#KEEF CAME BACK

[the-way-astray]

tumblr is trying to force me to be my archetype and my archetype alone (tried to delete the pro keefe essay i just wrote)

[alaydabug2]

Yeah so I got this when I was at dpa for 4h before unraveled was announced

Then of course the poll for which animal Keefe would befriend

I am now dubbing thee Foxfire 😆

Until unraveled comes out then I'll probably rename it to that but whatever

[aphelea]

somehow i feel like reading this book as someone who is very very far from being a keefe fan made it easier

[tariah23]

Still crying over my friend telling me that they’ve never heard of Chief Keef-

[miedei]

nonexistent rizz

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled???? (aka, the team discovers that early seasons!spence has a girlfriend)

a/n: first cm fic!!! super indulgent, deffo way longer than it had to be but I don’t care, I love love love the dynamic of the s1/s2 team and I NEEDED to write it (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), completely inaccurate early 2000s technology i think, cuties being cute, not edited in any way

wc: 2k

part two | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

“‘O Keefe’s! My wonderful, wonderful sweethearts, we are going out!” The moment the team steps out of the elevator, Penelope is bombarding them, hands moving wildly as words seem to tumble out of her mouth. “And yes, Hotch, I am sure we have no cases lined up yet, and yes, I’m sure JJ can corroborate that the moment she gets to her office and no, you may not stay behind, tonight is compulsory. That stands for you too, Gideon!”

Hotch hasn’t even opened his mouth, shaking his head in defeat as he takes in Garcia’s determined face. Under the watchful eyes of the team, his shoulders slump, a tired hand scrubbing down his face. “Fine. We all have to finish our reports, but if we’re all done in half an hour, we can go. Gideon?” He turns his face, hoping for Gideon to find a way to bunk off, but there’s a glint of amusement in the older man’s eye. “Sounds like there’s no getting out of it.” With that, he walks off, to his office. 

Penelope whoops excitedly, “Okay! That means we’re all going! That’s the first time since Gideon came back,” but her face sets slightly when she meets Spencer’s eye. “No. No, Baby Genius, you will not do this to me,”

“Garcia, I have pl-” “No! You are coming out with us, and we’re going to have a great time, and whatever Russian indie film you were going to watch will still be there for you tomorrow. Okay? No more complaining, baby, you know I won’t listen.” With a pat on his shoulder, she flounces off. Defeated, he doesn’t move from the elevator area, shrugging helplessly when Elle, JJ and Morgan brush past him to the bullpen. 

With a sigh, he takes out his phone, pressing his newly-programmed speed dial and bringing the phone to his ear. From Derek’s vantage point in the bullpen, he can see Spencer, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors, and he can see the moment whoever is on the other side picks up. The younger man’s face lights up, like when he’s on the receiving end of a rare Hotch smile out in the field, but more spirited, buoyant. Only snippets of the conversation float in through the slightly-ajar glass doors, but they’re enough to give him pause, and still his fingers above his keyboard.

“...Garcia’s got this plan for us all, and…”

“Yes, I know, I do like going out with them, but that’s not what I wanted to do…”

“...I took the metro tonight, so I think I’ll just… Really? You want to?”

At that point, Spencer turns, his voice muffling, and keeping Derek from his vested interest in his conversation. But what little he heard is more than enough to pique his interest. He flicks a pencil onto Elle’s desk. “Greenaway. You know if pretty boy’s mom is in town or something?” Elle looks up from her monitor, head tilting, “Not that I know of. Besides, doesn’t she not like flying? I don’t think he’d have her come here. Why do you ask?”

Derek doesn’t reply, simply gesturing to the glass doors, where Spencer is walking inside, his mouth twitching to conceal his smile. His steps are measured, like he’s trying to feign calm. He settles at his desk, hunching his back in a way that can’t be comfortable, typing rapidly as his knee jiggles up and down. Elle turns back to Derek, eyes wide with wonder. 

“That is not how you look getting off the phone with your mother.”

The incident is quickly forgotten, however, when the BAU team are crammed into a booth in the back of the low-lit bar. Penelope has roped Hotch into helping her bring drinks back from the bar, and the rest are speaking a little too loudly, arms flinging and bumping into the empty glasses littering the table. 

All except for Gideon, who, despite having had three glasses of whiskey, is still just as calm and observant as he is fully sober. It is this that causes him to zero in on Spencer, sitting across from him, sandwiched between Morgan and the newly-returned Garcia. 

There’s a pink flush across his high cheekbones, and he’s incredibly giggly, all things that are completely expected for him, a few drinks in. However, what the experienced profiler picks up on, are his darting eyes. Spencer can often be found staring into the middle distance, or, since Gideon taught him the importance of building rapport with victims and officers alike, trained steadily on the space between someone’s eyebrows, but this time it’s different.

His eyes flick to whoever’s talking, feigning interest, but every few seconds, it turns back down to his lap, where something is clutched in the hand he keeps under the table. If it were Hotch, Gideon would know with absolute certainty that he was watching his phone, waiting for a text from Haley.

But this is Spencer. The youngest person he knows. The youngest person he knows whose technological knowledge is somehow worse than Gideon’s own. What on earth would have Spencer acting- 

Oh. Gideon nearly gasps at Spencer’s movements. On his fifteenth peek down at his lap, Spencer stiffens, then draws his hand up from his lap to get closer to his face. It is his phone, and Spencer Reid has somehow learned to text as quickly as Morgan does. His thumbs fly over the buttons on his phone, and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

Gideon’s eyes furrow, and he can’t hold back from nudging Hotch’s shoulder, pointing in Spencer’s direction. Hotch pulls himself away from his conversation with JJ, and Gideon can see his expression morph from mild interest, to confusion, to complete bewilderment. After a beat, his face turns to meet Gideon’s and his normally stoic demeanor is shaken, eyes wide. 

Spencer, however, doesn’t even notice his mentors’ faces, still tapping away at his phone and craning his neck to look around the bar. 

It’s a while later, when JJ has pulled the team (minus Hotch and Gideon) onto the dance floor, a few drinks past tipsy at this point. She’s laughing out loud, holding Elle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. Penelope and Derek are mock-waltzing, bursting into laughter every few steps, and Spencer… 

JJ pauses for a moment, before Elle pulls her into moving again. Her head whips around, trying to find Spencer, before giving up. He must be back at the table with Hotch and Gideon, he was never very comfortable dancing anyway. 

The four on the dance floor quickly devolve into a mess, swapping partners until they’re all dizzy and laughing. JJ and Penelope are shimmying back and forth together, when Penelope gasps a little, tapping JJ’s arm without ceasing her movements. “Jayj! Look, see that girl at the bar?” She gestures subtly at a younger woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing a purple wrap top that has JJ sighing wistfully. 

“Pen, I think I’ve seen my soulmate. Would it be weird for me to crawl over there and beg her for her shirt?” Penelope giggles, gripping JJ’s forearms so they can sway to the music dramatically. “Just a little, my sweet. How about we go ask her where it’s from, though? I think that would be a little more…” She goes uncharacteristically silent, and it has JJ twisting to see what shut her up. However, Penelope tightens her grip on her arms, keeping her from moving. 

“JJ. My love, my heart. You’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?” Now she’s worried. JJ nods quickly, deciding to just focus on Penelope. “Yeah, Garcia, of course. What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m seeing things, and you are one of the most qualified people in the world to tell me if I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn us around, and you’re going to look at the woman in that gorgeous top, and you are going to either scream, or send me off to Hotch for a psychological evaluation.” Her tone is serious, hushed, and JJ nods solemnly. 

The intricate plan is conducted, and JJ is now facing the bar, her eyes searching for the girl, when she stiffens, sucking in a breath. “Yes! I’m not crazy, you see it right? What is going on!” Penelope smacks her arm repeatedly, but JJ can’t tear her eyes away from it. It being something she couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for, not in her wildest imaginations.

The girl is sitting on a barstool, sipping at a cocktail, and chatting to… Spencer. Spencer, the BAU’s Spencer, child-prodigy-lovable-dork-awkward-mess Spencer Reid, is stood in between her legs, smiling down at Mystery Girl without a hint of fear. It’s devastatingly sweet, his eyes soft in a way she’s never seen before, as he nods along with whatever she’s saying. Penelope jolts her out of her trance with a tap to the arm, JJ whispering, “He’s so… carefree.” 

