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reidsconverse · 4 years ago

Text

memories • spencer reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none! just 4000 words of pure angst

This was an old fic reworked to be about around spencer so its taking a lottt of creative/artistic liberty with the character, so it kinda sucks im sorry! 😁

Every moment you had with him was one to be remembered and cherished for better or worse.

It had been a few weeks since Spencer had officially ended things, he had moved all of his stuff out of your apartment and now it seemed as if he had never even existed in the same place as you, as though you two were strangers. That is had it not been for the images of memories the two of you held. So, here you were sat alone in your room, your only company the half-empty bottle of wine and photographs of the two of you which sat strewn carelessly across your floor.

You picked up a picture and stared at it realising you both looked so happy. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, a cup in his hand and his signature grin sitting across his face. Your head was leaning against his shoulder, the smile on your face reminding you of how free you had felt that night, you had never felt happier and you recognised that night as the night you realised...you were so in love.

"We should have a party," Spencer yelled despite there being no one else other than the two of you in the room.

"Right now?" You looked at him as if he was insane, not only was it completely out of character for your boyfriend but also, it was 1 am on a Wednesday and although your friends weren't those with a regular schedule you presumed most of them would decline a house party in the middle of the week.

"Yeah right now, c'mon doll I'll call Derek and some of the others and you call your friends." His hand was already on his phone texting Derek before you could protest so you followed his instructions and went ahead and invited your friends before getting up and preparing for this impromptu party.

It had only been 10 minutes when you heard Derek and some others open the door shouting for Spencer and you walked over with a grin on your face, "Hey D, Spencers being a diva and redoing his hair, he'll be right down." You said, rolling your eyes as Derek pulled you into a hug, he may have been Spencer's best friend but he thought of you as a sister and always treated you as such.

"Well I have look good for my girl," You heard Spencer say from behind you quickly placing a kiss on your cheek before doing his weird handshake with Derek, "Hey, thanks for coming'."

The three of you made your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and greet some more guests who had congregated in that area and before you knew it, you were 4 shots in, feeling way past tipsy and in the mood to dance.

"Hey Spence," You said walking over to where he was now sat, a cup in his hand as he held a conversation with JJ and Emily about something that you didn't care too much about. You waved a quick hello to the girls so as not to be rude and then placed your head on his shoulder to let him know of your presence.

"Hey darling, you feeling good?" He turned his face and flashed you a wide grin before wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to him. He enjoyed being near you whenever he could, when he was away he would long for the days where all he did was sit and hold you close to him regardless of what the two of you were doing, so now whenever he had the chance he would hold you close.

"Feelin' great Spence.. wanna dance with you..." You said pulling out of his hold and grabbing his hand leading him onto the 'dance floor', which was just the open space in your living room. He laughed and quickly finished his drink, discarding the cup somewhere in the room and held you as you both danced to the music playing through the speakers.

After a couple of songs, you both made your way to get another drink and get a break from the crowd, you sat at the kitchen island and passed him a drink."You know, considering you're a genius, I would've thought you'd be able to coordinate a bit better." You said teasing him about his choice of moves which had essentially been him waving his arms in the air attempting to be in tune with the music.

He looked at you in fake shock and scoffed, "Yeah well it was still better than whatever you were trying to do." Referring to your horrendous attempt at trying to be sexy which in truth was never going to be anything but embarrassing. You stuck your tongue out in a childish manner causing him to laugh and quickly move to place his lips against yours giving you a soft kiss.

You jumped down from the counter after pulling back as a couple of your friends walked in and struck up a conversation about nothing interesting yet you made the effort to look engaged as Spencers's arm slipped over your shoulders and you placed your head against his shoulder.

"Hey guys, look here." You both turned to see your friend Harry, as always with a polaroid camera in his hand. You and Spencer gave each other a quick smile before grinning wide for the camera, both your faces full of love and happiness.

You sat there thinking about how quickly things can change, the people in the image you held so young and naive to the struggles the future would hold. Taking another sip of your wine you skimmed through some more pictures before stopping at one that held a bittersweet meaning. A picture that was taken a few days after what had been your worst fight, you both looked happy but all you could think about the events leading up to the image being taken.

It was your and Spencers 5th anniversary and he had promised he would make it to dinner. You hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away on a case but he had promised he wouldn't miss this day, he had asked for permission from Hotch to leave for a couple of days so he would be there. "No excuses, No ifs and buts...I'll be there babe. I promise."

But there you were, alone at a table for two. The look on the waiters face held nothing but pity as he walked over for the fourth time to ask if someone would be joining you. Finally, you gave up and shook your head to let him know you would be leaving and would like the cheque. You had never felt so humiliated walking out of the restaurant head held high but tears building up in your eyes and so you cried. You felt so broken, almost as broken as all those promises Spencer had made you. The word promise and sorry had lost all meaning in the last 5 years, simply a courtesy rather than meaningful.

The minute you got home your phone began ringing, it was Spencer.

"Hey doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, the team wanted to go out last night and I kind of missed my -." He began to explain causing you to scoff, 'no ifs or buts' my ass.

"How could you?" Your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill for the second time that night. "I waited for 2 fucking hours Spencer, I felt like a fucking idiot."

"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you get my text?"

"No, I fucking didn't. I didn't get a fucking text. But that's not the fucking point, You should've been here, you promised you would be here."

"Babe, I'm so -," He began but you knew what he was gonna say. The only conversations you seemed to have were stuck on a loop like a broken record.

"Save it. Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it, stop saying sorry and show it instead."

"Look, I'll get on the first flight out. I'll see you in a few hours, I'll make it up to you I prom-." You hung up the phone before he could continue, his promise worth nothing to you anymore. Walking over to the couch, you fell asleep the minute your head rested against one of the many cushions populating the seat.

You woke up to keys jingling in the door, yet you made no effort to move from where you were. The sound of his footsteps got louder as he approached.

"Babe? I know you're up." He said, kneeling beside you making you sigh and sit up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared at him, it might have been petty but you didn't want to give in to his apologies just yet, he had to understand just how much he had hurt you first.

"I couldn't care less anymore, Spencer. I just need to remember that I'll always come second to work and that's fine, it's important to you and I understand that." You got up and walked over to the kitchen to gather yourself.

"Babe you are the most important thing to me, I'm sorry-."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Here we go again, Spencer there's only so many times you can say you're sorry before it loses all meaning. I'm sick and tired of this, I don't know if I can do this anymore. You're never here, you make promises you can never keep and I'm pretty sure you've told me you're sorry more times than you've told me you love me."

"Please don't do this. I love you." His voice was shaking, breaking down at the thought of you leaving him. He moved over to you and turned you so you were facing him. "I know this means nothing to you but I am so sorry. I've been so shitty to you and I know it."

"Spencer, I deserve better than this and I'm sick of forgiving you and acting like I'm fine with how you treat me, you might not mean it but it fucking hurts. I love you so much and I know you love me but would it kill you to put me first for once in your fucking life."

This annoyed him, the lack of sleep and being overworked leaving him less patient and more irritable, "That's not fucking fair, you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating me, I'm doing my fucking best. I go to work for US, to support US. If I could devote all of my time to you if I could, but I can't and it fucking kills me. You can't understand how much I miss you when I'm not here."

Tears welled in your eyes seeing him breakdown, unable to keep up the unbothered facade you had on, "I just...Spence, I miss you too. It hurts not being able to be near you and so when you're not there when you promise you will be, it hurts it really fucking hurts not to mention it's terrifying, how am I supposed to know you're ok if you do shit like that."

He pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest, all the emotions you'd kept bottled up during the argument letting go. "I know baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I promise, and I mean it this time, I won't let you down again. I love you." He mumbled into your hair, slowly kissing your forehead whilst consoling you and holding you like he never wanted to let go.

The two of you went to bed that night in silence, not a word was spoken until the next day wherein Spencer switched off his phone and dedicated the whole weekend to you and only you. He kept his word once he had to leave, always fulfiling his promises, never pushing you to the side and communicating with you always. The two of you felt strong again, you were happy.

You put your glass down and walked out of your room and began pacing around the living room, pictures of you and him still up on your walls, the walls that no longer belonged to the both of you. You thought back to when he asked you to move him, how nervous he was and how excited you were.

It was movie night at Spencers house. Each week he invited everyone over to watch a film, everyone taking it in turns to select a film. This week Emily had chosen Midsommar, a film you were yet to see so you were excited. You were sat beside Spencer on the loveseat, his arm around you and your face resting against his chest, a blanket covering you both for extra comfort. You looked up and saw Derek and Penelope lay spread across the floor whilst JJ and Emily sat on the sofa. Bowls of popcorn and sweets were scattered around the room and beer bottles were piling up. It was nights like this that you wanted to treasure forever, for the first time you felt like you had a family, people to call your own, people you could trust.

"Watcha thinking about?" Spencer asked, glancing at you and realising your mind wasn't directed at the movie anymore.

"Nothing, just really lucky to have you in my life," You reached your hand up to hold his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you."

He pulled you in closer if that was even possible, "I love you too."

"Ugh, get a room." Derek groaned making you both chuckle.

Spencer responded by throwing some popcorn at him, "Aw is someone jealous, don't worry you'll find someone soon enough."

Derek murmured a quiet, "Fuck off" before turning his attention back to the movie, making everyone laugh.

The movie ended shortly and everyone was discussing what to watch next, you were in the mood for a comedy but Derek wanted to watch Die Hard for the millionth time. After several minutes of slight arguing, you finally decided on rewatching Moana for the 12th time.

Everyone was pretty much settled, drinks refilled, popcorn replenished and everyone back in their positions. Emily was about to press play before JJ stopped her, "Wait before you start I'm kinda cold can I borrow a sweater?" She asked Spencer.

"Yeah sure, take one from our room." He said casually like it was normal but it made your breath hitch in your throat, did he just say our room? As in, yours and his. Unofficially he wasn't wrong, it was your room as much as his, you spent pretty much every night here making having your own apartment redundant, but he hadn't yet asked you to move in with him. You couldn't help the small blush on your face and the way your lips turned upwards at his words. It made you happy knowing he thought of it as something for both of you.

"What has you so happy?" Penelope asked in a teasing tone, she'd picked up on Spencer words and knew exactly why you were smiling.

