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andsoigotabutterfly · 2 years

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Liberation

gf!tara x gf!fem!reader

a.n.: this is my first ever fic, so please make sure to share your thoughts about it...

warnings: blood, mentions of past trauma, slight schizophrenia, murder, mentions of hot scenes, harsh language

English isn't my first language, but I did my best!

word count: 5.1k

Some people say it’s a miracle you are alive. Some say you are cursed, and a threat to the community. Some say that some unworldly power helped you get through your life until now. You agreed with the last one. Nobody in the world knew how you survived your childhood. Except for you.

When you were three years old, you were involved in a car crash, in which both of you parents were inpaled on a tree and died. After that, at the age of five, your godfather, was shot down by the police, because they thought he is going to shoot them first. Of course, you were in the back seat when this happened, and you only survived, because you ducked away from behind your new guard. The orphanage you’ve been put in, burnt down around you, when you were eight.

The „Voice”, you called it. The second part of you, which nobody knew of. The part of you, that you hid from everything and everyone. It was the saviour of you. It was the one, who told you to put your back against you fathers’ seat, before the car crashed, so you would survive the tree that pierced through the front window. It was the one, who told you to duck, just before the gun was fired. It was the one, who told you to hug the ground and crawl to the back door of the building, so you wouldn’t suffocate from the smoke, and so you wouldn’t be trapped inside the building, once the support beam that held the ceiling crashed down. It forced you out of situations, without letting you warn others of the danger. It felt like there was a psychopath on you, who was ready for mayhem and destruction.

And it was the one, who tried to influence all your actions. It spoke to you; it tempted you and it bothered you. Only when in danger, did you listen to it. It was full of envy and hatred. It didn’t want you to make friends or go to activities. It tried to manipulate you and cut you away from those, who you loved and or cared about you. Whenever you tried to talk to it, it was like it didn’t hear you, or just didn’t bother to answer neither your questions nor your accusations.

Other then it being a pain in the ass when it came to the public, it was actually very tolerable when you were home at your aunt’s place. It stayed silent, mostly ever talking when you were trying to choose a movie or a book to read. You’ve had similar tastes and quickly found that the favourite movie series for you both, were the Stab movies. The only place where you could speak to it was in front of the mirror. You’ve rarely done it because it felt weird to speak to your reflection, that didn’t even mimic you. Anyone who would come in would see nothing, except for you talking to your own reflection. After you’ve made this discovery, it was there EVERYWHERE. Any time you would go to the toilet, there it was looking back at you from the mirror with a horrific grin on your mouth. Every time you looked onto the water’s surface it was there, mocking you. You were terrified of it and thus, yourself.

Then, at the end of primary school, when you went home, you’ve had enough. From it. It has teased you with murder before, but now it was meaning it.

“Kill the bitch! Run your knife through her and see what her insides look like! I guess that would be a sight worth seeing!”

You ignored its words. You knew it wouldn’t hear you until you were face to face with it. You barged in the bathroom and unleashed your fury at it on the dirty mirror.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“If she won’t be ours, she won’t be anybody’s!” it lashed out.

“You want to kill her because she said no to me?!” you asked in disbelief, shame running through you as you remembered back at what happened.

“Of course! Turn the canal’s water red with her blood!”

“I don’t want to hurt her! I won’t hurt anyone!”

“It would be so liberating!” your reflection was feral. The grin on your mouth was mixed with the terrifying sight of absolute madness in your eyes. You needed to convince yourself, that you weren’t seeing your own face. You were feeling the effect it had on you. You were losing control of yourself.

“Get out of my head!”

“I won’t go anywhere! I will help you slice that bitch up and then get on with everybody else, who has hurt you. Think of the kids that bullied you in the orphanage. Now picture their bodies…”

“SHUT UP!” you were yelling at this point. You didn’t care if the neighbours heard you. You wanted it out. It was getting to you. The images that it said, were flashing through your mind, and to say they weren’t nice would’ve been a lie. You gripped the corner of the sink so hard, your fingers hurt and turned white.

“It would fill the hole in your soul. Let go! It would make you whole!”

Your vision went black. You couldn’t see anything but it, with a huge grin on your own mouth. You couldn’t think straight. You wouldn’t give up either though. In a last, desperate attempt, you crashed the mirror with your bare hands as you screamed your lungs out. It hurt like hell. Blood was dripping down your hand. But at that moment, you felt victorious and at peace. When you looked at your reflection through the cracks, you saw yourself. A laugh escaped your lips, as you smiled at yourself. You touched your face, like it’s the first time you saw it. The blood you left on it was now running down your cheeks, but you didn’t mind. It was nowhere to be found. You finally got rid of it.

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High school was calm and peaceful. From the moment you set foot in there, you were famous. Almost everybody knew your name, knew what shit you've been through. Most of the people left you alone, or tried to keep distance for the first half semester, like you were rotten meat. Except for a small group of people, whom you quickly became friends with.

After the school got used to your presence, the bullies started to present themselves. Not afraid of you anymore, they started picking on you, for even the smallest detail. To say that they made your time there miserable would be an understatement. You still finished your first year on a good note. Your aunt and you have become close and you finally had some friends with whom you would meet with during the summer.

The next year started off, as the last closed. At the first day the others already left because they got less hours than you. This was when the bullies showed up. Your impulsiveness led you to a fight with them. Two of their group ended up in the infirmary with bruises and stiches, and you in the principal's office, with a warning. When your aunt picked you up, she was angry but the moment you were in the car, her face lightened up and asked you all about the fight. At first you were confused, but then started to talk about what happened with more and more enthusiasm. She listened to every last detail you told her, with pride on her face.