That’s the only way to describe it. He’s looking down at her, eyes locked onto hers, and he’s still. His hands aren’t tapping, his leg isn’t shaking. He’s just looking at her. 

JJ can feel Morgan and Elle huddle near her, questioning Penelope about what they’re looking at, before shutting up as they see it. She hears them take twin gasps, and huddle even closer. They stand in silence, surely a hindrance to the people dancing, but they can’t tear themselves away. 

It’s only when Spencer shatters their worlds once more that they finally find themselves able to move. Four pairs of eyes follow him, as he leans even further towards Mystery Girl, and they all bulge at once when he raises a hand, carding his fingers through her hair. Penelope whispers, “oh my god”, Elle grips JJ’s arm in a vice grip, and Derek makes an unseemly noise, before gripping their arms, tugging them back to the booth. 

They collapse in the seats, faces pale as they look at each other, next to a very confused Gideon and Hotch. 

“What? What is it?” Hotch questions them, brow furrowed deeply. None of them speak, however. Only Elle lifts a weak hand to point. She directs their attention to the sight at the bar, and they all turn back to it, gasping once again. They’re… “kissing,” Derek breathes, shocked. Hotch and Gideon stiffen, but still crane their heads until their eyes fall on what has rendered their highly trained team speechless. And their reactions are just as silent.

Mystery Girl has stood up, her arms around Spencer’s neck, and he’s leaned down to meet her lips, hands braced on her hips. It’s honestly not that scandalous, a lazy, casual kiss that they part from with twin smiles, but the FBI agents can’t handle it. They don’t say a word, straining their ears to hear whatever she is saying as he holds her hand (Penelope lets out a squeak at that), and walks with her towards the door, not even noticing that his coworkers have returned to the booth. Her voice is low, but Hotch manages to pick up a few of the words. 

“...go home and watch that movie I was telling you about? Metropolis, I think you’ll really…” And they’re off. Spencer Reid has left a bar, holding hands with a girl (that he’s apparently spoken to multiple times? Who refers to a place as home for both of them?), acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

The group sits in silence, unable to muster a comment, when Penelope’s phone buzzes. She checks it, and silently turns the screen over so they can all read it. 

BOY GENIUS: Hey Garcia. I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go home. See you Monday :-)

“What?”

[theshiniestgemstone]

i always think of scenarios but feel a little embarrassed to write them so hopefully this is semi okay jeje but basically you know what i think abt? how maybe gideon has been tested by reader here and there. nothing too serious and like he's trying to hold back bc i feel like gideon just lets reader do her thing and maybe one night after an event he's had enough and like :3 gets a bit stern and takes control of the "situation " :3 but he's still nice about??? if that makes sense? and then it's very cute afterwards :D

don't be embarrassed!! I also love this idea sm because he's so chill but that man has a breaking point and you know exactly how to make it there.

warnings: references to sex, fade to black sex, teasing, read at your own discretion

You’d woken up in a mood. One of those moods where you wanted to have Gideon as putty in your hands by the end of the day.

It started early, just as the sun crept through the curtains and birds outside began their morning chorus. Gideon’s hands found your waist, his wake-up call pressed insistently to your thigh.

“Mornin’,” you grinned, grinding your hips back against him, slow and deliberate.

He smiled against your neck, voice husky with sleep. “Sweet girl,” he whispered. “What are your plans for today?”

You hummed, knowing this was your only chance. With a quick flick of the covers over him, you slipped out of reach. “Shower. Then we have church. Then brunch.”

He groaned, dragging the blanket off his face. “Can I join you?”

You shook your head, already padding toward the bathroom. “You always complain it’s too hot. Scalding, even.”

With that, the door swung shut, but you didn’t latch it. If he really, really wanted to, he could. But that’s what you love about him. Even when you left an opportunity open, he never pushed a boundary.

The bathroom filled with steam, warm and soft, as you stepped under the spray. You knew he’d still be out there, probably flat on his back, one arm slung over his face, willing himself to behave. And you liked that. You liked knowing you could stir something in him, all without a single touch. Just suggestion and restraint.

You took your time. Shaved slow. Used that expensive soap he once said made you smell like “heaven and trouble.” When you stepped out in just a towel, you left the door cracked a little wider, wrapped in faux innocence.

He was still in bed, but barely. Propped up on his elbows now, watching you with eyes heavy and hungry.

“All that,” he said, voice rasped with sleep and want, “and you still think you’re walking out of here untouched?”

You blinked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

He stood then. Calm. Controlled. But the glint in his eyes told you the leash was wearing thin. “Nothing.”

You furrowed your brows, letting the towel slip off your chest and fall around your waist as you turned, just in time to hide the bite of your lip. You reached for the bra you knew drove him wild, sliding it on slowly. Then lacy panties under the towel, all deliberate. Finally, you grabbed the blue dress he loved, the one that clung in all the right places, and started walking back toward the bathroom.

Truly, if he wanted to, he could’ve come in and made sure you never made it to church.

During the service, you sat in the pew behind him, sliding Abraham twenty dollars to switch you spots without question. The boy was easy to bribe, especially if it meant cash was involved. You spent the whole sermon watching Gideon’s back, his shoulders taut beneath his blazer, fingers tapping restlessly against the hymnbook. You knew he felt your eyes. You made sure of it.

After the final prayer, you made a show of walking ahead of him, laughing just a little too loud at something Keefe said, swinging your hips just to make sure Gideon wasn’t going to look away. You didn't look back, but you felt Gideon watching you, jaw tight, like he was doing math in his head just to stay calm.

Then came the car ride to brunch. He drove. You sat beside him, all prim and pleasant, until your hand drifted dangerously close to his upper thigh. Close enough to make him flinch, but not close enough to stop you. The car ride was coming to an end and you leaned in like you were going to whisper something sweet.

Instead, just as he pulled into the parking spot, you turned his face toward you and gripped his chin. The kiss you gave him was deep, slow, and purposeful, nothing shy, nothing polite. You kissed him like he belonged to you. Like you'd been holding that in all morning.

When you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide.

You smoothed your dress, lips curved in a satisfied little smile. “You coming?” you asked, already opening the car door.

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the dashboard for a second, breathing hard like he was praying.

Brunch was no different.

You chose the seat beside him, not across like usual, close enough that your knee brushed his under the table. Your hand landed in his lap more than once, always innocent, always brief. A laugh here, a playful nudge there. Just enough for him to grit his teeth and pretend to adjust his napkin.

You made a show of chewing on your straw, swirling it around your glass with a slow, deliberate roll of your wrist. He caught you doing it and looked away, jaw tight, muttering something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch. You didn’t ask him to repeat it.

Then you ordered pie. Of course you did.

He was already trying to hold it together, sitting bolt upright, politely nodding through small talk, avoiding your gaze like it might burn. But when the pie arrived, and you scooped up a bit of whipped cream only for some to cling to your thumb… he stilled. You looked at him, holding eye contact as you licked at your thumb.

You could see the twitch in his jaw, the subtle shift in his seat like he was seconds from cracking.

“What?” you asked, eyes wide, voice syrupy.

He didn’t answer.

You didn’t need him to.

Unlike other Sundays, tonight was packed. It was some local fundraiser Eli insisted the whole family attend, complete with silent auctions, speeches, and too many cameras. You wore the same dress. The one Gideon already couldn't stop thinking about. The one he’d watched you slip into that morning with shaking hands and a barely-there breath.

You didn’t change for the evening. On purpose. When he asked, brow raised, you just smiled and said, “Didn’t see a reason to fix what wasn’t broken.” Then gave him a wink that made him mutter something about needing five more minutes in the car before walking in.

Inside the venue, the Gemstones schmoozed with donors and old church friends. Jesse did most of the talking. Eli played humble patriarch. Judy tried not to spill champagne on her dress. You floated through it all like a storm dressed in silk. Simply laughing, sipping your drink, always a step ahead of Gideon.

You leaned in too close during photos. Let your fingers brush against his when no one was looking. Whispered things in his ear that had nothing to do with the event. Just small, wicked nothings: You looked so good in church today. I almost ruined my dress. Or, You keep breathing like that and I’m going to think you want me to misbehave.