You just stuck your tongue out at her and looked up at Spencer, "Our room huh?" You asked making him smile.

"Yeah I mean, you're here every day, maybe more than I am. You should just move in at this point." He let out a little laugh after he said leaving you confused as to whether he was being serious, so you just laughed along and waited for JJ to come back so you could start the movie.

A couple of hours later almost everyone was half asleep, everyone apart from you and Spencer. You began making your way to his room followed by him carrying the blanket he had taken from his bed. The two of you went about your night routine, Spencer had insisted on keeping at least half of your things at his place hence why you never had to leave. You quickly changed into one of his shirts which fit you just right and climbed into bed where he was already sitting, reading a book.

"Spence, were you being serious...earlier when you said I should move in?" You asked him, making him put down his book and look at you.

"Would you like that? You don't have to say yes but I would love it if you moved in. The mornings when I wake up and you're still next to me, are the best mornings. Honestly, knowing I'm going to wake up next to you makes falling asleep easier. Plus Tesla and Edison love you, maybe even more than they loves me." He asked, the mention of his fish making you laugh despite the fact your eyes were welling up, what had you done to deserve the sweetest man to walk the earth.

You shifted yourself so you were straddling him and held his face in your hands, "I would love to move in with you." You answered placing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much," He said as you moved back to laying down next him. "You make me the happiest man alive and I'm so lucky to have you."

"God, Spence you gotta stop before I start crying, I love you too." You said, as he laughed and pulled you into a comfortable sleeping position.

"Goodnight love." He mumbled, already falling asleep.

"Goodnight Spence." You responded, closing your eyes and beginning to drift off but not before saying, "By the way, the fishies definitely love me more."

You hadn't realised you were crying until a tear fell onto the frame you were holding. The image just as blurred as the memories it held. You carefully placed the image face down onto the table rather than placing it back up. Making your way to the sofa, you got your phone out and glanced at the image that had left you in this state. A picture of him and her, his hands holding hers as tight as they once held yours, the grin on both of their faces wide. He was happy, only it wasn't because of you anymore. You closed your eyes again, remembering how it all ended.

He had been distant since he had come back from this last case, he had been away for almost two months trying to catch this unsub and you had thought he'd be more excited to come back to you and finally be home. But he hadn't spent more than 10 minutes with you, the only time the two of you were in the same room for longer than that was when you fell asleep. Recently that had also stopped, he spent more nights away from home and at clubs with Derek and Emily , only coming back once he knew you weren't there. It was killing you but every time you questioned it he shrugged you off, telling you he loved you.

You wanted to scream at him if he loved you why isn't he showing it, why does he refuse to acknowledge you. You knew he was lying to you, he didn't love you anymore, you could see it in his eyes, how he never looked at you as he used to, he never held you like he used to. It was killing you and you knew you should ask him but you also knew that would lead to conversation you didn't want to have, an ending you didn't want to happen. So you kept quiet, went about your day and didn't question his actions, you had decided you would rather have the worst of him than not have him at all.

But that didn't last long. A few weeks later something happened, something you could ignore. Spencer had barely been home, only coming back to grab new clothes and leaving again often returning at 4 am or not all. The nights you spent alone, his side of the bed going cold broke your heart bit by bit. But you weren't ready for it to completely shatter, the images Penelope sent you of him holding that girl, a little too close, a little too tight, a little too much, start to fill your screen causing a lump in your throat and tears threatening to spill. You walked to the kitchen, surprised to see him there, he was sat at the counter head in his hands and a coffee in front of him.

"Spencer, what fuck is going on?" You all but shouted.

"Shh, my heads killing me." He said, burying his head in his hands attempting to block you out.

"You fucking asshole." You screamed at him, the pain and hurt evident in your broken voice as you tried your best not to cry.

This made him look up, far quicker than he should've causing his head to fill with pain and throb, but he didn't care, the memories of last night were coming back he knew he had fucked up. "I-I'm sorry, I was drunk and she was just there, nothing happened.

"You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?" You said, moving away from him as he got up to come closer to you. "No, don't fucking touch me. I'm done."

"What? No look I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I love you." The words were said, but the tone held so much uncertainty you couldn't tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.

"No you don't Spencer, not anymore. I know you don't and I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm ok with it when I'm not. I love you so much but I can't keep hurting myself by pretending like we're fine, We're not fine, we haven't been for a long time. Yes that fucking hurts, I thought we were forever, I thought we were going to grow old together and have kids and show them that we were soulmates. I thought we were perfect but we aren't."

"I never wanted to hurt you, I love you so much but-" He started with a sigh.

"You're not in love with me anymore..." You finished for him

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different, I wish I could control how I felt. You were everything to me, I really did picture a future for us but things changed, I don't know why and I don't know how. You don't deserve this, I'm so sorry."

"I know Spence, I know." You moved closer to him and he held you like it was the last time... because it was. "I'm sorry too."

You pulled away from him."I'll grab some stuff and go stay at my mom's for a few days. I just need to find a new place to move my stuff to." You said, trying to brush some tears away but failing as they kept falling.

"No, it's fine. I'll go, this is just as much your home as it is mine. I'll stay with Derek for a bit, you take your time sorting stuff out ok?" He said, using his thumbs to attempt to wipe away your tears. You sighed but nodded knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You sat down as he went to the room to gather some things, your mind reeling from the last half hour. How could so much change in such a short period of time, years spent together thrown away so quick.

"I'm done, I'll get going ok?" He said placing his duffel bag down beside by the door.

"So this is it huh?" You said, with a sigh. You felt him walk towards you and take a seat next to you.

"The last 10 years have been the most incredible time of my life, you put up with so much of my shit and loved me unconditionally and I can't thank you enough for giving the eager 25-year-old who wanted nothing more than to impress you a chance. I'm never going to stop loving you, you know that. I'm never gonna forget about you, my first love, the first woman to capture my heart. I'm so sorry things didn't work out like how we'd imagined them. If I could change how I feel I would, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a silly phase, for me to wake up one day and feel how I felt again. But it didn't happen and it fucking sucks."

"I get it, Spence, you have to do what makes you happy and I'm not gonna stop you. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that could give you want and need, but you're gonna make some girl out there very happy if you're even half the man you were when you were with me." You gave him a soft smile as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.

He stood up and walked to the door. "Call me when you're ready ok? I love you." He turned and gave you a soft smile before picking up his bag and walking out the door.

You just broke down, you don't know how long you sat there sobbing your heart out but it felt like forever. Everything hurt so bad you didn't think you'd ever feel any emotion other than heartbreak for as long as you lived.

You took a deep breath as your hand hovered over the delete button on your phone, it was time to move on just as he had. As you released the breath you were holding, your finger pressed against the button, deleting all the pictures you had with him and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and the realisation sunk in.

You loved him so much, but he wasn't yours to love anymore.

He was just a memory.

tagged: @gcblers @187-reid @mgg-theprettiestboy @mggbler @snitchthewitch

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer fluff #my works!

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years ago

Note

you know what? put the BAU on the Kinsey scale *and* assign them a dog breed

I'm throwing the BAU on the Kinsey scale—

And as always, this is meant to be fun. This is my personal interpretation as a fan and a writer and is not meant to be taken all that seriously.

Emily: 6, exclusively homosexual. She had sex with a man voluntarily one time and maintains it was the worst decision she ever made. She eventually left Interpol because of the continued expectation that female agents would woo male criminals while undercover. Doyle's whole "you could be my son's mother" freaked her the hell out and she still thinks that was some of her best acting ever.

Derek: 1, predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual. He thinks men can be attractive. He had sex with one once and enjoyed it, but it wasn't something he ever wanted to repeat. He can't imagine himself being happy in a relationship with a man long-term and prefers a future where he is the heterosexual supporter of all his LGBT friends. He will occasionally chime in while Spencer is swiping on Tinder, though. "Him? You could do better. C'mon, pretty boy, know your worth."

Spencer: 6, exclusively homosexual. If he ever had sex with a woman, it definitely was not something he enjoyed. He thought maybe it was sex in general he didn't like, or maybe that woman in particular was just not good in bed, but then he had to go into a gay club on a case and he had the moment of the italicized oh when he found himself looking up at the strippers or the drag race more than he was doing his job. He came out to the team later that night. Emily said, "Okay, everybody, pay up, I won this round," and JJ, Rossi, and Morgan all slid her twenty dollar bills.

Rossi: 1, predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual. Rossi got tossed around a few times as a young guy in the army and had a handful of enjoyable, exclusively sexual flings. When one of the guys caught feelings for him, he thought it was weird as hell, and he stopped banging it out with them. He's only conventionally attracted to women and can only imagine himself experiencing romantic attraction to women. But he's okay with gay sex as a group bonding activity.

Penelope: 3, equally homosexual and heterosexual. Penelope doesn't have any preferences. She'll take a woman, she'll take a man, she'll take someone who identifies in between or as nothing at all. That isn't to say she doesn't have a type, but to her, it's all about the soul stuff, or whatever other hippie type stuff she would say.

Aaron: 5, predominantly homosexual, incidentally heterosexual. Aaron has a hard preference for men over women. He doesn't necessarily consider Haley his one exception, because he does occasionally experience attraction to women and obviously can have romantic feelings for them, but his feelings for men are generally much more compelling and happen much more frequently. When he is in a relationship with someone, he loves them wholeheartedly and is so bound by loyalty that he finds it difficult to experience attraction to other people, but he will admit that in general, he prefers men over women. He's also very guilty of watching films with eye candy "for the aesthetic."

JJ: 2, predominantly heterosexual, more than incidentally homosexual. JJ prefers men over women, but she has had relationships with women more than once in her life and is perfectly satisfied living a fulfilled life with a woman as well.

Bonus points: (THESE ARE JOKES)

Gideon: 4, but, like, closeted. He actually wanted to bang it out with Frank and he didn't know what to do with that and it made him apeshit. He destroyed his marriage with his wife because of a hot agent at work but he was too cowardly to do anything so he would just sniff the guy's cologne whenever he walked by.

Elle: 6. In her ideal world, men are just Ken dolls between the legs.

Alex: 3. She is attracted to people who have a good understanding of language and how and when to use it.

Strauss: 1. The thought has crossed her mind, but she just tunes it out with her cocktail of choice—Valium, wine, and loads of paperwork the BAU had her slapped with when they messed up in the field again.

