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Literature Text
*10 years ago (places reader at about 7 or 8)*
I walked over to my neighbor's house, blood dripping down my chin. I shakily bring my hand up and knock on the door. After a few moments, the door opens and I see Spencer's frame fill the doorway.
"(M/N)!?!? What happened to you?" He took my wrist lightly and pulled me inside. I took my too-big t-shirt and wiped a tear from my face, my voice shake-y.
"Y-you know h-how you said t-to tell y-you if a-anything w-was wrong? A-anything h-h-happened?" I sniffle, using the cuff of my sleeve to wipe my nose.
"Yes, I do. What happened? Are you okay?"
"C-can I s-stay here tonight? I d-don't feel safe at h-home..." I look at my bare feet, and wiggle my toes.
"Of course. Of course, uh, here. I'll figure something out for you to sleep, but let's get your face cleaned up." He walks to his kitchen, and I wiggle and squirm my way onto a bar stool, and sit up and look at him curiously. He turns around with a towel and wipes the blood from my face. I always kept a spare pair of clothes on the fire escape and I remember them as he turns away, so I hop down and run out, climbing out of his window.
"(M/N)? (M/N)!" He calls. I grab the clothes and make my way back inside.
"I...I've always h-had spare clothes out there. I s-sleep out there sometimes" I look up at him and his eyes soften. He nods and I run into his bathroom to change. I come out in clean clothes and I gently drag my too-big shirt behind me. He takes it from me and throws it in the trash.
"You don't have to go home if you don't want to. You can stay here. I'll protect you. You've seen who I work with, right? The big guys?" I nod.
"Hotch and Morgan" He smiles.
"Right. They'll make sure you don't have to go back, okay?" I nod, and look at my toes again.
"Promise?" I ask. He holds out his pinky and I intertwine it with mine.
*Present. (17 or 18 year old reader)*
I come home and drop my bag on the couch, flopping after it. I pull out my phone and text Spencer.
when will you be home? Am I making dinner or are you bringing something?
Won't be home until tomorrow. Sorry
Don't worry about it
I let my phone drop on my chest and I smile at the ceiling. A lot of people say he's not a good parent, but if only they knew who I lived with before.
I walked over to my neighbor's house, blood dripping down my chin. I shakily bring my hand up and knock on the door. After a few moments, the door opens and I see Spencer's frame fill the doorway.
"(M/N)!?!? What happened to you?" He took my wrist lightly and pulled me inside. I took my too-big t-shirt and wiped a tear from my face, my voice shake-y.
"Y-you know h-how you said t-to tell y-you if a-anything w-was wrong? A-anything h-h-happened?" I sniffle, using the cuff of my sleeve to wipe my nose.
"Yes, I do. What happened? Are you okay?"
"C-can I s-stay here tonight? I d-don't feel safe at h-home..." I look at my bare feet, and wiggle my toes.
"Of course. Of course, uh, here. I'll figure something out for you to sleep, but let's get your face cleaned up." He walks to his kitchen, and I wiggle and squirm my way onto a bar stool, and sit up and look at him curiously. He turns around with a towel and wipes the blood from my face. I always kept a spare pair of clothes on the fire escape and I remember them as he turns away, so I hop down and run out, climbing out of his window.
"(M/N)? (M/N)!" He calls. I grab the clothes and make my way back inside.
"I...I've always h-had spare clothes out there. I s-sleep out there sometimes" I look up at him and his eyes soften. He nods and I run into his bathroom to change. I come out in clean clothes and I gently drag my too-big shirt behind me. He takes it from me and throws it in the trash.
"You don't have to go home if you don't want to. You can stay here. I'll protect you. You've seen who I work with, right? The big guys?" I nod.
"Hotch and Morgan" He smiles.
"Right. They'll make sure you don't have to go back, okay?" I nod, and look at my toes again.
"Promise?" I ask. He holds out his pinky and I intertwine it with mine.
*Present. (17 or 18 year old reader)*
I come home and drop my bag on the couch, flopping after it. I pull out my phone and text Spencer.
when will you be home? Am I making dinner or are you bringing something?
Won't be home until tomorrow. Sorry
Don't worry about it
I let my phone drop on my chest and I smile at the ceiling. A lot of people say he's not a good parent, but if only they knew who I lived with before.
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I dunno. Have a fluff thingymabobber
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Spence would be a good dad I think