You caught him staring more than once. His eyes followed the dip of your neckline every chance he had, the sway of your hips as you walked away.

And during the auction, while someone gave a long-winded speech about community and growth, you pressed your hand to his thigh under the table. Just rested it there. Thumb brushing slow, lazy circles that said I know exactly what I’m doing.

He didn’t speak the rest of the dinner. He just stared at his plate, barely touching his food.

You knew he was keeping score.

And that was exactly the point.

Which is why it shouldn’t have been a shock, shouldn’t have made your breath catch, when, the moment you stepped into the parking lot, Gideon gripped your wrist tightly, spun you around, and pinned your hips to the car. The metal was cool against your back, but his body was warm, pressed flush against yours, tension coiled tight in every inch of him. His lips found yours instantly, rough, urgent, nothing like the kiss from earlier. This one didn’t ask. It took.

You gasped, hands starting to rise, maybe to push him back, maybe to pull him closer, you weren’t sure, but he caught them. Fingers wrapped firmly around your wrists, pressing them back against the car’s frame, holding you there like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“You think you can play with me all day and just walk away?” he growled against your mouth.

Your smile was breathless, your legs already weak. “Maybe.”

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “Not a chance.”

You let out a soft whine. “Gideon.”

It was rare for him to take control like this. To behave so… primal. Usually he was gentle, reverent. Careful. But when the restraint snapped, when the leash gave way, you were the one in for a treat.

He pulled back just as more guests began to trickle out into the lot, smoothing your dress and swiping your hair behind your ear like he hadn’t just kissed you like a man starved. His voice dropped low, intimate and deliberate.

“I’m going to drive us home,” he said, like he was giving instructions. “I’m going to sit in the car for five minutes. You have that time to change, wait for me… whatever you want. After that, it’s my turn with you.”

He smiled down at you, sweet and devastatingly calm, but his eyes burned. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, breath shaky. “Yeah. Two minutes.” Then, quieter, almost trembling, “I want you to rip this off of me.”

His smile widened just slightly. Not smug, just sure.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, already unlocking the car, “I was hoping you'd say that.”

+++

“Everything alright, darling?” he asked gently, running a cool, wet washcloth between your thighs with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

You could barely muster a reply, still lying on your stomach, arms stretched limply over your head, fingers curled weakly into the sheets. The room was quiet now, save for the low hum of the AC and the occasional creak of the cooling bedframe. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the tangled mess of limbs and fabric. Your dress was bunched around your waist, wrinkled and stained, the zipper split halfway down like it had given up halfway through the struggle. Your bra, what was left of it, hung off one shoulder in a sad, twisted scrap- ripped clean down the middle in a moment of rough, feverish urgency. Mascara streaked your cheeks in inky trails, smudged by sweat, tears, and the drag of his hands across your face. You looked ruined. Ravished. And you’d never felt more content.

You felt wrecked. Melted. Glowing.

“Mhm,” you finally murmured, face buried in the pillow, voice thick with satisfaction. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

He chuckled low, dragging the cloth across your skin one more time before tossing it aside. “I warned you.”

You smiled, slow and sleepy. “Yeah, but you never follow through.”

He leaned over, kissing your bare shoulder softly. “Guess you finally pushed the right buttons.”

You turned your head just enough to see him, hair messy, lips kiss-bitten, eyes soft as ever. And even in the afterglow with your body humming, your voice hoarse, you knew one thing for sure:

You’d be doing it all over again next Sunday.

[the-way-astray]

pride pin fic! :D (also you thought this was a pro-strieefe fic? pfft no :P anti strieefe for life <3)

The world was a haze of swirling pinks, blues and greens, bright and blindind.

Until it wasn't.

Stria groaned as she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes slightly. It took her several moment to get her bearings.

Three seconds and her memories came back.

That Keefe guy had drugged her!

Stria was furious and, she had to admit to herself, the tiniest little bit fearful.

Where was she?

Why was she here?

She glanced around, noticing that she was in some sort of guest bedroom, the furniture organized and neat.

Stria could make out the sound of waves in the distance and she frowned.

Was she near the beach?

How long had she been asleep?

She did not live near a beach.

Stria attempted to sit up, only to fail and flop back onto the bed. It seemed like the drug was still affecting her body. Great.

For a while (it was probably only fifteen minutes, but Stria was bored.), she laid there, upon the bed while she listened to the distant waves.

Then came the footsteps.

When the door opened, Stria bolted upright, succeeding this time.

Standing in the doorway were two guys- a tall, brunette one, and Keefe.

Stria glared at Keefe, who only grinned back.

The other guy rolled his eyes at Keefe and walked inside entirely.

Stria cast a wary glance at this new guy, untrusting. After all, why would she be trusting after Keefe drugged her!?

"Hey," The guy started gently. "I'm Fitz and, well, I'm pretty sure you already know Keefe."

Stria gave Keefe another furious look. "Oh, I know him."

Keefe smirked. "Mhm hm. She sure does."

Fitz sighed.

Stria huffed and crossed her arms. "Why am I here? Where am I?" She demanded.

Keefe leaned against the wall. "I believe you're in a bedroom," He commented. "With a bed, a floor, some walls, a ceiling..."

Stria scoffed. "I can see that!" Keefe was getting on her nerves again.

"Okay, okay," Fitz interrupted. "Let's calm down and talk about this civilly." He gave Keefe a firm glance.

Reluctantly, Stria settled down, leaning against the bed headboard as she waited for Keefe to give her a well-deserved explanation.

"You kids," Mr Forkle began, gazing over Keefe, Fitz, Biana, Sophie and Dex. "Need to find somebody in the Forbidden Cities-"

"We get to go to the Forbidden Cities!?" Keefe interrupred excitedly.

"Yes, yes, Mr Sencen-" Keefe hated it when people called him that. "-, you will get to visit the human world. Only for a specific reason. You can't be messing around there."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Keefe shrugged, exchangin a glance with Fitz that clearly read 'there-is-no-way-i-am-doing-what-this-old-guy-says'. Fitz rolled his eyes.

Mr Forkle turned to the rest of the group as Keefe laid his head in Fitz's lap, like usual.

"There's a girl- Stria Rosier. She's an elf, but she's grown up in the Forbidden Cities. Her parents have raised her away from elvin society." Mr Forkle explained.

Some of the others gasped, but Keefe simply felt mildly curious. He heard Fitz let out a hum of slight interest as well.

"I'm counting on you kids to try and find her and bring her back here- by all means necessary. If she manifests in the Forbidden Cities..." Mr Forkle paused. "It'd be a disaster."

Sophie nodded. "Okay. We can do that." She met Keefe's gaze, her brown eyes filled with worry.

Keefe's expression softened at the sight of his friend's worry.

"We can do that," Keefe confirmed, a grin creeping onto his face. "In fact, I bet-"

Stria was quiet as Keefe finished explaining everything. She was still mad at him. Very mad.

This also didn't make her hate him any less. At least the others hadn't tried to drug her!

Fitz seemed to sense Stria's emotions, for he spoke. "Keefe certainly could have handled the situation better, but-"

Stria suddenly interrupted her. Something Keefe had mentioned.

"Elf. You said I'm an elf."

Fitz sighed, looking like he had done this before.

"Uh-huh, you're an elf!" Keefe piped up. "And a pretty one, at that."

Stria was silent for several moments before snapping at him. "Don't flirt with me."

Keefe shrugged. "Just statin' the facts, Miss-Snaps-All-The-Time."

Stria glared again as Fitz spoke.

"Okay, listen. We-" He gestured to him and Keefe. "Are not humans. You-" He pointed to Stria. "-also aren't human. You're an elf, Stria."

Stria scoffed. "What? Like those ones with the pointy shoes? I don't see no pointy shoes."

Fitz groaned. "What is it with human society and their views on elves? No, we're not tiny with pointy shoes. No, we don't work for 'Santa'. No, we don't have magic."

Stria was definitely getting the feeling that Fitz had done this before.

"So..?" Stria prompted. She was confused. "What are you? You do look pretty human to me. Or, woah, are you guys like shapeshifters or something?"

Keefe laughed. "Shapeshifters? Oh, I wish."

