George Weasley In Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire

George Weasley in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

this is me trying | s.r

summary // spencer fell in love with you months ago while working on a case. as much as he tried to have boundaries, something about rescuing you etched onto his heart forever. each month, he sends you money to keep you on your feet. but tonight, you need more than a bank deposit.

pairing // spencer reid x fem!victim!reader

genre // angst

rating // mature

word count // 1.9k

warnings // mutual pining, friends (?) to lovers, major character death!, mentions of violent crime, victimization, s*xual assault mention, mention of s*x crimes, mentions of s*x work, medical mention, mention of guns, needle mention, trauma, alcohol/intoxication, drug addiction, overdose, negative self talk/self image, rehab mention, kissing. oh and I barely proofread this. please let me know if i forgot anything.

Spencer was sitting on his couch, calmly sipping on a cup of white wine and settling in to read the novel he had excitedly bought from the bookstore earlier that day. The rain outside spattered against his window while the moonlight glimmered through the curtains. Spencer found himself lost in the book as he sat, finding peace in the story that his mother had read to him a million times before. He had been over the moon to find a vintage copy of it, and he knew if you'd been with him you'd have encouraged him to buy it.

Just as Spencer had reached one of his favorite chapters, there was a small rap at the door. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, setting his mug down onto the coffee table in front of him. He glanced at the gun on his side table, tucking into the waistband of his pants - just in case. The brunette walked to the door and glanced through the peephole, startled to see you standing there. You had your arms wrapped tightly around your body, shaking from the cold rain. Spencer swung the door open hurriedly, his voice cracking as he began to speak.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

But before your feet could carry you through the door, you felt yourself falling. Spencer reached out quickly to grab you. Spencer could smell the faintest scent of alcohol on your breath.

"Y/n..."

Spencer had seen wounds more times than he could count. He had seen corpses mangled beyond belief. Human suffering was like an old ghost that haunted his days. But when Spencer looked at you, he could see the pain that was scattered somewhere deep beyond the surface, intertwining itself in the confines of your heart.

"What did you do? Hmm?," Spencer queried softly and kindly, kneeling down to help you to your feet. He pulled you to his side, helping you into his apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him, sitting you down gently on the couch.

He was shocked to see you at his apartment, but he tried not to show it. "Let me get you a glass of water, okay?"

You watched with blurry eyes as Spencer headed into the kitchen. You could see him from the living room. He filled up a glass from the sink and brought it out.

"Tiny little sips," he instructed, hoping you wouldn't get sick.

"Are you mad at me, Spencer? For coming here?"

Spencer looked at you with the deepest compassion in his brown eyes. He shook his head, using his fingers to steady the cup and give you a drink.

__________________________

The minute the unsub hit the floor, Spencer was running over to you. He moved quickly to rip the duct tape off your mouth. It stung, but it didn’t hurt more than what you had already endured over the last fourteen days. You were kicking your feet desperately, as you were unable to move your arms. They were strung over your head. Spencer was breathing heavily, doing his best to untie the ropes. Finally, he was able to unbind you. You fell forward, immediately gripping onto his Kevlar vest. Spencer had just become your hero. He had saved you from a sadist who had kept you captive - that was enough to forge an attachment deep into your psyche. When the medics came over to put you onto the gurney, you refused to let go of Spencer. You dug your hands around the side of his vest, resisting the futile attempts of the emergency medical technicians.

Spencer brought his hands up to yours. “Hey, y/n? What if I came with you? We need you to go to the hospital so you can get checked out and fixed up. Okay?” You refused to speak, just nodding. Spencer smiled warmly, offering to help get you onto the gurney. The medics began to speak to you as they wheeled you out of the abandoned building and into the ambulance, but you couldn’t form words. “Miss y/l/n, can you tell me if you’re in any pain? Do you have any injuries?” You stared up at the lights at the top of the ambulance, reaching out for Spencer’s hand. Nervously, he grabbed your hand. “Miss y/l/n, did the attacker hurt you?” You moved away from the medic, letting out a whimper. Spencer looked at the medic with a slight tinge of annoyance. “I think she just needs some space.”

_______________________________

You opened up your beaten-up old purse and pulled out an envelope. You shoved it against Spencer’s chest. You slurred, standing up wobbly on your feet. “I just w-wanted to give you your money back.” “What?” Spencer said shocked, opening up the envelope and pulling out a few hundred dollar bills.

Spencer had spent days with you in the hospital. He was the only one you would speak to. He collected information from you, stayed during your rape kit, and even stayed up all night with you.

He had gotten to know all your favorite things. He found out that you had been on the streets since you were a preteen and learned the intricate details of your trauma. But, he also learned also that you loved classical literature and mathematics.

Through all of this, you and Spencer had become extremely close. Spencer, being the good man that he was, offered to meet you every Sunday. He would buy you a warm breakfast and give you enough money to make it through the week without having to turn tricks.

Spencer cherished those moments, watching you with twinkling eyes as you devoured your only hot breakfast of the week. Sometimes, you would grin, holding out your fork for Spencer to take a bite of your banana pancakes. In return, Spencer would take part of his blueberry pancakes and place them onto your plate. It had been over six months since he rescued you. You had forged a beautiful friendship - full of laughter and sharing of the darkest parts of yourselves.