Jordan Todd: 0. Emily was coming for her and she knew it so she let her down very gently and proceeded to set her up on dates with the other lesbians from counterterrorism until JJ was ready for them to be in love.

Kate Callahan: 0. She's quite confused by how everyone else on the BAU has had a gay experience. Her greatest fear is walking into a group orgy. She asks Strauss (who is still alive because I said so) about this and Strauss gives her a tempered look and says, "If you do, I don't want to know about it. Just turn around and pretend you didn't see anything." This does not alleviate her anxiety.

Haley Hotchner: 1. Previously a 0 but Emily rocked her world one time after the divorce and it changed everything. Aaron does not know and they both intend to keep it that way.

Grant Anderson: 3. He's madly in love with every single person on the BAU. He cries when he thinks about them and has a shrine set up to them in his home. Penelope is the only one who knows about this.

#again this is not that serious please don't come for me #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #alex blake #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #jason gideon #dave rossi #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #erin strauss #kate callahan #haley hotchner #grant anderson

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rydenstories · 4 years ago

Text

I heard my best friend’s voice again. I almost immediately wished I hadn’t.

I remember when my childhood ended, and I suppose that isn’t normal. Many people, I’m sure, just grow into adulthood naturally. For me, though, I felt it end deep down in my core when my best friend, Whitney, died. We did everything together; even alternated having dinner at each other’s houses each night. Living just across the street, it was easy for us to spend all our time together. Then, at 11 years old, she was just gone forever. Some hidden heart defect that had been with her since birth, it was hard to understand as someone who was just shy of 11 myself. Still, like a severed limb, something fundamental felt as if it had been brutally removed and I went numb. I drew back into myself and didn’t talk to anyone for weeks.

It got worse when I woke up one morning, looked out my bedroom window, and saw a moving truck in front of her house. Apparently, her parents couldn’t take living there without her and the pain split them up. Their house was empty and they were gone in a day, without so much as a tearful goodbye.

Days after that, I couldn’t sleep without having night terrors that I still cannot recall to this day. I’d try my best not to sleep at all. Instead, I’d stare out the window at that empty, brooding house, imagining that Whitney was still there. On one of the many nights that I woke up, sweating and racking my brain for what exactly had frightened me, something about the light outside looked different. I pulled myself out of bed and walked over to the window. A single, blue light shone from somewhere inside the house; in Whitney’s room.

Honestly, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming, that’s why I decided to forgo waking my parents and instead, quietly snuck out the back door. I didn’t even bother to get into my tennis shoes and coat despite the fact that it was a freezing March night. I barely noticed the biting cold as I ran across the street and behind the house, knowing the sliding glass door in the back had never had a lock.

The emptiness inside the house felt so very wrong to me. I’d basically spent half of my childhood there. It was home, and now it wasn’t. Nothing was left behind except a low sound coming from somewhere upstairs. Before I knew it, I was at the top of those stairs and staring down a hallway with all doors open except one. Light leaked from underneath. Again, somehow believing in my mind that I was dreaming, I didn’t hesitate when walking down the hallway or opening that bedroom door.

What had once been a little girl’s crowded, toy filled bedroom was now near empty, but not completely. There were a few boxes, an old desk, and Whitney’s TV. It was pink, Hello Kitty themed, with a built in VCR and Karaoke machine. She’d gotten it for Christmas and I had been jealous.

It was turned on, tuned into a children’s movie we both loved - Thumbelina. I felt myself smiling as I walked closer to the TV. I stood there for a minute, feeling tired and a bit in a trance as I watched the colorful characters dance across the screen. It only lended to the dream like moment when the screen fuzzed out and the image was replaced by a face - a real face.

Whitney’s face.

“Emily? Is that you?” her voice spilled from the speakers, unmistakable. My heart began to beat a little fast, but feeling that there was no way I couldn’t be dreaming, I responded. “It’s me! Whitney, I miss you!” Her face was close to the screen, basically the only thing visible. “I miss you, too.” There was a pause after she said it. A few moments of silence where I didn’t know what else to say. Or maybe I was afraid I’d wake up and the dream would be over.

From somewhere downstairs, there was a crashing noise. It startled me enough to cause me to turn towards the door, and it was that moment that I knew that I was awake. Nothing moved in the hallway and no other noise came, so I turned back to the TV. It was still fixed on Whitney, but the picture was coming in even more fuzzy. This made no sense. I was awake - I knew my friend was dead - but there she was, on the screen.

"Aren't you..... dead?" I didn't want to say it out loud, but I had to ask. Plus, feeling much more awake in that moment, part of myself reasoned that it COULD be a recording. If I hadn't been fully awake before, maybe I dreamed the previous responses. However, when Whitney smiled almost immediately after the question, I knew it I probably hadn't.

She giggled. "Of course I am, you know that!" With each word, the screen grew a little fuzzier. "Ask me anything if you don't believe me!" her voice echoed, sounding off-key and almost layered. "C'mon.... don't you wanna know what it's like? Being dead?" Again, Whitney laughed, her face still taking up a majority of the tiny screen.

I shook my head, tears involuntarily streaming down my face. So many questions rushed through my mind. Why was she doing this? Why did she want me to know this?

There was a second of silence on both ends. I, frozen in front of the TV and her, staring from somewhere inside. Whitney's smile began to grow larger and larger - each tooth sharpening into points. The voice that came from the speakers now sounded more like seven, and all were deep and filled with blissful rage. "Well, why not?" it bellowed and the screen flickered black.

Everything on my tiny body trembled. It had already been cold that night, but something inhabited the air in that moment that felt sub-arctic. My feet were already cautiously propelling me backwards before my mind even registered them doing so. Still, my eyes didn't leave the TV screen as it rotated between plain black and white. Gurgled sounds came from the speakers. They began to form words around the time my body reached the threshold of the bedroom door.

"IIIIIITTTTT FEEEEEELLLSSS AAAAAAMMMMAAAAZZZZZIIIIINNNNGGGGG!!!!!!" It chanted over and over again, the sheer volume greatly contrasting from Whitney's quiet voice. The floor underneath my bare feet began to shake. The windows rattled. "Oh, don't gooooooo!" The voice called from the TV. The screen finally ceased flickering, illuminated the bedroom with plain white light for a minute before shifting back to a distorted, almost human-like face - nearly resembling Whitney, but not quite. "Don't you want a hug from your besttttt friendddddd!?" It shrieked.

Just then, the face pushed through the screen and into the real world. In three dimensions, it was hideous. The skin of an 11 year old girl stretched over the face of something horrid - something inhuman. Black goop dripped from it's overstretched, grinning maw, onto the carpet. Sharp, angular shoulders emerged as well, then long arms with dirt-covered fingers reached out. Reached down. Braced against the floor.

With every move, it's face became more distorted, it's voices multiplied. "DON'T YOU WANT TO FEEL THIS? IT FEELS SO GOOD!"

I still didn't even notice the steady stream of tears falling down my face. "No! You aren't Whitney! I don't want this!" My eyes couldn't leave the steaming, elongated, horrible form that was pulling itself from the tiny Hello Kitty TV into the real world. Somehow, though, my hand reached for the doorknob. In a flash, I slammed it closed behind me and practically launched myself out into the hallway. Almost instantly, as the door latched, no more light leaked from underneath. The house was now dead silent. Still, I didn't stay to take the chance, running home and locking every door behind me.

The following day, the house was silent. Not a single suggestion that anyone was inside, so once the babysitter let me outside to play, I snuck back in again. The bedroom door was closed, as I left it, and the TV was off. The carpet underneath, once tan, was blackened and burnt. I unplugged it and, despite being a very skinny 11 year old, lugged it across the street and into my dad's work shed. At least, I thought, it would be safe there.

Neither of my parents ever asked questions about it, even when I asked them to please not touch it under any circumstances. There would be nights when, despite knowing nobody had been out there, I'd look out a window to see the shed lit up. Instead of repeating the same mistake, I'd wait until morning and always find the TV plugged in somehow. I'd unplug it again, move it away from the outlet, but it'd always find it's way back there until it inadvertently got sold while I was at summer camp in high school.

Now, to this day, I don't know where it is - though there are times where I think it doesn't matter. There are more than a few nights where I wake up with the TV on. Sometimes, it's a fuzzy screen and others, it's a children's movie I love. Pulling the covers off me, as if it's nothing abnormal at all, I get up out of bed and unplug the TV set, hoping that her familiar face doesn't flicker onto the screen again.

#my story #mine #creepypasta #creepy #nosleep

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lokisgame · 6 years ago

Text

Opposites

[part 1]

Mulder followed her to the kitchen, taking in the room. Usually meticulously tidy, now looking like a scene of a slumber party. The couch was pulled out, pillows on the floor around it. Crayons and sheets of paper littered the coffee table while plush Marvin the Martian was wrestling Duffy Duck in the middle of it.

"They were supposed to stay with mom, but she had some emergency at the community center and called me when I was on my way home, to pick them up from the airport." Scully explained, taking two mugs from the cupboard and pouring the coffee from the paper cups into them. She handed one to Mulder and suddenly remembered the pancakes.

"Oh dear!" Hastily cranking down the burner, she prodded the pancake, not yet burned luckily, and sighed, relieved, noticing something else too ad looked up, looking sheepishly. "I should probably get dressed."

Mulder set down the coffee and took the spatula from her. "Go, I'll keep an eye on this."

Stirring the pancake, a motion caught his eye and he saw the little girl standing 6 feet from him, hugging her toys, and watching him carefully.

"Hi," he smiled his warmest smile and suddenly noticed the resemblance. Pretty, round face, same bright blue eyes, though her hair was lighter and curlier. Emily. If only an echo, and like that, everything became clear. He knelt on one knee to look less threatening. "What is your name?"

"Claire," she spoke shyly, hugging her martian tighter.

"Well, Claire, I'm Mulder, you want to see a magic trick?" She nodded and smiled, finally.

Mulder went back to the frying pan and swallowed hard, it was ages since he did this but he told himself it was like riding a bike. He shook the pan a bit, making sure nothing was sticking and held his breath. One, two, three! The pancake leaped into the air, did a perfect backflip to land precisely in the middle of the pan, ready side up and sizzling. The little girl giggled and he smiled at her, 10 points from the judges.