Stria let out a frustrated huff. It wasn't her fault that she was confused!

"Nothing like that," Fitz told her more gently. "We...well, we have special abilities, some of us. Certain people have more than others. We're hidden from the human world- the Forbidden Cities."

Stria was silent as Fitz continued.

"You, Stria, are one of us. Your parents hid you away in the Forbidden Cities, but this is your true home."

Fitz and Keefe had left Stria soon after explaining some things, giving her some time to process things.

She pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming and winced from the sharp pain.

This was real.

Was this a nightmare come to life? Stria wasn't sure. It wasn't necessarily bad, the situation she was in- except for the fact that she was away from her family, had to deal with Stupid Jerk Face and still had no idea where she was.

Stria groaned as she stood up from the bed. Glancing out of the window, she could see the beach, waves lapping onto the shore gently.

It was pretty, really.

Just like she was, according to Lord of the Jerks.

Stria sighed. What was she supposed to do?

Stria realised how hungry she was after a while. She crept out of the guest bedroom, trying to find the kitchen.

"Who are you?"

She twirled around to see a tall, blond man with blue eyes standing there, looking stern.

He kind of looked like Keefe, to be entirely honest.

"She's a guest," drawled a familiar voice. "You're supposed to treat guests kindly, aren't you?"

Stria glanced to the side to see Keefe standing there, smirking.

The man shot a glare at Keefe. Were they father and son, possibly? Probably.

"Keefe, this doesn't concern you. Leave."

Stria blinked at the coldness in the man's voice.

"Nah. This totally concerns me." Keefe strolled over and slung an arm around Stria's shoulder, who immediately shoved him away.

"Owch. That hurts, Stria."

The man interrupted. "I never said you could bring a friend over," He snapped. "Let alone bring a girl."

Keefe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well this is important Black Swan mission stuff. So she's staying here, whether you like it or not, O' Daddy Dearest."

Black Swan? What was that?

"Keefe-"

Stria watched the two bicker for about five minutes before the man finally delivered the final blow.

"It's not like you value your friends anyways."

Stria drew in a sharp breath. That was low.

She kind of regretted calling Keefe Lord of the Jerks earlier. That title definitely went to this man.

A brief look of hurt flashed across Keefe's face before he composed himself.

"Whatever. Come on Stria, Fitz called me to make sure to bring you to Everglen. We're leaving."

also ew it's weird to write even tiny bit of keefe angst. fitz angst hits harder tbh

here i am . . . three months later . . . with an update . . . sorry pride pin anon. i'm here now i swear. part one, for those that were never there in the first place and also those that forgot. all you really need to know is that keefe annoys the shit out of me, manages to convince me to take him home, and then drugs me. i just realized this fic was anti strieefe. sorry pro strieefe individuals

correct! i do not live near a beach

i feel bad for fitz in this fic. poor guy. imagine having to deal with keefe's mess

why anybody would trust keefe to go on a mission like this is beyond me

i see those keefitz crumbs wahoo

hello everybody this fic was written and sent before i adopted the official last name sixteen. so that's why i'm rosier in this fic. interesting choice, anon. are you going to keep that or change it

ooh, what's my ability? why is it a disaster if i manifest in the forbidden cities? anon's got me hooked, lowkey. sorry for taking so long, anon. i hope you're still there

I HATE GETTING LOOKS-BASED COMPLIMENTS GOD I HATE HIM SO SO SO SO BAD EW I HATE HIM

at least be good at flirting if you're gonna do it . . . i can be the occasional enjoyer of play-flirting . . . i hate him so bad . . .

to be fair my immediate reaction to fitz telling me about elves would not be santa or the north pole. i'm a fantasy nerd . . . but i digress

i'm not really the sort to ask a lot of questions. it would be like "you're an elf" "okay cool" *i wait for them to explain and if they don't i keep quiet*

I WOULD NOT BE THINKING ABOUT HIM CALLING ME PRETTY IT WOULD LEAVE MY MIND IMMEDIATELY

DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME KEEFE I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MURDER YOU

and yes i agree anon . . . fitz angst is so much better than keefe angst. he gets too much of it as it is

in conclusion, you've set up a pretty cool premise here. why can't i manifest in the forbidden cities? so many questions . . .

[boag]

There are people who have been considered rap legends for decades in their 50s and beyond that can’t do it like this . He was 19 years old in this video

The way he would just freestyle like this for hours and hours on end everyday and that’s how most of his songs were made and he recorded literally thousands of songs before the age of 21 . We rlly lost one of the most talented people who ever lived so fucking young it’s so sad….. he was INCREDIBLE

[artnerdsrule]

I haven't seen enough on this topic, but why is almost no one talking about Sophie and keefe switching roles?

I think it started during neverseen, but only a tiny bit and very slowly, and once keefe came back it wasn't very progressed. But by legacy you can definitely see it if you are looking. And by stellarlune the role switch is pretty much complete. And it makes me so sad every time I think of it.

Sophie slowly ( very slowly) gaining confidence, while keefe, almost at the same rate, is losing his own confidence. Sophie is learning to be bright and sarcastic. Keefe is becoming dull and honest. Sophie is accepting the role as leader. Keefe is learning to take a step back and let people who care for him help him.

In stellarlune Ro tells Sophie that her and keefe balance each other out. And I couldn't agree more, and I feel like that is an important factor in their relationship. If one starts evolving, the other will evolve in a way that will help and be helped by, the other. It just who they are together.

So when keefe started acting more like Sophie, Sophie naturally started to act more like keefe used to, so that the balance was still there.

Sophie now has enough confidence to share with keefe. Keefe now has the honesty to tone down Sophie's sarcasm. Sophie now has enough light to brighten even Keefe's life. Sophie is finally ready to lead Keefe, and Keefe is ready to follow and really listen to her.

I just find all of this very interesting to think about. And cry about lol.

[memphis-exorcism]

I Root For You, Love

I can't draw at work so quick Kelvin/Keefe hurt/comfort writing to keep busy, night shift altering my brain chemistry aghhh.

Summary: Keefe and Kelvin feel the aftermath of the roundtable discussion

Title comes from the song I Root by Michael Nau

“Home sweet home.” 

Keefe let them sit in the silence for a moment before steeling himself again. “Kelvin?” He reached out to place a gentle hand on Kelvin's arm but it only caused him to tense up under the touch. 

No answer. Fair enough, it was dead silent the whole trip home and it's all silent now but for the chirps of crickets on the compound. Keefe looked to his right at his partner in the passenger seat, who was virtually curled in on himself facing away from him. He ran his palms against the sides of the steering wheel, trying to swallow that dread rising up into his throat. He hated this, hated seeing Kelvin like this. He didn't deserve any of this. The guilt was almost too much to bear for himself in particular. He promised Kelvin he'd have his back, he said he'd never let anything hurt him. How many times must he fail Kelvin before it becomes too much for both of them?

Keefe moved his hand away quickly. “I'm sorry. Let-Lets get you inside, okay? I'll get you some hot tea started.” He hopped out of the driver's seat and scrambled to Kelvin's side to open the car door for him. By the time he got there, Kelvin's face was beet red again, he was stifling tears. It took everything in Keefe not to cry right then and there with him. “M’sorry Keefe.” Kelvin heaved through the tears.

“Nonono- you have nothing to apologize about! That Simkins, well… he was out to get you for sure.” Keefe insisted. Kelvin just shook his head in response. When he helped Kelvin out of the car, Keefe held him their whole walk back inside the house. 

------------------------

“They all laughed at me, Keefe I-” Kelvin spoke shakily as Keefe came back holding a piping hot mug to where he was sitting at the edge of their bed. His eyes were wide open staring past Keefe at nothing. 

“Hey now -” Keefe sat the mug next to Kelvin on the nightstand and kneeled in front of him to meet his eyes. “Those guys? They're just a bunch of bullies and-” “What if they're right? What if I'm a sham?”

“No... No.” Keefe said firmly. He reached up and held Kelvin's face in his palms. “God set you on a path and-”  “Keefe, I can't do this.” “What?” “I'm not… I'm going to drop out of the running for Top Christ Following Man.”

Keefe felt his heart drop into his gut right then and there. “No, wha- You can come back from this, Kelvin!” He was near pleading with the other. “I believe you can. They just don't see the vision that we do with Prism.”

