He's got pride.

He's standing in the kitchen though. Not going outside for a smoke like he was going to.

Time's dripping

A minute later the phone rings.

Steve's waiting, he's not rushing to pick it up. Maybe he just shouldn't.

Oops, he's waited too long. Missed the call.

The phone rings right away, persistent.

Steve waits again and reluctantly picks it up after the 7th ring.

"Harrington, what the fuck??"

"No, Hargrove, YOU, YOU what the fuck?"

They are both yelling.

"What do you mean??"

"What do I mean?? You fucking left, and now you're in California??"

"Yeah well .. I had to! I left you a note!"

Steve's hands are itching to hit something. Instead, he takes out a cigarette and lights it up right in his kitchen. To hell with the smell, he'll air it later.

He's inhaling the smoke and doesn't say a word.

"Steve ..? Harrington? Look, man, I'm .. Okay, I'm sorry!! Are you happy now?"

"With what? Your fucking "sorry" ?? I'm very happy. Your "sorry" is just what I needed. As well as your stupid note! Where the fuck is my car, asshole??"

"Yeah, it's here .. with me. It's fine. Look, I couldn't take mine, but I figured you drove it anyway, you're like .. buddies now or whatever, so it wouldn't be that big of a deal!"

"Well, your precious camaro refuses to start, Hargrove! Been sitting in the garage for almost three weeks! The engine doesn't start. Guess how I'm getting to work?"

"I don't know! By taxi?"

"By bike, you moron! We're not in LA here to get to work by taxis!"

Steve has a feeling that Billy's snickering and covering the end of the receiver so that Harrington doesn't get to hear it.

"Are you fucking laughing at me there, amigo ?" - Steve's seething. - "You think it's a joke ??"

"No, Steve, I'm .. I'm very serious right now, look, I didn't know the camaro would act up! I thought everything was okay with the car .. I'm sorry, man."

"Can you just shove all your 'sorry's where the sun doesn't shine, Hargrove, and shut up ??" -

Fucking asshole. - "Are we done?"

"Steve, wait. Wait. We're not done. Look, I know. You saved me .. you .. you took me in, let me crash, fed me. Helped me and I .. I stole your car."

You damn did. Fucking jerk.

"Also I borrowed like .. 430 bucks. I took it from your drawer where you keep your cash."

"You what ?? Four hundred and thirty dollars??"

"Well, I needed money for gas!"

"Four hundred and thirty??"

"And for food!"

"You're a fucking thief, Hargrove!"

Oh, Steve's so mad.

He's mad.

You didn't just steal my car and my money. You stole my heart, you criminal.

"Add it to my tab. I promise, I'll give everything back! Well, if I can."

"What does it mean, if you can?"

Steve's still puffing on the cigarette and taking out another one.

"Yeah that's actually what I wanted to tell you .. I uh .. I'm not gonna be back. For a while."

Steve's literally feeling how his chest is bursting at the seams. Every bit of it. He's trying to sound distant and not caring but he's not sure he manages to do so

"Are you gonna be back .. at all?"

"I don't know. It depends."

Oh. It fucking depends.

"On what ??"

Steve's voice is bitter, he's trying to hide it but, again, he's not doing a good job.

"Steeve .."

The way Billy says his name, the way he makes the eee longer and the huskiness, the rasp, the pull of it, the magic .. fucking hell Steve's getting hard against his will

He would sell his soul to put his hands on Billy's body right this moment.

"Steve .. I would run to you. Right now. I'm .. I've been going crazy. I can't sleep, I can't do anything .. I want to see you so bad. I would literally get in my car .. your car right this second and drive without stopping .."

"Why don't you then?"

The bitterness is worse, Steve can taste it on his tongue.

"I have something to do first .. Listen. I uh .. we're leaving for Russia tomorrow. Gonna see if we can bring El's dad back. Her new dad. Hopper."

Oh.

***

Next chapter

#billy's camaro fic #billy's camaro #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fic

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