Her dad came into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, ruffling her hair in passing.

"Sorry about earlier," he grinned reaching out, "Charlie Scully."

"Fox Mulder." They shook hands, the man's grip firm and friendly.

"I know, Dana spoke about you, she wanted you to have lunch with us." The kid came back and tugged at his hand, reaching, drawing in one hand. He picked her up and tickled her tummy, "this is Claire."

"We met already." Mulder smiled and glanced at the pan, then slipped the pancake of it into a waiting plate and poured the batter for another one, and that was probably the full extent of his culinary knowledge, but they didn't have to know that.

"I drew a spaceship!" She grinned, showing him the drawing of a wonky lens-like object with blue and red dots al over it.

"Nice, what planet is it from?" Mulder asked, totally serious.

"Mars!" she declared, showing her mascot, "home of Marvin, the Martian!"

"She's crazy about Looney Tunes." Charlie turned to the girl and tickled her again, doing a pretty good Bugs Bunny impression, "Eee.. what's cookin' Doc?" She laughed and tried to escape his arms.

"Yeah, how's the cookin' Doc." Scully appeared, looking over his shoulder.

"All good." Mulder laughed, moving the spatula out of her reach.

"Show aunt Dana the magic trick!" Claire chimed in.

"Yeah, show Dana the magic trick, Mulder." Charlie grinned, bouncing the little girl.

"What magic trick?" Scully sounded genuinely curious so there was no going back.

Offering a little prayer to the kitchen gods, Mulder checked the pancake, stirred it a little and felt his own hands shake. This was the real deal, he rocked the cake back and forth and went for the gold. Claire gasped when the pancake went airborne and clapped her hands once it landed safely in the pan; Scully laughed with her.

"Okay, I think you got this." She patted his back and Mulder, for once, felt like a gold medalist.

"Now that's real skill," Charlie teased before turning to his little girl. "What is this? Why aren't you dressed young lady? Look, I'm dressed, aunt Dana is dressed, and you?"

"I like my pj's." She said, defiant. The crease between her eyebrows was apparently part of Scully family genetic makeup.

"C'mon, let's find you something we'll both like instead." He said and took her out of the kitchen. Passing Scully, he whispered something into her ear, earning a cluck of her tongue and an elbow below the ribs.

Claire helped her dad make the bed, though her attempts at starting a pillow fight were thwarted.

Scully busied herself around the kitchen, making fresh coffee and toast, setting the table. The cutlery clinked, the plates clanked, the refrigerator doors slammed. Sometimes she stopped beside him, sipping coffee he brought, smiling.

His sweatshirt gone in the heat of battle was replaced by a sensible apron. Mulder was slipping the last pancake off the pan, when Scully appeared again, raw bacon in hands.

"You can burn this," she joked but her next words were sincere. "Thanks for helping me."

"Don't thank me," he said taking the bacon and cranking the burner to max, "it's me who's crashing the party."

"Right, you wanted something," she leaned on the counter, finishing her coffee.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"Positive." The doorbell rang.

"Right on time." Scully grinned and followed her brother to the door.

Mulder stayed in the kitchen, trying to make sense of his feelings. This was a different Scully, one he only saw glimpses of. She was always composed, professional, rarely showing her playful side. She tolerated his jokes, even made fun of him from time to time, but this undiluted happiness, her care for the ones she loved, it disarmed him. He watched the family reunion like Scrooge looking in through the window on Christmas Eve. Maggie hugging both her kids, kissing her granddaughter's cheeks, until she saw the piece that didn't fit.

"Fox!" She said, surprised and, to his surprise, delighted. He earned a hug as well. "It's good to see you again."

"Hi mrs Scully," he gave back the hug, if awkwardly.

"Oh, she roped you into cooking, let me." Maggie tried to bump him out of his post by the pan, but he didn't budge.

"It's okay, I got this." Mulder chuckled.

"He can do magic tricks, Grandma." Claire piped up making Charlie and Scully laugh.

"Come on mom, sit down," Charlie pulled her away, "let the man finish what he started."

Maggie took the head of the table, with Dana on her right and Charlie on her left, Claire beside him, sipping her orange juice.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't pick you up yesterday."

"It's okay, Dana gave us a proper welcome."

"I'll say this again, you can stay if you want."

"Dana, there's more than enough room at my house," Maggie scolded, "and besides, they're staying the week and you've got a job."

"She could take the time off." Mulder chimed in, from his spot by the stove.

"Mulder!" Scully protested, her contrary side rearing it's pretty head.

"Just saying." He shrugged, flipping the bacon with a pair of tongs.

"Anyway," Charlie laughed and poured the coffee. "We're here, ready to go sightseeing and do all the tourist stuff we always laughed about."

"You have a list?" Scully laughed, taking the full mug.

"Sure I do," he replied, unfazed, "I'll show you later."

"I've never really went sightseeing, since we moved here." She admitted, sheepishly.

"You didn't?" Mulder sounded surprised, she knew so much about the city.

"I mean, we've been to the Smithsonian a few times, but I never seen the museum itself for example. I've seen the Washington Monument and all the other memorials, but I've never been to the botanic gardens or the Air and Space Museum."

"You've got so much catching up to do, dear sister." Charlie looked up, and grinned at Mulder, "and you, are going with us. I'm not taking no for an answer."

Mulder laughed, moving the bacon to a plate laid out with paper napkins and sitting down next to Scully.

"If there's something life has taught me, it's that there's no point in arguing with the Scullys."

"You got that right."

"What? We argue all the time."

"Hush," Charlie said, taking the bacon. "So we do the standard tour from Monday and do the..."

"Museum?" Scully filled the blank he made cautiously.

"The Air and Space Museum today." He turned to Claire, placing a couple of pancakes on her plate. "You'll see real space ships."

"From Mars?" Everyone laughed,

"We'll see sweetie, we'll see." Charlie kissed the top of her head warmly.

#msr mini fic #x files fanfic #opposites

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solarbird · 7 years ago

Text

The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 18: forgetting the old days

I forgot to mention, last time, but Dr. Ngcobo is based on concept-art Mercy, for those familiar with that.

This chapter is worksafe.

[AO3 link]

"Oh, I know this," Lena said from inside the sensory isolation chamber, as the song played. "You used it last time, too."

"You know it?" Angela asked by microphone, watching peripheral nervous system reactions in real time. Dr. Ngcobo, also watching by remote, noted that the ring didn't shift, but Lena talked through it, so of course it didn't. He queued the sample for replay again, later.

"Yeh. Always have."

"That's interesting," Dr. Ziegler replied, pausing the stimulus set. "It's a fairly obscure traditional tune, a lullaby - how do you know it?"

Lena shrugged, mostly relaxed and floating in the dark. "Just do, that's all. Makes me think of my mum."

"You... I did not think you remembered your mother."

"Don't, love. Pop, either, not really. But, y'know..." she waved her hands around a little in the small space. "Y'have impressions, doncha? Ideas? I do."

She's never mentioned this before, Angela thought, but when has there ever been cause? I should check her psychological profiles. Aloud, she replied, "I suppose one may well. I'm going to repeat it, later - when you hear it again, I'd like you not to talk. Let your body react to it, but nothing else. Is that all right?"

"'Course it is. I like it - particularly the tune, yah?" A little 'heh' came over the speakers. "Shame the singer sounds like, well, you know. Her."

"...Moira? Does she? I didn't notice."

"T'me she does. Particularly in the low notes."

Well, Angela thought, that's interesting. She added two more, similar snippets she had identified in advance to the queue, randomly interspersed. Let's see if that repeats, as well.

Oilliphéist and Widowmaker watched from behind glass, sitting in a viewing room, able to see the chamber and both doctors at work, and hear them as well. Lena had insisted on that in the strongest of terms, and Angela did not push back, but certainly noted it for discussion later.

Danielle considered what she'd heard. "Did... that sound like Dr. O'Deorain to you?"

Emily snorted. "Aunt Moira can't carry a tune in a bucket. But if she could - maybe, a little?" She smiled, calm but deeply aware and ready, her arm around her lover's shoulder. "I really don't know what Ziegler's chasing, here."

"Perhaps some sort of keyword, some sort of..." She tapped the armrest of the chair. "Some sort of activation phrase?"

"What, like in those old movies?" Emily laughed, a little. "Doesn't work that way. Even I know that."

"Doesn't it?" the Widowmaker asked, one eyebrow raised. "I received a 'go' code."

"You were already all there, sweet. I know, I was on the team."

"My first kill," the senior assassin sighed. "And I felt nothing at all."

"I'm sorry for that. The doctor and I both wanted it to be different for you, but..." She shook her head. "That... reminds me... of something. What... was it... oh!" She sat up straighter, silver eyes bright. "In your office at the chateau, you have a framed picture from Amélie and Gérard's wedding. It's the two of them cutting the cake."

Danielle blinked, surprised, something not easily done to the spider, and she looked directly at her counterpart. "...I do? Really?"

Emily nodded. "Yes! It's on the bookshelves, to the left of the desk. I was so confused. Why?"

"I..." She shook her head. "I suppose it was already there, and I never thought to throw it away," she replied, not as entirely convinced of that as she wanted to be. "I imagine you smashed it?"

Emily chuckled. "'Course not, sweet. It's yours! Why would I do that?"

"Because you hated him! Fiercely. I may not have felt anything yet, and I know not to entirely trust my own memories, there have been too many changes, but... I still remember how you hugged me when I returned. How happy you were that he was dead." She gave the other woman a soft smile. "That... I did feel. Just a little."

"Aw. Love you too, pet. And I remember that. But it's all water under the bridge, these days." She grinned, freely. "He's gone, you're here, we're together, I'm..." she hugged herself, and shivered a little with pleasure, "...oh, it's hard to describe, but I feel so... complete, at last."

She looked back through the window, keeping an ear out for any additional conversation from the doctors on the other side of the glass. "I really think she's starting to settle in, too. I was thinking about it a couple of nights ago, I thought it'd be such a struggle, but... no. She's become a brilliant weapon."

"She already was," Widowmaker noted, a little quirk up at the side of her mouth. "That's what got my attention at the start."

"And so easy to like! I told her back at Auntie's place that I'd never kill her, because you love her, but..." she smiled broadly, "I don't even want to!"