This pulled a kind of wheezy hollow laugh from Kelvin as he moved away from his partner.  “It's over, Keefe. We can tell the discipes tomorrow.” The sting in his voice was ever piercing.

Keefe sat there on his knees, watching as Kelvin crawled under the covers, pulling the comforter up past his head. “As a matter of fact, why don't we just drop Prism too.”

 Hearing Kelvin talk this way made Keefe physically ache. He wanted to take all of his hurt away so bad, take it and lock it away and throw it into the Atlantic. 

“You don't mean that, Kelvin- I- The flock, they need you!” He said as he climbed up to sit beside Kelvin. He pressed his palms into his stomach , trying to gather himself before continuing. “...Hey let's just- nevermind all of that. Lets just- take an easy day tomorrow, okay?” Kelvin didn't answer, but it looked like he was curling his legs up under the comforter.

Keefe sighed softly and crawled under the covers with his partner. Maybe he couldn't keep all the hurt away but he could at least be a pillar of support when Kelvin did get knocked down. The roots to Kelvin's ever-growing greenery. He reached out and wrapped an arm over Kelvin who was facing away from him. He pulled himself close and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Kelvin's neck. Kelvin responded with a shaky exhale and reached to hold Keefe's hand in his own. Keefe squeezed his hand in return.

“I've got you.” 

[milo-igidk]

VINE BOOM PFFFFF LMAO I FORGOT ABT THAT JESUS CHRIST 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"fitz and keefe's friendship was ruined for sokeefe"

yeah thats definitely what happened mhm

thats definitely it there were absolutely no other factors that may have contributed to their fall out

[chellodello]

Presenting: Things That Didn’t Make It Out Of The Draft Folder in 2024

A bunch of sketches and drafts that I wanted to finish but wasn’t able to by the end of the year. 1, 2 and 3 are from my Fancy Space Party piece from last year. 4 came from the dash talking about giving Dib a ponytail. 5 is from a fic I'm working on where Keef is getting married (to a baddie confusingly out of his league) and makes Zim his best man. 6 is a few more sketches of my beloved Irken OC; Kio, who works in invader support services. 7 is a followup to that Alien Bath piece I did in July. and 8 is from the 'Dipper has a crush on an older Dib who visits the shack on paranormal business' text post that I want to go back to.

Thank you all for another wonderful year in the IZ fandom!

[puckinghockeygirl]

Chance Meetings & Old Beanies

Content Warnings: none, just one moment of foul language.

Word Count: 2.3k (the beginning of many more words lol)

Me writing a fic after being retired from fic writing for literal years??? It couldn't be. Thanks @bratbarzal for the help!!

The rink was colder than Maia remembered. 

Despite the jacket and pants, the chill permeated into every crack and crevice, inescapable as she entered the building. It was just the entrance of Prudential Center, not even near the ice, but it didn’t matter. She was still cold.  Squeak squeak squeak went her tennis shoes as she approached the front desk, trying not to drip all over the floor from the rain and wet outside. 

Her noise did not go unnoticed as she walked up, the older woman at the front desk glancing up and immediately wrinkling her nose like she smelled something foul. 

Maia couldn’t blame her. Certainly, she looked haggard. She was soaking wet, for one, her dark hair appearing black as it stuck to her face, her socks wet and uncomfortable. She’d seen better days. 

“Can I help you?” If the woman’s face didn’t give away what she was feeling, her voice certainly did. She shifted, the name tag over her heart becoming visible, the name Connie peeking through. “Directions?”

“Oh, um, kinda.” Maia shifted her weight uncertainly and resisted the urge to shake like a wet dog as she felt water from her hair drip down her neck and back. “I’m looking for Mr. Keefe?”

“Is that a question?”

“No? I mean, no. I’m looking for Mr. Keefe. Coach Keefe? Sheldon.”

Connie raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Keefe isn’t available for media or fans at this time.”

“No! No, I’m not media, I swear! I work here now, it’s my first day, but I–”

“There she is!”

Maia temporarily relaxed, her shoulders releasing their tension as she turned at the sound of Keefe’s voice. “Mr. Keefe. Hi, um, good morning. Sorry, I wasn’t late, I swear, I just…” She trailed off helplessly, her eyes darting to Connie before focusing back on Keefe. “Connie was just helping me find my way.”

Keefe wished Connie a good morning before turning his focus back to the woman before him, gesturing for her to walk with him. “Of course. Connie’s a great help with that.” Once the two of them were out of earshot, heading toward the training room and locker room, Keefe lowered his voice. “Don’t worry about Connie. She does that to everybody. Believe it or not, she does love everybody in her own special way. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”

Maia blinked. “Okay, sir.”

Keefe smiled before slapping her back, the gesture reminding her of her father for just a moment as he gestured to a door before the two of them. 

“This’ll be our first stop. The training room is a little messy right now, sorry about that. Normally it's more organized, but with our former trainer parting ways with us so suddenly, it hasn’t exactly been our first priority.” 

As he opened the door, Maia couldn’t help but agree. The room was undoubtedly messy, a mess that she hadn’t personally experienced since finals week her senior year of college. Bandages and gauze were spilling out of a haphazardly closed cabinet, compression sleeves lay piled onto one of the exam tables, the other burdened by several thick binders and the occasional suture kit, other items scattered throughout. To be quite honest, it hurt her head to look at. Then again, she’d always liked her workspaces to be as clean as possible. Organization helped Maia think, and if everything was in its place, she always knew exactly where to find it in case of an emergency. 

She shrugged. “Yeah, it happens. I can fix that, no problem.”

“Alright, then next stop it is.”

Keefe showed her all of the areas she’d need to know before the pair came to a stop at the locker room, him ducking in to make sure that the guys were decent enough before Maia stepped in. 

(Which was kind, but let’s be real. Maia was twenty-five, not twelve. She’d worked for sports teams before. She was fairly certain that there wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before.)

Keefe guided her in, her shoes still squeak squeak squeak-ing on the floor before silencing as they came in contact with the locker room carpet. Immediately, Maia were greeted by the smell of sweat, body spray, and man, so strong it made her nose wrinkle before she could get adjusted. The smell wafted as players moved around the room, getting ready for practice. Keefe clapped his hands together, and Maia watched the players all stop and look up. 

“Alright, boys, good morning! Glad to see everyone here bright and early. Hope nobody was hoping for an easy practice today, because we won’t be having one.” Keefe glanced at Maia. “Their last game against Boston was ridiculous. Give them the whole shebang today, will ya?” 

She tried to smother a grin as he moved on. 

“Like I was saying, I hope you all enjoyed our easy practices, because they end today. We’ve got a new athletic trainer.”

There was a smattering of applause as Maia nodded at the players and introduced herself. 

“Good morning, guys. My name is Maia Kessler. Like Keefe said, I’ll be your new athletic trainer, and unfortunately, today will not be an easy practice. I’ve got a couple of files from your old trainer about preferences, abilities, and requests, but I’d like to see for myself. Which means today is probably gonna suck.”

One of the players (Breden Dillon, if the nameplate above where he sat was any indication) snorted. “Hah! Pesce, dude, you’re fucked.”

Another player across the room groaned at Dillon, presumably Brett Pesce. Maia had received some basic info on all of the players the night before, pouring over the files until the early hours of the morning, her eyes burning, but she’d only gotten to half of them before she’d passed out for her handful of hours of sleep. 

“C’mon, man, I just got back. I’m conditioned, I swear!” Pesce turned his eyes on her, full of what could only be described as despair as he continued to pull on his pads. “Run Curtis ragged instead of me. Swear I saw him eat a whole pizza by himself last night.”

“It was a personal pizza! There were only four pieces, what did you expect me to do–”

“Sorry, but nothing will be better than watching Hughesy absolutely annihilate that pasta at team dinner last year,” another player cut in.

“Hey!” Luke Hughes blushed as he glanced at Maia before turning back to his teammate. “It was really good, okay? Cap made it and it was…it was really good.”

Maia had met Luke very briefly a few times when she was getting experience at the University of Michigan. She’d been shadowing one of the athletic trainers at the time, and while she remembered him being nice, the only other thing she could remember about him was that she’d once seen him leave his skate guards on and had watched him immediately fall to the ice. He’d been just as flushed with embarrassment then as he was now.