But now, you stood before him, fully prepared to push him away forever. “I’m not your charity case, S-Spencer.” You wobbled toward the doorway and Spencer sped up to grab you gently. He spun you around and you looked into his eyes, unable to hide the tears brimming in your waterline.

“Is that what you think you are to me, y/n?” You pushed him away gently. “That’s what I know that I am.”

As he held your wrists gently in his hands, he turned your arms palm up. On the inside of your elbows, he saw fresh marks - a clear indication that you were using again. “Y/n…”

“What?! You’re shocked?! You’re shocked that I’m fucking getting high again? That I’m out there on my back again?!” You chuckled sarcastically. “Some fucking profiler you are.” Spencer felt his heart hammering in his chest. Tears were caught in the center of his throat, but he pushed them down. “Please, don’t go. Stay here.”

“Why? Are you going to pay me? I charge by the night now, you know.” The words spilled from your mouth, dripping with venom. The truth was that you abhorred the woman you saw in the mirror. You felt that you would never be good enough for Spencer - the beautiful genius with a heart of gold.

“Because I care about you, okay?”

The room fell silent. Spencer dropped your wrists and you recoiled just slightly. “You don’t mean that,” you decided, your voice coming out just a decibel above a whisper. He reached out and touched your cheek, one of your tears splashing against his fingertips. “I do. I want to help you get better, y/n. Please.”

The room was silent as Spencer looked at the track marks on your arms again. He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. Knowing you had relapsed, despite everything, tore his heart to bits. Before he could help it, tears began to slide down his face. “Come sit on the couch for a bit, yeah?” You nodded, letting Spencer guide you back over to his sofa. He pulled you close to him, pulling the blanket around both of you.

“I’m...I’m scared, Spencer. But please don’t cry, not on account of me. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes fixated on his soft, plush lips. You leaned forward, letting your lips meet his. Spencer had waited for this moment for months, as had you. But yet it still came as a shock that it was actually happening. Spencer had told himself you were friends and nothing more. He had sworn up and down to Hotch, Morgan, and Garcia that it was completely professional. He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to the kiss, bringing his hands down to cup your face. Slowly, you scooted forward, reaching for his belt buckle.

Spencer quickly moved to place his hand on yours. “No, no, none of that. I don’t want that.”

It was unusual for you. You had never met a man who just wanted to kiss you, and nothing more. “Just...just kisses?” Spencer smiled, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Just kisses.”

“I’ve w-wanted to kiss you for a long time, Spence,” you admitted, lacing your hands in his.

“Y/n?”

“Will you get help? Please.”

“I...I don’t know anything else, Spencer. This is all I’ve ever been...I don’t feel worth--” Spencer shut you up with a kiss, pulling apart to press his forehead to yours. “You are worth everything, do you hear me? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

“I don’t want to go away, Spencer. I...I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have kissed you. I have to go.” “I’ll visit you every single day.” “I’m...I have to go, Spencer.”

You stood up fast this time, stumbling as you rushed toward the door. Spencer moved as quick as he could but you were out the door, leaving him standing on the porch. He watched as you rushed off into the rain. “Y/n!”

The rain splattered loudly against the roof, but Spencer continued to call out to you. “Y/n!” It was to no avail. You were gone, leaving the Good Doctor alone on his porch, praying for a miracle to a God he didn’t even believe existed.

_________________________ The next day, Spencer sat down at the round table, sipping on a strong cup of coffee. The rest of the room was eerily silent, avoiding eye contact with him. “What?” He snapped, acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“Y/n Y/l/n…,” JJ began, sliding a folder across the table to Spencer. “We got the alert, since she was a victim.” “Was? You said was…” He mumbled, flipping open the folder. His coffee cup landed with a clatter onto the table, liquid splashing onto the floor. Garcia moved quickly to grab it as Spencer stared at the images in front of him. “I’m sorry, man. OD,” Morgan said. “I know you had been helping her through some stuff. We can’t find any loved ones….” The team had no idea just how much he’d helped you. He left everyone standing there confused as he rushed out of the room, getting himself into the bathroom just in time to slide down the wall, loud sobs bursting from his lungs. “Kid?” Derek’s voice came calling as the door opened. “Hey…” Derek knelt down, looking at Spencer as he cried. “Oh man...don’t tell me...Reid…”

“I loved her, Derek, I loved her.” Derek pulled him into a hug, mimicking that moment so many months ago when you’d refused to leave Spencer’s arms.

____________________ criminal minds and/or spencer reid taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @k-k0129 @awritingtree @ssavanessa22 *Please fill out the form in my navigation to be added to my taglist!*

i know what you did last summer | g.w.

In which George Weasley is your forever. // MASTERLIST. Word Count: 3k Warnings: Muggle AU, angst, mentions of blood and food, use of a firearm, death, a break-in, swearing, burning of a corpse. Flashbacks in italics.

May had always been one of the wetter months. With a steady, consistent downpour every few days and raindrops sliding down the leaves of porch plants, it was one of the reasons it was one of your favorite months. This past May, however, had been different. As if with the droplets of rain that fell down from the heavens came along a change in those around you. This significant change in behavior could be easily spotted in one George Weasley.

Georgie, to you. Sometimes ‘darling’, other times ‘George’ in a stern voice. Despite the bumps that came with the road of a relationship, you always found your way back to your Georgie. And he made it clear he would always find his way back to you.

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txtdreamss

4 years ago

definitely not crying over fictional characters again

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