"I like our new sleeping arrangements," the spider said, quietly, gaze focused on the chamber.

"So do I," replied her beloved.

"We should talk more seriously about the future, you realise. Not here, of course, but..."

Oilliphéist nodded, agreeing. "Yes. I love Aunt Moira, but..." A bit of a grimace. "She's a tricky one. We'll have to stay a couple of steps ahead of her if we can, for all of our sakes."

Danielle reached over and took Emily's hand back into her own. "I'm... relieved to hear you still agree."

"Don't worry, sweet." She grinned, nuzzling at Widowmaker's hand. "I've got you. We'll be fine." A glance back up, through the window. "All three of us."

-----

"I am increasingly worried," the doctor said, sharing documents across the table to the subset of Overwatch personnel present. "But I cannot give you a firm reason why."

"She's not... acting entirely like herself, is she?" Winston said, nervously, flipping through pages of data he was not reading. "I've worked my entire life to understand human body language, and it's not always easy, but I've got a pretty decent grip on it. Hers is different, now."

"It is," Morrison nodded. "Has been since the eyes, but it's getting worse."

"She was always very tactile, very physical," Dr. Zhou said. "But you see her with them, and they're always touching. Over and over again. It's a little off-putting."

"It's a little creepy, you mean," said Hana Song, back from Korea only a few hours before. "No, it's kind of a lot creepy. And that palm nuzzling thing is just bizarre."

"She is not changing any more, not physically," Angela said. "Some of the body language, I think, is more getting used to a very different nervous system than she once had. But I have also noticed the... nearly obsessive need for physical contact with Widowmaker and Oilliphéist. With everyone else, she's hardly touch-averse, but it is different."

"That part seems pretty normal to me," Winston noted. "She still sneaks up and gives me a noogie at least once a day."

"I could fly in after the show tomorrow," Lúcio said, over comms. "I haven't seen her in a while, I could tell you how much she's changed, or hasn't..."

"If you can manage it, certainly," Angela replied. "The more data I have, the better. But I am far more concerned with the reactions in her nervous system."

She brought up a set of charts that wouldn't mean anything to anyone not a research doctor, but they gave her something to point at while speaking, and that made her feel better, like she had more of a grasp on the situation than she really had. "There is a hint of a pattern to sensory input reactions. It is not a pattern I can yet identify, it is not anything easy to find - she does not react, for example, to video samples of Moira, with or without sound." The doctor switched to paired video of Dr. O'Deorain and Lena's data, placid and nonreactive.

"It would be very tempting to make assumptions and be led seriously astray... but... there are... agh," she spat the word. "I do not like speaking in such terms. It is very un-Swiss of me, but there are... rumours and innuendoes. There are inferences in these numbers, barely outside margin of error, but... I cannot even say they are statistically significant. I simply do not understand them yet."

"She clearly hasn't been programmed to like Dr. O'Deorain," Winston said.

"No, clearly. Similarly, not Talon. It is entirely possible that it is just biases in the way her nervous system works, and it could turn out all to be something as trivial as your love of peanut butter, which is, for the record, complex in similar ways." She glared at the shifting data. "But - I am convinced something is here."

"You heard her at the debriefing," Morrison said, flatly. "Would the Lena Oxton we know - we knew - smile at Widowmaker relishing a kill?"

"That's unfair, Jack. You know how she scored on psych exams back in '68. It's why..."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But..."

"Look, n00bs," Hana Song interjected. "You're all missing the obvious. Spiderbitch is one thing, okay? She's a defector. She's a merciless assassin, but she's also a victim. So I can just about see Lena going for that, particularly given her looks. Everybody with me so far?"

"What are you getting at, Hana?" asked Lúcio.

"C'mon - Oilliphéist? Really? Oilliphéist?! She isn't a victim. We don't know much about her, but we do know she wanted this. And Lena is apparently... okay with that? And we're supposed to be okay with her being okay with that?" She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I don't think so."

"She and I have talked about it," Winston said, "She's aware..."

"And she's still doing it. Watch 'em touch. I'm not sayin' they're in love, it's not even sexual, they're touching just all the time. Watch them. It's weird."

"Should we cancel this operation? Talon has already taken a real body blow. The governments are finally starting to set their operations in motion..." asked Winston.

"No," said Mei-Ling, firmly. "Absolutely not. The risks are too great."

"Even if it means we lose Lena to... whatever this might be?" If it's even anything, he prayed to himself.

Mei-Ling looked down at her padd, eyes haunted, and did not reply.

"Look," Winston continued, "why don't we just... get her away from them for a few hours. See how that goes. We could have an Overwatch Night Out tonight, like we used to. Hana, you come; Angela, you bring Fareeha. All of you, me, Mei, Lena... see if we can't just remind her who she's always been. She if she snaps back."

"That would be wonderful," Mei-Ling said, wistfully. "I miss those days very much. It seems so long ago already."

"The pub back in Gibraltar?" Angela asked, a bit of a smile. "It has been a while."

"Why not? It's a bit of a haul, but at least they're used to me," Winston noted, "And Athena could fly us back if we stayed up too late."

"It would be worth a try, at least," Angela said, thoughtfully tapping her chin. "We are in an alien and stressful environment, particularly for her. If she reverts to normal in a comfortable, normal situation, then perhaps... we are all just reading too much into everything."

"She is not the only one under stress," Dr. Zhou noted.

"I can't believe we're having an executive meeting to decide to go out for drinks," Morrison snarked, shaking his head.

"You have forgotten the old days, Jack." Dr. Ziegler snorted. "I absolutely can."

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spencerxreiders · 7 years ago

Photo

Title: Jones

Rating: T

Word Count: 1903

Summary: My entry for Rach’s 2000 follower challenge, i present to you (apologetically late) a Reid x reader version of the season two episode “Jones”! Thank you @reidoneshots so much for the opportunity, I’m really very thankful! Much love xox

••••• You listened as your fellow profilers regurgitated the information you had come across to the police department. You expertly observed the officers’ expressions as each learned what to look for in suspects. Will LaMontagne JR, the lead detective, sat beside you as he assisted you in your task.

Will’s father had died before he could solve the case and you could only imagine how that must have tore his son apart. The words “Jones” scribbled into the wood of a desk were all that remained, and you were thankful that they did.

As everyone dispersed, you looked for Reid’s face among the thinning crowd, curious to hear his theories and thoughts. You sighed when you came up empty. He had been acting different lately.

However, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be chalked up to side effects of being tortured and kidnapped. You had begged him to take more time for himself, but he dismissed your wishes with a reassuring smile on his face.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Gideon ushering you towards the table, yet again. Reid would just have to wait.

________________________

“Geez!” Ethan exclaimed as Reid’s familiar face rounded the corner.

“Reid, you scared me.” “I’ve always been one step ahead of you, man,” aforementioned male retorted, a small smirk crossing his lips. “Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ethan sighed.

There was a slight pause in the conversation as each studied one another. “I’m glad you called, it’s good to see ya.” “You too,” Spencer said with a smile. “Let’s get a drink,” Ethan more or less suggested, trusting that the profiler would follow behind.

________________________

“Garcia, what do you got?” you answered the phone call. “What was the one thing Jack The Ripper took from each of his victims? Well, besides her life.” You almost laughed at her question as you wracked your brain. Reid would-

“Tick, tock!” Penelope’s bubbly voice spoke up. “I-I give up,” you surrendered. “A kidney. How horrifyingly fantastic is that?” she giggled. “Well besides the interesting factoid, were you going somewhere with that?” you asked, suppressing a smile of your own.

“I just found an unsolved murder that happened four months ago in Galveston, Texas, same M.O, the victim missing the very same organ,” she paused to admire her own work. “I amaze myself.” “Me too. Thanks, Penny!”

“What’s that?” Gideon asked, turning to you as you sat your phone back on the table. “Garcia found a similar case in Galveston, Texas.” “A lot of Katrina refugees there,” he added. “What if it’s the same guy? He’s removed the kidney just like Jack the Ripper,” you said, waiting for his reaction.

“Call Reid and Morgan. I want the three of you on a plane to Texas tonight.” You nodded at your boss, pulling out your phone as you stood up.

________________________

Reid rolled his eyes as he pulled his cell from his back pocket. He and Ethan were leaning against the bar, per Ethan’s request. Both men looked at the caller ID as your first name blinked to the beat of the ringtone. Reid smiled slightly at it before ultimately hanging up, deciding he would call you back as soon as he could.

“So, are you gonna ask the question?” Reid furrowed his brows at his friend. “What question?” “Come on, man, it’s me here. We haven’t talked to each other in years, I know it’s why you called me. Ask the question.” Reid looked towards the ground before replying. “Why did you quit after only one day of FBI training?”

“Well,” Ethan replied, pausing to reach for his glass. “I’m sure you’ve considered the evidence, analyzed the signs.. what’s your theory?” he finished, bringing the cup to his lips. “You were fighting your own demons, you didn’t have time to analyze someone else’s,” Reid answered quickly.

“Not bad, not bad. Those days I did prefer Jack Daniels to Jeff Dahmer.” Reid was pretty sure he still did. “They both way on your soul eventually,” he continued, pointing a finger at Reid. “Sorry,” Spencer muttered as his phone rang again. He stared at your name longer this time, worry filling his chest. “Bat phone,” Ethan teased.

Reid’s smile was small as he closed the device slowly. ‘Y/N is ok,’ he reminded himself quickly, trying to push your image from his mind. “Let me ask you this, Ethan,” he began. “Do you ever regret it?” Ethan sighed. “I may not be changing the world, but my music makes me happy. And it doesn’t take a profiler to see that you’re not,” he said, nudging his cup in Spencer’s direction.

Reid grabbed his own glass before following Ethan to a small sitting area. “It’s not easy. It’s not- I don’t think you’d believe some of the things that I’ve seen,” he explained. “John Coltrane,” Ethan began, leaning back comfortably in the armchair, “he was a genius too. Does if cancer. But most people think it was the booze and heroin that did him in.”

Reid’s position was the complete opposite. He sat leaning forward, resting his forearms in his lap. “What’re you trying to say?” he asked, his voice soft. “You look like hell,” Ethan chuckled. “I’m fine,” Reid argued, leaning away from his friend and crossing his arms. “C'mon man. I’m a jazz musician in New Orleans. But I know what it looks like when someone’s not well.” Spencer was too uncomfortable to speak out, choosing to avoid Ethan’s gaze.