Across the room, the door opened and closed as another player walked in, plopping his bag down at his locker, his dark hair tucked into a beanie and his sunglasses still resting on his nose. 

“Speak of the devil.” Keefe rolled his eyes as the players groaned. “There’s the captain himself.”

The captain pulled off his beanie and removed his sunglasses before removing his coat. He still hadn’t faced Maia yet, though he chuckled at Keefe’s joke and tapped a teammate in a neighboring stall with his water bottle before starting to turn and greet you.

“Cap, meet our new trainer, Maia Kessler.” Keefe pointed at Maia, and then to the player as he finally turned, his face visible. “Maia, this is Nico Hischier, our team captain.”

Nico stilled, staring at his hand as he waited for Maia to shake it. 

God, after all these years, he couldn’t even look you in the eye.

“Hi,” Maia told him. Her voice sounded tight, wrong, even to her own ears. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Oh, I’m so screwed. 

***

Nico Hischier was not having a good morning. 

He’d woken up late, something he hadn’t done since before he was drafted. His hair was mussed, and he didn’t even bother brushing it before he stuck a beanie over it and slipped on his sunglasses as he dragged himself out the door. 

Once he was on his way to the rink, he’d messed with the beanie trying to adjust it this way and that before pulling it completely off of his head, plopping it into his lap. 

The cream-colored yarn hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt his chest ache, and he visibly recoiled as he picked it up and set it in the passenger seat. 

It was cream now, a little stretched out and over-worn, but it had been yellow once. 

“Nico, stop!”

Nico grabbed his girlfriend around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to his bedroom as she giggled, her arms flailing. 

“Stop grabbing my butt!” She laughed, trying to swat his hand away as she reached awkwardly behind her, her fingertips grazing his at the back of her upper thigh. 

“Don’t act like you’re not staring at mine right now,” Nico shot back, grinning as he tossed the brunette onto the bed. The old frame creaked as she bounced, still smiling at Nico. 

Nico smiled back at her for a second, just looking. She reached her hand out for his, and he took it, feeling the way her smaller hand slotted into his larger one. 

“I made you a present,” she told him. 

“Made me a present?” Nico smiled, leaning down to connect his lips to hers once, twice. “Uh-oh. Should I be scared, Müüsli?”

His girlfriend’s face flushed deeply. “I’m not that little!” 

“You are mouse-sized, no?” 

She slapped him on the arm, pulling her hand from his, but Nico climbed onto the bed with her, flopping down onto her.

“Umph! Nico, get off!”

“You are not a little mouse, eh? Surely you can escape.”

The thing was, Nico knew she didn’t want to. That became clear as they maneuvered themselves onto their sides, legs intertwined, heads resting on their arms. 

Nico traced her lips, and the moment turned softer, less carefree. 

“I love you.” 

She kissed his finger as it ghosted over her lips. “I love you too, Schatz.”

They spent a while like that, just studying each other, tracing the other’s features. The slope of his nose, the column of her throat. Her single dimple, and the freckle on the back of Nico’s hand. 

“So…a present, hm?” Nico said after a while, both of them mush in each other’s arms, chest to chest. She could probably feel his heartbeat from where she rested her head, Nico realized. 

She spoke into Nico’s chest. “Yes, but you can’t make fun of it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

She thumped him on the arm, and he let out another laugh, kissing her cheek, her nose, her other cheek. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I won’t make fun of it. Show me.”

His girlfriend smiled unabashedly and wiggled her way up the bed and out of his arms, reaching underneath one of Nico’s pillows to pull out something vaguely fluffy and yellow. 

“Ta-da!”

She presented the beanie to him proudly. Nico took it, studying the stitches, turning it over to see a little leather tag sewn onto the back of it, the outer part blank but the inner part reading NH in bold, black marker. 

“You made this?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know it looks kinda rough. I didn’t get the gauge right so it might be a little big–or small, maybe? I’m not exactly sure. Some of the stitches look a little weird, so–”

Nico cut her off with a kiss. “I love it,” he told her. “I love you, Müüsli.”

“I love you too, Nico.”

Nico pulled the beanie over his head, the yarn soft and smooth against his skin, and leaned down to kiss his girlfriend once more.

***

Nico tried not to think too much about the beanie as he hurried through Prudential. He was late, and he was never late. He had more important things to worry about than a six-year-old hat. 

The locker room was buzzing as he stepped in, trying to enter as inconspicuously as possible, though he heard Keefe’s voice. Of course, the one day he was late, Keefe would be early. Nico bumped Timo with his water bottle. 

He watched Timo’s eyes narrow in on the beanie. 

Well, shit. He definitely knew what Nico was wearing.

Clearly, drunk Nico needed to keep his mouth shut around Timo. He knew too many secrets for his own good. 

Nico’s jaw clenched, and he yanked the thing off, stuffing it and his sunglasses into his bag, turning to meet Keefe. 

“Cap, meet our new trainer,” he heard Keefe say. 

He glanced up, and any thoughts eddied away as he stared at the girl before him.

“Maia Kessler,” Keefe said. “Maia, this is Nico Hischier, our team captain.”

Her hair was dark and wet, her clothes soaked. Her freckles were darker than he remembered, like she’d spent more time in the sun than she used to, the constellations of them swirling across her nose and cheeks. Nico watched her reach her hand out, just as his was held out, frozen in place.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was weak. She was nervous. More than nervous. She was…surprised? Scared? “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her hand held his, her thumb dangerously close to the freckle on the back of his hand, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he looked at her lips. God, he couldn’t even look her in the eye. He wanted to, should have, but he couldn’t force his eyes up any further. 

Well, fuck.

[winwin17]

Sophie "I'm afraid Keefe will stand out in the Forbidden Cities because he's so good-looking, by human standards" Foster is funny because like, girl, *you* were hidden in the Forbidden Cities for twelve years. Fitz and Alvar both visited the Forbidden Cities multiple times and came back unscathed. Keefe will be fine.

[miedei]

terrible profilers

(aka the team meets early seasons!spence's not-so-secret girlfriend)

a/n: this came to me in my dream last night and i cannot get over it, pls send asks/requests and tell me what you thought! (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: USE OF Y/N IM SORRY reader has she/her pronouns, the team is nosy, reader is a phd student, my niche personal headcanons of how i think spencer would text, probably more tech inaccuracies

wc: 3.5k

part one | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The moment Spencer walks into the bullpen, he knows something’s up. Garcia never replied to the text he’d sent on Friday night, and he’d hoped she was just busy on their first weekend off in a while, but it’s clear there’s more. Clutching the strap of his satchel, he walks to his desk, observing the strange tension blanketing the room.

For one, Hotch and Gideon are in the bullpen, standing in the corner speaking in hushed tones. Weird. They usually go to one of their offices to talk, and either way, they usually are stuck in their offices until lunchtime when they don’t have cases.

Another thing. JJ and Penelope are standing around Elle’s desk, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but they’ve swivelled around to stare at Spencer like he’s an alien (which they do on occasion, but Spencer is pretty sure he hasn’t been strange yet. He just walked in!).

Derek is sitting on Elle’s desk, leaning over to huddle with the three girls, but he’s frozen with his mouth open, like he just shut up for some reason.

“Uh… Good morning.” Spencer furrows his brows, but tries to shrug it off, more interested in the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchenette. Setting down his bag, he quickly busies himself with pouring his signature overly-sweet (according to you) coffee.

It’s like his movements snap a thread that has been holding his colleagues together, and they suddenly start bustling around the bullpen again. Derek sidles up beside him as he’s stirring in sugar, and Spencer braces himself for some Morgan-esque prod. But what he says has Spencer confused.

“Kid. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Ok, something is going on. Spencer has worked with Derek since he was 22, and they’ve fallen into a very comfortable dynamic ever since. But neither of them have ever felt the need to reassure the other of their closeness.

“What’s up, Morgan? No jabs today?”

Derek stiffens, like he’s been caught in a lie, and scrambles to reply.

“Well… We- Um, Garcia worried about you on Friday. What was up with you leaving so suddenly?”

