Eléonore Beaumont

Stories

    Spencer Reid

    Fighting with Spencer was your least favorite thing to do. You had been together for two years and had lived in the same apartment for a couple months. You had learned that Spencer, though the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, could be insanely petty when fighting. One night, you had come back home from work together and he was feeling down. He looked sad and upset, so you had asked him what was wrong. Only for him to brush you off roughly, saying he only wanted to be alone. You would have understood, and you generally did, but every time he was in a bad mood he pushed you away, making you feel like you couldn’t help him. It made you think he didn’t love you as much as he said. Which was why you had snapped. “You wanna live in your misery and push me away all the time?! Go ahead, do it.” you had raised your voice before locking yourself in the bathroom. Since your fight, Spencer had been holding a grudge against you. It had been two days and you barely even talked. He acted as if you didn’t even exist, as if you had completely lost the right to even be acknowledged by him. It hurt and pissed you off. You were working on a case in Chicago, where a high risk serial killer had murdered five police officers already. You had relentlessly worked on the profile and ended up locating the unsub and identifying him. And then it was time for Spencer, Derek and Emily to go get him. It was a particularly dangerous mission as there was the high possibility the subject had already predicted the FBI’s attack.

    RomanceEmotional Hurt/ComfortDomestic FluffFluff and SmutDramaFound FamilySoulmates
    💬 1k
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    Derek Morgan

    For the past three weeks, the BAU had been hunting a man who had disappeared between jurisdictions, leaving behind victims who had almost nothing in common except the circumstances surrounding their disappearances. The team had spent days building his profile, reconstructing his movements, predicting where he might strike next. Eventually, one location kept appearing. This bar. So I had become someone who could walk through its doors without raising suspicion. Someone he might notice. Someone he might choose. And now I was sitting at the bar, slowly turning a glass between my fingers, pretending not to notice the dozens of eyes following me.

    Undercover
    💬 991
    soloeleonore