“This may be the one time I can tell you something that you don’t already know.” He pointed at Spencer’s arm. “It might help you forget, but it won’t make it go away. And if I can tell,” he paused to lean forward, “you’re surrounded by some of the best minds in the world, and if you think they don’t notice..” he trailed off, wiggling his hand. “Well, for a genius, that’s just dumb,” he finished, taking a sip of his drink.

As Spencer contemplated his words, he ignored the buzzing in his pocket.

________________________

“Hey,” Morgan greeted you as he entered the plane. You peered anxiously towards the door as he set his stuff down, eager to see Reid’s face. “Where’s Reid?” Morgan asked, glancing back to you. “He’s not with you?” you asked, feeling more and more anxious as seconds passed.

“You didn’t already call him?” he replied, sitting down beside him. “Four times,” you practically whispered before resting your face in your hands. “What did I do wrong?” you asked rhetorically. “What do you mean?” Morgan asked, instantly concerned.

“He’s been avoiding me, acting weirdly… he’s been just awful to Emily. I thought I was his best friend, what can’t he tell me? What did I do?” you explained. “It’s not you,” he assured, rubbing your hunched back softly.

“What if something happened?” you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up. “Calm down, lil mama,” he teased. “He’s fine, trust me. We’ll go on ahead to Texas, and you can kick his ass when we get back. Deal?” You smiled back at Morgan, thankful for his comforting nature. “Deal.”

________________________

“So..” you trailed off after getting Spencer alone the next day. “What?” he asked, turning away from the packet he had been scanning. “What was, uh, up last night?” You skillfully avoided his gaze by keeping yours locked on a paper of your own. “Hanging out with a friend,” he shrugged, turning back to his paper.

“Oh,” you said simply. “Yeah,” he muttered. It was silent for a few seconds before you spoke again. “I was worried.” A part of you hoped he hadn’t picked up on your quiet voice, but alas, you had no such luck. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I’m fine,” he sighed.

“I hope so.” Even though the comment was under your breath, he still heard. “You know what? I am fine! I don’t need you nagging me! I can take care of myself, dammit!” he yelled at you. His expression immediately softened as a wounded look crossed your face.

You stood up hastily, gathering your things. “Y/N,” he whispered as he extended a hand. “Sorry for caring, Spence. I’ll leave you alone now,” you said hoarsely before briskly going to a different area.

His felt crushed as he watched you storm into another room, leaving only the scent of your perfume in your wake. People who saw the exchange offered him either looks of pity or straight up glares, which he knew he deserved. What had he just done? Why?

He could only detest himself for so long before the need to solve the case overpowered his woeful state. Even though his eyes focused on scanning the pages upon pages before him, he subconsciously found himself staring at you nonetheless. Your frown,your downcast eyes, your shaky movements, everything about your distress made his heart ache. It left hi wondering what had come over him.

________________________

The case was solved, finally, and you could practically feel the relief dripping from everyone involved. Deciding that a little alcohol in your system would be a perfect way to get your well deserved downtime, you headed to the local bar.

Jazz created an airy atmosphere as you took a seat in one of the large armchairs available before taking a long sip of your beverage. You became just short of hypnotized by the tune of the live music, prompting you to praise him later.

Your thoughts were interrupted as someone cleared their throat before sitting in the chair beside you. You glanced up to see Spencer, his hands trembling slightly. Your face lit up before remembering how upset you were at him, even if you knew you couldn’t stay that way.

“Spencer-” He interrupted by holding up his hand. “Y/N, please, just give me a chance. Please,” he asked, puffing out his bottom lip slightly. You simply nodded with mock reluctance.

“I-I, well, I- Ok I’m just going to say it: I’m addicted to the drug that Tobias gave me, in the shack. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk, it’s just- it’s so bad,” he confessed as his voice broke.

“Spencer,” you whimpered before taking his face in your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want you to hate me. I know it’s stupid.”

He leaned into your palm, a sad smile playing across his lips. “I-I’m going to help you,” you said decidedly before pulling him into a hug. He nodded into your shoulder as you cradled the back of his head, his curls tangled around your fingers.

“Will you forgive me?” he murmured. “On one condition,” you said, gently lifting his head to face you. “What’s that?”

“I never have to go on a plane without you again, deal?” He nodded before leaning forward to press his upturned lips against your cheek. He didn’t move as he replied,“Never.”

“I love you,” you said after a moment of silence, which was spent holding him as if he would disappear if you let go. “I love you too,” he whispered. Truthfully, he could hardly believe the words had passed your lips, especially after how he had been acting.

“You’re going to be ok, you know.” His smile widened as he spoke,“I know.” “I’m always going to be here for you,” you said quietly, still keeping the awkward embrace. “I know.” He flashed the familiar jazz musician a smile over your shoulder. He liked keeping a hold on his future while still glancing back at his past.

#reid x reader #reidoneshots #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reidoneshots 2000 follower challenge

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descentale · 8 years ago

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Descentale One-Shot #1

Okay, guys... here it is... the one-shot I promised. I said it’d be angsty, but it turned out to be 5% angst and 95% fluff, so I hope that’s not too disappointing. Maybe next time I’ll write about something truly angsty, though it may err into spoiler territory for the main story... we’ll see.

Warnings for this story: Contains alcohol usage, suggestive content, hurt/comfort, Asgore having feelings for an OC, Asgore being a father figure to an OC, fluff, tears, and plenty of banter. That all being said... here we go!

It all started with a phone call.

Asgore was sitting in his armchair in the living room, sipping tea while reading a book. It was how he relaxed every evening before going to bed, a comforting routine he'd gotten used to since coming to live on the surface once more. However, this evening's routine was abruptly interrupted by Asgore's smart phone ringing from the small side table. The song “I Love Rock 'n' Roll” by Joan Jett – a human musician Pat was fond of, and thus reminded the king of her – played increasingly louder as the king delicately placed his teacup on its saucer. He answered the phone with decidedly less grace, fumbling against the touch screen with his large furry fingers. Fortunately, he answered just in time.

“Howdy, Pat!” Asgore greeted his young human friend cheerfully. “This is certainly a late time for a call, is it not? What is the occasion?”

Asgore heard Pat whisper quietly, “Asgore... it's Mom. She's been drinking, and... I don't feel safe...”

A chill ran up Asgore's spine. He had never known Emily to have an alcohol problem, and knew she'd sooner die than put her daughter in any danger. So if Pat truly felt unsafe...

Asgore furrowed his brow, his tone befitting both a father and a king. “Patricia... where are you right now?”

“In my room...”

“Where is your mother?”

“In the living room... she's watching TV, but she's being really loud...”

“Is there any way you can get out of the house and to a neighbor's without being seen?”

“I... I don't think so...”

“Patricia, listen carefully. I want you to remain calm. Close and lock your bedroom door, and stay as silent as possible. I am coming over right now, to make sure both you and your mother are alright. I do not know how your mother will react to seeing me in her current state. But whatever happens, I will make sure you stay safe. Understand?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Alright. I am going to hang up now, but keep your phone with you just in case. If anything else happens, you may need to alert the authorities.”

“O-okay... th-thank you, Asgore... please hurry!”

Asgore hung up, leaped from his chair, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out the door with surprising speed. Within minutes, his car – a large family van, the only thing that would fit his massive size – was zooming down the streets of New New Home, taking the shortest route possible to Emily's house on Whimsun Lane. When he arrived, the king screeched to a halt, and he made it out of the vehicle and to Emily's front door. Though his actions up until this point were all done with great purpose, the king's worries finally caught up with him, and he had to take a few deep calming breaths before he could proceed.

Gathering his courage, Asgore knocked firmly on the door three times. Being as big and strong as he was, the sound could have easily woken the dead. This was just fine with the king, as there needed to be no excuse for Emily not to hear him. Asgore listened carefully through the door; to his satisfaction, he could hear the sound of scrambling and rushing footsteps. However, this was followed a slight thud against the door, which caught him off guard for a second.

“Who is it~?” a voice called from inside in a sing-song voice.

Asgore briefly cleared his throat before speaking. “Emily? It is Asgore. Please open the door,” he requested with gentle authority.

The door unlocked and swung wide open, revealing a glossy-eyed and haphazardly-dressed Emily. She was holding a half-empty bottle of wine in her right hand, and she leaned her left side against the door frame in an all-too-lax posture. She was wearing a bathrobe, a large pajama t-shirt that reached mid-thigh... and much to Asgore's shock and embarrassment, no pants. The human woman gave him a smile that was coquettish, yet slightly bordered on being lecherous.

“Hey there, handsome,” Emily drawled, eyeing the king slowly from head to toe. “What brings you 'round these parts?”

Asgore felt his resolve evaporating at a rapid rate. Good lord, this was awkward, to say the least. To see Emily inebriated, exposed, and vulnerable like this... this was something he was not meant to see. The two of them weren't close enough in their relationship for this, even if he was very fond of her. But... they were certainly close enough that her daughter saw him as a protective, if not fatherly, figure, weren't they? He steeled himself once more, determined to keep his promise to Pat.

Asgore spoke with the same gentle authority as before. “Emily, I have come here to check on you, because I heard you were... ah... indisposed.”

Emily giggled. “Ah, c'mon, just say it, Asgore: I'm drunk. Plastered. Completely wasted!”

Despite Emily's impudence, Asgore remained as patient as only someone who'd lived as long as he had ever could. “Yes, well... be that as it may, I was concerned for your well-being, so here I am.”

Emily gazed at him with what could be construed as a loving glance, but due to her intoxication, it was hard to tell. “Aw, you're so sweet, Gorey~!” she cooed.

Asgore flinched. He was not at all comfortable being called by that nickname anymore, not even by Emily. “A-ah... yes... well...” He shook his head free of the discomfort before speaking again. “Is everything alright, Emily? Are you alright?”

Emily laughed far too loudly. “Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Gorey! Everything's fine, I'm fine, life's a party! Just... just havin' myself a drink, that's all,” she said, waving the bottle in mid-air.

“I see,” said Asgore, staring at the bottle. “Um, Emily... how full was that bottle when you started drinking tonight?”

Emily giggled again. “The cork wasn't even popped until tonight!” she bragged. “I can really put it away, huh? I amaze myself... hee-hee...”