Spencer has to bite back a smile, memories of you, coming to O’ Keefe’s just to see him, flooding into his mind. But he answers as smoothly as possible, still turned away from Derek as he elaborates.

“Oh, I felt a bit sick. It was probably the drinking and travelling back and forth from the more arid parts of the country that did it. Did you know, travelling between warmer and colder climates makes you more susceptible to contracting viruses because it strains your immune and musculoskeletal systems, causing the feedback loop of homeostasis to-” Derek puts a hand on his arm, and Spencer quiets.

“Okay, okay, pretty boy, I get it.”

With that, he walks off, and Spencer is left at the kitchenette, stirring his coffee, confused. It’s not like it was a lie, he was feeling nauseous in the bar, so you insisted that you go home. He recovered that same night over a cup of tea, Metropolis on the television, and you cuddled up on the couch next to him.

When he walks back to his desk, mug in hand, he calls out to JJ, still standing by Elle’s desk.

“JJ, no cases today? …JJ?” The blonde is looking at him, but his words seem to fly right over her head, until Elle pokes her shoulder.

“Oh! No, the cases I’m being called about are still pending, we’re probably not leaving on anything until tomorrow.” Spencer smiles softly, glad to have at least one more night sleeping at home this week. Because of his reverie, he doesn’t notice the way JJ, Penelope and Elle are staring at him, befuddled expressions on their faces.

The day continues to be a little weird, much to Spencer’s chagrin. Around 1pm, Gideon emerges from his office again. This, already, is out of the blue. Gideon only leaves his office an average of 3.78 times a day, mainly to go to Hotch’s office, or to go home. This time, however, Gideon marches to Spencer’s desk.

Gideon comes to a stop next to Spencer’s desk chair, and it’s all he can do to muster a blank face and look into his mentor’s eyes.

“Hey, Gideon. What’s… What’s going on?”

The older man sighs wearily, looking down his nose at Spencer, looking uncannily like Spencer’s highschool Calculus teacher when she got irritated at him for being a ‘13 year old know-it-all’.

“Spencer. You weren’t sick on Friday, were you?” What is happening? Spencer doesn’t lie, he’s never told Gideon something untrue, so this is incredibly out of the blue.

“Huh? No, what’s wrong? I felt nauseous, which could’ve technically been a symptom for an inner ear problem, inflammatory bowel disease, gastroenteritis…” Spencer continues to rattle off a list of things he could have had, not noticing the uncharacteristically soft, paternal gaze that Gideon has trained on him.

“...and even a brain tumour, but it was probably because I drank more than I usually do. Why do you think that’s not true?” Spencer finishes his little speech, looking up at Gideon with a confused expression. There’s nothing else the older man can do but sigh, patting his shoulder softly.

“Okay, Reid. Glad you’re feeling better now.” With that, the experienced profiler walks away, not bothering to reply to Spencer’s continued questioning:

“Gideon! What’s wrong? Why are you-” Gideon’s office door slams shut.

Unfortunately, Spencer cannot ignore the rest of the signs, spending the rest of the day in a state of coiled anxiety. Something is going on, but he can’t get anyone to tell him.

Derek and Elle are constantly glancing over at him, unreadable expressions on their faces. Penelope keeps finding excuses to go to Spencer’s desk, and even if Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he’d be able to see the words bubbling up in her throat, but she never says anything.

JJ doesn’t come talk to him at all, which is strange. Instead, she shoots him knowing looks whenever she’s in the bullpen, sending Spencer into a spiral every time she doesn’t say anything about why they’re all acting weird.

He’s even caught Hotch and Gideon peeking through the blinds over their office windows to look at Spencer, with the analytical looks they get when they’re observing a crime scene on their faces. It’s driving Spencer crazy, and he has to tell someone.

You’re leaving your desk when your phone buzzes.

SPENCE <3: Hi. I looked normal when I left the house, right?

Your brow furrows at the text. Normally Spencer isn’t a fan of texting while he’s at work, and you’d told him multiple times how handsome he looked when he left the apartment this morning. He’s wearing his striped white button down and the purple tie you bought him for his birthday last year, he looks pretty. And you made sure to tell him so.

YOU: hi <3

YOU: no spence you look pretty i told you this morning didnt i?

SPENCE <3: You did, thank you. Everyone’s acting weird at work, and I can’t think of what it could be.

YOU: maybe its something with a case?

SPENCE <3: They would tell me if it was that, right?

YOU: ur right

YOU: if you cant think of it with that big beautiful brain its probably something to do with them

There’s a solid minute of silence before he texts you back, and you grin to yourself as you walk through the halls. You can see the flush growing over his face in your mind’s eye, the way he does every time you pay him a cheesy compliment.

SPENCE <3: I guess so. They won’t tell me anything about it, which is strange.

You frown a little, imagining his frustration at being out of the loop. Spencer has expressed his love for his coworkers to you many times, but he’s also told you about his struggles feeling like the ‘baby’ of the office, and the way it makes him feel isolated at times. Racking your brain to think of a way to cheer him up, you check the time on your watch (the twin of which is settled on Spencer’s wrist).

YOU: its nearly 6

YOU: if i leave my building now i can make it to your office in 30mins

YOU: i can pick you up and we could get thai for dinner

YOU: ?

The reply is instantaneous, and you smile, looking forward to seeing him earlier than you’d expected today.

SPENCE <3: That sounds great. I’m finishing up here but text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.

SPENCE <3: I need to go, I’ve been texting you from the bathroom.

SPENCE <3: See you soon :-)

The last half hour of Spencer’s workday flies by, unlike the way the clock had crawled previously. He finishes up the consults he was working on for the day, and begins packing up the moment the clock hits 18:27.

Derek and Elle are still sneaking glances at him, but Spencer couldn’t care less at this point. As he closes the flap of his satchel, his phone buzzes in his breast pocket. He can’t help but whip out his phone immediately, missing the bewildered looks that pass between his fellow profilers as he smiles down at the screen.

Y/N L/N: in the lobby now!

Y/N L/N: i forgot how fancy it is here i feel underdressed

He doesn’t bother replying, instead opting to leave the bullpen through the glass doors, nodding at Derek and Elle, and pressing the elevator button immediately. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts as he stares at the closed doors, that he realises far too late what’s happening behind him.

He can hear the sounds of shuffling feet, a squeak of surprise (Penelope), hissed insult (Elle to Derek), and a firm clearing of a throat (Hotch). After sighing rather petulantly, Spencer turns on his heels to find the entire BAU team standing there, faces just as confusing as they’ve been all day.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong, but none of you gave me an answer the last 23 times I asked, so.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hotch, of all people, says, “Reid, we need to… ask you something. About last Friday.” That’s strange. Spencer cocks his head in confusion.

“What about it? I already told Morgan and Gideon, I was feeling sick, but it turns out it was just that I’d just drank more than I was used to.”

Penelope looks like she’s about to burst, and finally, she blurts it out, voice slightly shrill. “Reid! Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Derek butts in, a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Kid, that girl. The girl you were… close to, on Friday. At the bar?” Oh. That’s what they’re talking about?

“That was Y/N. My girlfriend. Are you mad I didn’t introduce you guys? I thought you were all busy.”

Spencer sees six sets of jaws drop. There’s more silence, before JJ croaks out, “Girlfriend?”

It’s a bit of a sight, to be honest. Penelope has clutched on to Derek, and Derek on to Elle. JJ looks gobsmacked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even Hotch and Gideon look the most shocked Spencer has ever seen them. But why?

“Uh, yeah. She came to see me because we’d had plans before we decided to go out. Then when she found out I felt sick we went home.”

Gideon looks a little green, and when no one makes a sound, Hotch speaks, his normally stoic voice coming out a little shaky. “Reid, we didn't- We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

What? Now they’re being even weirder. Spencer can hear the elevator doors open behind him, but he doesn’t bother. This is something he has to get to the bottom of.

“How did you not know? I’m sure I’ve mentioned having plans with her multiple times. Elle, I told you about the time I went to the movies in New York with her, when we were on that case.” Elle looks more shocked, if that’s possible, but doesn’t say a word.

“Garcia, I asked you to help me find florists that have Gibraltar campions in Vegas that one time.” Penelope jolts, muttering under her breath about ‘idiot geniuses and their mothers’.