Asgore felt himself blanch under his fur. “Emily... that is far too much. You realize that, do you not?” he asked concernedly.

Emily waved a hand dismissively. “Pfft. I'm fine, Asgore. Don't be such a worrywart. Actually... hey... maybe... maybe you should have some, too, huh?” she suggested, waving the bottle again. “Maybe... come on in and join the fun?” She gave him a wink as subtle as a brick through a window.

Asgore's expression turned serious. “I will not be drinking, but I do wish to come inside. I do not feel comfortable leaving you like this.”

Emily shrugged playfully. “Hey, whatever gets you in here, Dreem-boat. I'm not gonna lie, I... I've always wanted something like this to happen... I mean, I'd prefer if I was sober, but what the hell, I'll take what I can get!” She stepped outside and got out of Asgore's path, gesturing towards the doorway. “After you, your hunkiness!”

Asgore's face was red-hot as he ducked through the doorway and stepped into Emily's home. Did she seriously just admit she'd had fantasies about him!? Oh golly, he did NOT come here for this. While he would certainly be lying to himself if he said he hadn't thought multiple times about having a candlelit dinner with Emily – and perhaps a goodnight kiss – this was way too much information for him to handle. Hopefully he could get all this over with as quickly as possible.

The king heard the door close behind him, and he turned his head to see Emily leaning her back and both arms against it. She was smirking at him. “I've got you right where I want you~” she said in a sing-song voice. Before Asgore could respond, she quickly stumbled past him in the direction of the living room. “Race you to the couch, big boy!” she called. Asgore took a deep breath to calm his flustered nerves before walking normally after her, praying she wouldn't trip and hurt herself.

Asgore reached the living room just in time to see Emily flop down on the couch, which was followed by her giggling and kicking her legs in child-like glee. The TV was on, tuned in to what appeared to be an animated movie. Asgore slowly, cautiously approached the couch, watching Emily as she grinned wider and wider at him. He sat down beside her, trying not to get too close, but Emily merely scooted right next to him, their legs practically touching. Asgore swallowed hard as Emily batted her eyelashes at him. He decided to try and distract her from her attempts at seducing him, before she really embarrassed herself (and before he could be rendered incapable of rational thought).

“So, uh... Emily! What are you watching?” asked Asgore, pointing at the TV.

Emily looked at the TV and smiled with fondness. “Beauty and The Beast... it was my favorite movie growing up... did you... did you know that?”

“Why, no, I can't say that I have,” replied Asgore casually.

Emily hummed in content. “I could really, really, really relate to Belle. She was a smart girl, but everyone thought she was a weirdo. Ha... you wanna know something funny? I... I hated the fact that the Beast changed back into a human at the end. Hated it,” she said, drawing out the word “hated” out for emphasis. “I remember, when I was a little girl... I saw the Prince, and I was like...” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “'Boo, change back!'” she said in a high-pitched voice. Emily slapped her knee and let out a loud laugh.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Asgore couldn't help but chuckle. Admittedly, that was a rather adorable story.

Emily's laughter trickled into a chuckle of her own before she looked up at Asgore with mischief in her eyes. “Hmm... maybe that's why I like you so much, huh?”

Asgore froze in shock. Golly, what was he supposed to say to that? His mind raced for an answer as Emily smiled at him. Perhaps... perhaps it would be best to play along with her for now, until he knew he could convince her to go to her room and get some sleep. He playfully pouted at her. “So you see me as a beast? How rude.”

Emily giggled. “Oh, Gorey... I see you as a man, you big silly. A sweet, sexy man.”

Asgore's cheeks burned. “Ah... that is... awfully flattering of you, Emily.” The poor boss monster felt like screaming. Perhaps playing along was a mistake.

Emily pulled her legs up onto the couch, kneeling beside Asgore. Smiling and biting her lip, she leaned forward, making it somewhat apparent she wasn't wearing anything beneath her shirt. Asgore let out a yelp of surprise and scrambled backwards towards the arm of the couch. Good lord, was she trying to give him a heart attack!?

Emily gave a deep chuckle of amusement. “You are so cute~”

Something inside Asgore snapped. Enough was enough! He sat up as straight as he could, crossed his burly arms, looked down at Emily, and gave her a glare of disapproval. “Emily, you need to go to bed. Right now.”

Emily smirked. “Only if you'll be my teddy bear, King Fluffybuns.”

Asgore's jaw dropped. Just how uncharacteristically irreverent had Emily become!? This was not like her at all. She was normally so timid and sweet, but now... he couldn't even begin to describe how much the alcohol had--

Asgore's thoughts were interrupted when Emily pounced on him like a wild cat, with enough force to knock the large monster backwards and drive the wind out of him with an “Oof!”. The king hit his head against the arm of the couch, and he saw stars. When the pain passed and his vision cleared, he could see Emily leaning over him with a hungry look, her legs straddling either side of him. The king's pupils contracted into pinpoints. This was horrible, to say the least. Yes, he could easily get up and overpower her, but he didn't want to hurt her. Plus, this new behavior of Emily's was so frightening that it left him paralyzed.

Emily licked her lips. “Mmm... come to Mama, your majesty,” she purred.

And just when Asgore thought things couldn't get any worse, Emily firmly pressed her lips to his with a moan. Every mental alarm bell Asgore had rang with fury. The alcohol was so heavy on Emily's breath, the wine muting out any taste that was uniquely her from her lips. It was completely the opposite of how Asgore wanted his first kiss with Emily to be. It wasn't right, and more than that, it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

All at once, Asgore's eons worth of patience shattered, and his frustration reared its ugly head. He grabbed Emily roughly by her arms, pinning them to her sides, and yanked her away from his face. He sat up and forced her into a sitting position, still gripping her tightly. “Emily, STOP THIS AT ONCE!” he roared in her face. His face was warped with anger, his eyes burning like fire, his fangs glinting dangerously.

Emily stared open-mouthed at Asgore for what seemed like an eternity, the boss monster fuming at her the whole while. Then her lip began to tremble. Her eyes welled up with tears. She let out a tiny, high-pitched whine that was slowly growing louder.

Asgore's furious expression dropped in favor of a horrified one. “Oh no... Emily... Emily, I... please, don't--”

Emily let out a wail of pure despair, tears running hard down her cheeks. Asgore freed her from his grip as she continued to bawl, rearing his hands back as if he had broken Emily like an expensive vase. She briefly glanced at him through her tears before turning away, covering her face with her hands. A wave of pure guilt swept over king. Yes, what she had been doing was wrong, and he was perfectly right to stop her, but he had gone too far. He had never meant to make one of his dearest friends cry.

Asgore leaned down to speak softly in Emily's ear. “Emily... I... I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. Please forgive me.”

Emily sniffled. “You don't love me either, do you?” she sobbed.

Asgore's eyes widened. Oh. Of course... Emily's ex-husband. Now he understood. Before he could say anything, however, Emily continued to pour her heart out. “I don't understand,” she wept. “What am I doing wrong? Am I that unattractive? Am I that undesirable? Am I too weird or something? Wait... oh no, it's because I'm human, isn't it!?” she cried. “Oh god, I knew it! How could I just assume you'd want anything to do with someone like me!? I'm a pathetic, lowly human being!”

Asgore was more horrified than ever. He placed a hand gently on Emily's shoulder. “Oh, Emily, no! Please, do not speak of yourself this way! None of that is true!”

“Yes, it is!” Emily insisted. “I'm pathetic! I'm the most unlovable person there is! That's why Simon left! Nobody's ever going to love me again!”

Asgore could feel a strike to his soul, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. When the pain subsided, he mentally checked his stats. He was stunned to find that Emily's words had taken out a chunk of his HP. Not a significant deal of it, but enough that he'd have to boil another cup of tea when he got home. Emily's sobbing broke through his thoughts, and he gazed down at her sadly. His heart ached seeing her like this. He had to fix this. He didn't want her to cry herself to sleep.

Asgore moved closer to Emily and moved his hand to her head, gently stroking her hair. “Emily... can look at me for a moment?”

“I... I can't...” whimpered Emily.

“It is only for a moment, Emily. I want to tell you something important, and I want to look you in the eyes when I say it.”

Emily removed her hands from her face, which was now very wet. “Asgore, you... you know how I am about looking people in the eyes...”

“I am aware,” said Asgore softly. “But I need you to do this for me, because I want you to know I am speaking the truth.”

Emily turned to Asgore, and forced her eyes to meet his. She seemed relieved to find they were no longer full of fire, but gentleness. Asgore tenderly cupped the side of her face in one large furry hand, slightly lifting her chin so that she could not turn away.

The king spoke in a quiet, serious voice. “Emily... you are not pathetic, nor are you lowly, and you are the furthest thing from unlovable. You work so hard to support yourself, and your daughter, all on your own. You show compassion and understanding for most everyone you meet. You stand up for your friends and loved ones when they need you, even when you are not at your best. You have a wonderful sense of humor. You are incredibly intelligent. Your singing voice is amazing. You are improving so greatly at your magic. And... as far as humans go, I find you rather beautiful.”

Emily gave a tiny gasp at that last remark. Her cheeks turned red, and she averted her eyes. “Asgore... d-don't say that...”

“Look at me, Emily,” repeated Asgore gently. When Emily reluctantly obeyed, he continued. “There is something even more important than all of those things I have mentioned, however. At least... they are very important to me.” He shut his eyes for but a moment as he took a deep breath, then went on. “You... are by far... the sweetest person I have ever met.” He gave her a sad smile. “You have shown me more kindness than a miserable creature like me rightfully deserves. I am, in every sense of the word, a monster, one who has committed a serious crime against humanity. And yet, you, a human, still chose to extend your friendship to me. It is truly a wonder we have gotten as close as we have, and I only want for us to be closer still. So, Emily Thyme, if you truly believe you are unlovable... in my eyes, at least... you could not be more wrong.”

Emily's eyes had welled up again, and she turned her face towards Asgore's hand to let out a few tears. Asgore allowed her to regain control of herself and turn back to him before he spoke again. “Emily... might I have a look at your soul for a moment?” he asked. Emily smiled and nodded without hesitation. A sound rang out through the air, and Emily's soul floated out before her chest, glowing a brilliant green. Asgore framed his large hands around the heart-shaped essence, smiling at Emily. “Do you see this, Emily? Your soul... its defining trait is Kindness. You are so kind to me, and to everyone else you love and care about. So... tell me something. If there is so much Kindness in your soul... why do you treat yourself with such cruelty?”

Emily gaped at Asgore for a few seconds before she let out a sob and hugged him tightly, her soul returning inside her body. She buried her face into his chest as she cried some more. Asgore returned the embrace as she hiccuped and sniffled. He heard her weep “I love you”, though her voice was muffled. Asgore gave her a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” he whispered. He wanted to return Emily's sentiments, truly he did, but not when she wasn't sober. And who knew to what degree she meant that? Even if he knew, there was no telling she still felt that way when not under the influence.

Asgore continued to hold Emily close until her tears began dying down. She let go of him and gave him a tired smile, her eyes half-closed. “I'm... I'm feeling really drained.”

Asgore smiled back at her. “Do you think it is time for you to go to sleep?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah... I think I'm gonna... pass out.”

“Can you walk on your own, or shall I carry you?” Asgore asked.

Emily held out her arms. “Carry me, please...”

Asgore stood up from the couch and carefully picked Emily up into his arms, holding her bridal style. Despite her exhaustion, Emily managed a small laugh. “This is like... like one of those cheesy romance movies... heh...”

Asgore chuckled as he started walking towards the stairs. “I am glad you appreciate this.”

“You... you know what? This reminds me of something else, too,” said Emily with a yawn.

The stairs creaked under Asgore's weight. “Oh? And what is that?”

“You know how humans have movies... with... with monsters as bad guys? Because... we didn't know any better?”

Asgore nodded. “I am aware of those, yes.” He wished that he wasn't.

“Well... the really old ones... ones made way before I was born... there was always a part where the monster would kidnap the female lead... so...” Emily yawned again. “The image of a monster holding... a beautiful human woman in his arms... was really common.”

Asgore grinned. “Oh, is that so? So you admit you are beautiful?”

Emily was too tired to do anything more than weakly slap his arm. “Oh, sh... shut up.”

Asgore gave an amused laugh as he found Emily's bedroom door. “So, I am the savage monster, and you are the fair human maiden I have chosen as my victim. Is that it?”

“I'm... no maiden... and you're no savage, either...” Emily murmured. Her eyes were almost closed by now.

Asgore opened Emily's door and ducked through the doorway into the room. “I appreciate that, dear.”

Emily's eyes shot open as Asgore carried her to her bed. “You... you just called me 'dear'.”

Asgore gently laid Emily down on one side of the bed, and began turning down the covers on the other side. “Did I?” he asked innocently.

“Yeah... you've never called me that before,” said Emily. Her expression of surprise then faded into another tired smile. “I like it.”

Asgore smiled back. “I shall make a note of that. Now... let us get you under the covers, alright?”

Emily slowly, shakily pulled herself to the exposed part of the bed. “Are you... ah... tucking me in?”

“You can call it that, yes,” chuckled Asgore.

With what little strength she had left, Emily finally got into a proper sleeping position with a sigh. “So sleepy...”

As he had done so many times before during his days as a father, Asgore expertly pulled up the covers and tucked them above Emily's shoulders. “Would you like me to fluff your pillow?” he asked her.

Emily let out her loudest yawn yet. “Nah... I'm good, thank you...”

“Is there anything else you need, then?”

“No... but thanks...”

Asgore nodded. “Very well, then. Goodnight.” He turned to leave.

“W... wait!” Emily called. Asgore turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Can... can I have... a goodnight hug?” asked Emily. “I... I'd ask for a kiss, but... I already... messed that up...”

Asgore smiled warmly. “A hug is perfectly fine. Of course you may have one.” The boss monster leaned down and met Emily in one last tender embrace. As he hugged her, he could not help but detect something new amid the smell of alcohol, what had to be the faint scent of lavender in her hair. It made him a linger a bit longer than he'd planned to. Trying not to blush, he pulled away from his human friend as gracefully as he could. “Goodnight, Emily.”

Emily flopped down onto the pillow with a big smile on her face. “Goodnight... Asgore...” Her eyes fluttered shut, and she immediately started to snore. Asgore watched her for a little while, taking in how truly peaceful she looked, before quietly stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Asgore found Pat's bedroom door down the hallway and gave it a gentle knock. “Pat?” he called. “It is Asgore. Your mother is sleeping. It is alright to come out now.” The king heard the rushing of small footsteps against a carpet before the door unlocked and swung open, revealing Pat in her pajamas.

“Asgore? I heard you shouting and Mom crying,” said Pat, frowning with concern. “Is everything okay? She's not hurt, is she?”

Asgore felt another tinge of guilt. “Ah... no, she is not hurt. I shouted at her because she was acting inappropriate, but... that was wrong of me,” he admitted. “I am truly sorry about that, and I am also sorry if that scared you. But to answer your question, your mother is not hurt. She will probably have a headache in the morning from all the wine she drank, but I think she will be just fine otherwise.”

“Why was she crying, though?” asked Pat. “I've never heard her cry like that before.”

Asgore sighed. “I am afraid that is something I am not at liberty to discuss with you. But try not to worry yourself about it, Pat. Your mother is a strong woman, whether she knows it or not. Her burdens are not yours to bear. Do you understand?”

Pat nodded slowly. “I think so. But... do you think Mom will feel better when she wakes up? I mean, about whatever she was crying over?”

“Perhaps,” said Asgore. “I will not pretend to know one way or the other, but for her sake, I would prefer to keep my hopes up.”

Pat processed this for a moment or two before she gave another nod. “Okay. Then I'll do the same. For Mom's sake.”

“Very good. Now, then... will you kindly see me out the door and lock up behind me?”

“Sure!”

Pat accompanied Asgore down the stairs, trying to keep their steps as quiet as possible. “Pat,” said Asgore, “you were very brave tonight. I do not know if this means much, but I am very proud of you for handling things the way you did.”

Pat smiled. “Thanks, Asgore. That actually does mean a lot.”

“Now, like I said, your mother may have a headache when she wakes up tomorrow, so try to keep it to a low roar. Loud noises do not do well for headaches, you know.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Also, I will be returning here in the morning to check on the both of you, alright? I will also bring over a remedy or two in case your mother is not well.”

“Would any of those remedies include tea, by any chance?” asked Pat, playfully rolling her eyes.

“You know me too well, child,” Asgore chuckled.

“Wait, you're serious? I was only joking!” said Pat incredulously. “What are you, the tea master? One that has a tea for everything!?”

“I prefer the term ' tea connoisseur',” Asgore joked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh my god... we have to get you to drink something besides tea, Asgore,” said Pat, shaking her head. “Like... cherry soda, or something. Now that is a drink!”

Asgore turned to her with an arched eyebrow. “I thought your mother did not allow you to drink soda.”

Pat's eyes widened. “Uh... oops?” she said sheepishly.

Asgore smiled. “It is alright, Pat. That will be our little secret... but just this once, okay?”

Pat nodded fervently. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Asgore made his way to the front door, Pat following very close behind. “When I come by tomorrow, I will knock at the door. I do not wish to disturb your mother with the doorbell, so be sure to listen for me.”

“Gotcha!” said Pat. “I just hope Mom doesn't mind you dropping by.”

“I hope so, too. Hopefully she will understand that I am trying to look out for her.” Just as Asgore opened the front door a crack, he felt Pat tugging on his sleeve. He looked down at her quizzically. “Hm? What is it, Pat?”

Pat rocked back and forth on her heels, looking uncomfortable. “Uh... Asgore? I just wanted to say... thank you for helping me and my mom. But also... you're...” She averted her eyes. “You're... kind of like a dad to me. And... considering I miss my real dad so much... that's saying a lot.”

A mixture of surprise and joy overtook Asgore's soul, so much so that he felt his HP rise back to its full amount. He smiled open-mouthed at Pat, looking down at her in awe, speechless but happy. It was a little bittersweet to have a human child who looked so much like the one he lost think of him as a father, but at the same time, knowing Pat had fully accepted him as family – Pat, a child he had come to care about so much, and the daughter of a woman he'd also grown to care for a great deal – it felt wonderful.

The king knelt down and held out his arms. “Pat... come here.” Pat grinned and ran into him for a tight hug. Asgore wrapped his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Patricia Anne... I am very honored that you think of me this way. Thank you... thank you so much,” he said, his last few words almost cracking with emotion.

Pat gave Asgore as tight a squeeze as she could before letting him go. “Hey, don't start crying on me, now! I don't think I have tissues big enough for someone like you!” she joked.

Asgore laughed. “Ah... do not worry. I am too tired by now to cry, anyway.” He let go of Pat and stood back up. “Alright, I must be off, now. Please lock the door behind me, then march right upstairs to bed. I believe this has been a long night for both of us.”

“Yes, sir!” said Pat, giving a mock salute. “Goodnight, Asgore, and thanks again!”

Asgore opened the door and began ducking his way outside. “Goodnight, Pat. Sleep well!” The boss monster stepped out into the night air, closing the door behind him. He listened to hear Pat lock the door, then run off. He gave a huge, ragged sigh. What a night this had been! But, at least things turned out for the best.

Asgore got into his van and leisurely drove his way home, replaying the evening's events in his head. Emily... she had acted so brazen this evening, but they were apparently out of some sort of feelings towards him, if any truly existed. Even if the Emily he'd encountered tonight was not the Emily he normally knew, it gave him some sort of hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd have a chance to explore more options to their relationship in the future. Yes, it was crazy that he, of all people, was slowly falling for a human woman. But had not he himself listed everything he found wonderful about said woman? It may not exactly be love just yet – more like infatuation – but it was so different that it was exciting. Maybe even a bit scandalous, but that only excited him more. It made him feel young again, and oh so alive...

But if none of the feelings Emily seemed to have existed outside the bottle? It would be rather disappointing, yes, but he'd at least be content to be her friend, the best friend she could ever ask for. She was worth it. And he would start by healing her heart any way he could, for both her sake and Pat's. Even if it meant comforting her every night, and bringing her ginger tea every morning. Emily and Pat were his family now. And Asgore would do anything for his family.

#undertale #descentale #fanfiction #one shot #fan characters #ocs #asgore dreemurr #emily p thyme #pat thyssens

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