“Gideon, I asked you for advice on how to ask her out!” Gideon stiffens, remembering the time Spencer had asked him about his ex-wife. Was that Spencer asking for advice?

“I ran into you, JJ and Morgan, when I was with her, don’t you remember? She was in the aisle over” Derek distinctly remembers a time at the bookstore, they’d seen Spencer, but not noticed anyone with him. JJ shamefully recalls being too busy making fun of Spencer’s heart-studded tie to look around.

Spencer looks bewildered, eyes bouncing between the different members of his team.

“Hotch, I literally told you about her! When I added her to my emergency contacts?” At this, Hotch pales. A year ago, Spencer had come to him with a request to change his 1st emergency contact from his mother to a Y/N L/N. How he never registered that this was a girlfriend, Hotch would never know, but he stares fixedly at his shoes as he contemplates quitting his job as a profiler.

Spencer looks at them, mystified. How did they not know? It’s not like he was ever hiding you! Of course, Spencer wanted to keep you to himself, so he didn’t talk about you that much, but they were profilers. He assumed they’d known, and just didn't want to embarrass him.

His phone buzzes three times, and he pulls it out to see more texts from you.

Y/N L/N: spence are you coming

Y/N L/N: a guy in a suit is eyeing me weird

Y/N L/N: he knows i dont belong come save me

A happy sigh leaves him, before he remembers the people standing in front of him, still gobsmacked. He scrubs a hand down his face wearily, and mutters slowly, as if he’s not sure if he wants to do this.

“She’s downstairs right now, we were going to take the metro home together. Do you… Do you guys want to meet her?” Penelope brightens up, and the rest of the team seem in higher spirits, despite their continued disappointment in themselves. Warily, Spencer opens the elevator door with a press of a button, and they all file in obediently.

“Please don’t be weird.”

“My good doctor, I would never!” He eyes Garcia with a fearful expression, but presses the ground floor button anyway. As the doors close, a strangled shout leaves JJ’s mouth.

“Wait, you live together?”

You are sitting on a bench inside the lobby of the FBI Headquarters. No matter how many times you drop Spencer off or pick him up, this will always be surreal to you. And, right now, it’s not just surreal, it’s a little scary.

A real Danny Ocean type guy is sitting on a bench across the room, talking on the phone and eyeing you. Clearly, you don’t exactly look like an agent, you know that. Dressed in the uniform of a PhD student, jeans and an oversized Doctor Who t-shirt (Spencer’s), you know that you look out of place.

You’re just hoping Spencer walks out of the elevator before you get escorted out on suspicions that you’re a spy or something.

Like some deity has heard your words, you look up at the ding of the elevator to see Spencer… and a whole gaggle of people behind him, slapping at his shoulders and barraging him with questions. He looks harried, a line between his pretty eyes.

The line disappears, though, when he locks eyes with you. His eyes light up, and his steps grow in length, before he's left his entourage behind, at least for a couple of seconds.

He uses this time to explain to you: “Hi, hello, I'm so glad you're here and I need to tell you something-” As if on instinct, your hands come up to rest on his upper arms, thumbs moving in circles soothingly as he continues to ramble, only catching the tail end of his sentence.

“-and well, they didn't know about you somehow? Which is crazy to me because you know I don't hide you so I don't know where they got that from but either way they were acting crazy, so I suggested they come meet you, and…” The group of people you now recognize to be the BAU have caught up to him, eyes darting between your face and Spencer's. His shoulders slump, and the agitated look returns, if a little less intense.

“Well, here they are.” He motions to the group behind him. “These are my coworkers, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Rising on your toes to see over his shoulder, you wave with a smile, eyes zeroing in on Penelope Garcia, who looks like she's vibrating from excitement, shouldering past Spencer to hold both of your hands.

“Hi! It's so good to meet you! I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but you know that's a lie, we didn't realize you existed until 10 minutes ago, but oh my god! You're here! You're so pretty- Spencer, she's so pretty!” She's practically bouncing up and down, causing Spencer to laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah, Garcia, I know that.” The next few minutes are a barrage of introductions and handshakes, all so brief that you can only get quick first impressions of them all.

Penelope is incredibly kind, not letting go of your hands until Spencer pries her off of you, telling you that you have to come out on girl's night with us, exactly like Spencer described her.

Elle is nearly intimidatingly cool, giving you a handshake and a smile, mentioning that she likes your eyeliner.

Aaron (Hotch? You're not sure how to refer to him) is nowhere near as stoic and intimidating as Spencer makes him out to be, breaking into a smile as he introduces himself, and grinning even wider when you congratulate him and his wife on their newborn child.

JJ is the sweetest. You've heard a lot about Spencer's best friend, and she lives up to expectations, squeezing you into a chaste hug with warm words.

Gideon is a little terrifying. He gives you a handshake, quirking the side of his lips in what you assume to be a smile, but saying very little beyond an introduction. You know how highly Spencer thinks of him, and hope he will warm up to you (Spencer is over the moon that he smiled, and informs you later that Gideon loved you).

Derek is exactly how you expected him to be. Somehow, he makes you feel wholly comfortable after a single comment, and promises to regale you with all the Spencer stories you'd want (you see him punch Spencer in the arm, grinning and saying he approved).

Spencer pulls you away from them as quick as he can, citing your dinner plans as an excuse. He slings an arm around your waist, leading you out the door as you wave over your shoulder.

“It was great to meet you guys! We should go out to dinner or something!” You hear mixed shouts of agreement from behind you, before the doors shut and it's just you and Spencer, on the sidewalk outside the building.

It's butterfly-inducing, the way you can see the tension leave his shoulders when he turns to look down at you, brown eyes shining.

“I'm sorry that was so last-minute, I know they can be… a lot.” You giggle at the weariness in his tone, resting your forearms on his shoulders.

“They were really nice, Spence. I'm glad to finally meet them. They didn't know who I was?” He sighs, hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“I don't know what goes on with them half the time. I've told them things about you so many times, but they were just being dense, I suppose. They saw us on Friday, at O’ Keefe’s, and they had no idea I was seeing someone!” He bends to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck with a sigh. As if on instinct, your hands come up to play with his hair.

“I guess they would have found it a little strange that you acted like nothing had changed, huh? Is that why they were being weird today?” He grumbles unintelligible words into your skin, before raising his head to look at you.

“I guess… You know I wasn't hiding you, right? I really thought they knew about you,” The earnestness on his face makes you want to implode, his thumbs rubbing minutely on your waist. Speaking would pop the bubble you've found yourselves in, so you find the best next option for you to show him your assertion.

Your hands roam up his neck to cup either side of his jaw, and slow, slow, slowly, you rise to your toes and kiss him.

Suddenly, Spencer's not worried anymore.

[verymentalityangel]

I have a theory about Gisela's new technopath.

What if her new Technopath is Dex? Because first off she seemed way too proud of it like what if she's proud because it's him and he betrayed them. Second she could've made a promise that she could help him get Lex a power the way she did for Keefe or that she'll help him destroy the matchmaker system because we know he hates it. And she's also just an amazing manipulator.

Heres a better explanation and reasoning from one of my friends:

in the past he made mistakes like this like working with the council and building the ability restraint thing, and he promised to never do anything like it again. But to him its clear that he loves his siblings so much and he wants their happiness. that’s kind of exactly why I think he’d do it. he feels that he can control the risk by not building weapons and maybe he thinks he can also trick Gisela. He could also have the whole thing with his dad saying “it’s ok not having an ability” but he then sees the disrespect toward his father, and the actual stuff his dad goes through and doesn’t want rex to go through that and also Keefe and Tam both joined the neverseen so this would be a great way to bring Dex back into the spotlight. Plus it would be a huge plot twist and it fits cause this is already a significant plot point with Keefe’s new powers. It can also be backed by his experience at Exillium. Also with Gisela being so confident she’ll get Keefe on her side as established by every part of the series- especially Legacy she could use that as leverage too (plus she's manipultive)

I'm adding the whole matchmaking thing cause it would just make sense like he hates it because of his parents and what Sophie went through. And also Rayni hates the matchmaking system and that was one of the ways that Gisela got her to join her or something (feel free to fact check me on that)

This is just a theory that me and a friend came up with and I thought I'd share it.