"Next time, maybe don't hold back." She said with a wide grin.

"There won't be a next time, for a long time if I assume right." You answered.

At night, you all gathered at Tara's place. When they saw your black eye, and the stich on your cheek, their jaws dropped. Then, you were hit with a wave of questions on your well being, the state of the "other guy" and whom the fight happened with. You told the story all over again, with a bit more detail than you actually remembered. As you were talking Chad encouragingly patted your shoulders, and commented on your technique, like he was some kind of professional. Tara's face lit up when you got to the part where you got your scars. You didn't take it as something important until after the party, in your bed thinking about her. Realization hit you, that you like her. The way she moved around, the way she made everyone laugh and that she always was nice. Oh, you liked her very much.

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That night, in your dream, it came back. You were standing in front of each other. It spoke to you, but you didn't listen. Even if you tried to take in what it was saying, you couldn't understand it. Then it took out Ghostfaces' mask from behind it's back, and placed it on its head. As it approached you, you froze down. Couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't talk. When it reached you, it tilted its head, and you woke up. You tried to calm down, as your thoughts were racing. It was back. Was it back? 'Please. Somebody save me' you thought.

The next weeks were normal. You haven't heard its voice, or felt its influence. As the days were passing, you shook it of like it was a nightmare, even though you were most certain, that it wasn't one.

Just as you thought, the bullies didn't come back for a long time. During the 'Time of Peace', as you called it you managed to get to know your friends more, especially Tara. It was like having a new family. You guys would always go to one's house to hold small get-togethers and parties. Everybody was nice and smooth, but your eyes were always set on her.

You two got together really well. You both liked horror movies, and would go on to watch them all together. Like yours, her favourite movie series was Stab too. One time around the end of the year, you managed to prank call her, and she quickly got into the game. You left your voice changer at home, so you tried your best at hiding your own voice, failing miserably. You sneaked in through the back door and got into her house. As she was heading into the kitchen, you jumped her. She did definitely not expect you to be in her house.

She gripped you tightly as she calmed down quickly. Her touch made you have goosebumps. You never saw her scared, and were proud of yourself. She looked cute.

"Fuck!" she breathed out finally. "Y/N!"

"At your service."

"What are you doing here?!"

"Well, the plan was to sneak in, scare your gorgeous ass. Then maybe, just maybe, watch something together" you admitted. "First half worked out pretty well if I dare say so myself."

"Okay than Mrs. jumpscare. Take your shoes off. I just finished cleaning. After that, we may discuss having movie night." She looked at you through her smile. After a second, she watched you curiously and raised an elbow. That’s when it hit you how close you were. She was still in your arms so you quickly let go and did as you were told. You were trying your best to hide your blush but the way she looked at you made it pretty clear, that it didn't work.

You settled down on her couch, patiently waiting for her to make the popcorn. When she got to the living room, you slowly pulled out an ancient dvd holder of your bag. You shot her a grin as you saw her mouth drop.

"No fuckin' way where did you get this?!" she shouted in excitement. She took the holder out of your hand and started analysing it. It was the original Stab movie's director's cut.

"Did a little digging in the attic." You shrugged.

"You're kidding me."

"Indeed I am. I needed to pay off the guy in the dvd renter so that he lets me to the backside of his place. I found this piece of art there."

She bit her lips in excitement as she looked at you, her beautiful eyes full of wonder. You nodded to her, so she would open it and place the dvd in the player. As it started playing, she sat beside you. Too close, for your body not to act up. You could only hope that the couch didn't vibrate from your heartbeat.

Even though you have already seen the scenes that were cut from the film on the internet, you eagerly waited for every one of them. When one would come up, you sat straighter. Yet, you couldn't pay attention to them because every time you sat up, Tara grabbed your hand, like she was afraid you would go away.

This made it impossible for you to look at the television. Your vision was filled with her, the way the lights reflected back from her beautiful eyes, the way her smile could melt any matter on the world and the way she looked up at you time to time. This was one of those moments. Your eyes met and you felt like you could gaze into hers for the rest of your life. Her eyes went to your lips, then back again. You did the same, whilst leaning just a tiny bit closer to her. She was the one to close the distance. You felt in heaven as your lips crashed together, the salty taste filling your every sense. Your eyes shut close as you pulled her into you. She was addicting, and would be the death of you. Somehow that idea just made her even more appealing. She separated herself from you, to take in a quick breath, then she was back onto you, her jaws biting your bottom lip ferociously.

She pulled away again, worry in her eyes from her own action. You already missed her presence on your lips. You chased after her kissing her the same way she did you. You sank onto her, grabbing her thighs as you pushed her down to the couch. You can't tell how much time you spent there, just making out. The only thing that stopped you was a sudden scream. You quickly looked up not really understanding where it came from. Her giggles made you realize, that it came from the movie. It was as if the outer world completely disappeared to you. The film was about to end, and the real stabbing began in it.

"Do you know how long you've kept me waiting for this?" you asked her, when your senses became clear again. You still couldn't believe what just happened.

"I actually do." she said with a smirk. "You aren't really good at hiding your feelings dear."

"Yes. I get that a lot."

She smiled at you, somehow being even more gorgeous than before, than snuggled up to your side, to finish the movie. You put a hand around her and played with her hair, as you finally calmed down. After the film, the two of you would have a long night ahead of you.

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From that point, you two were always found together. She didn't want to hide you, which made you even more confident. Days, weeks and months passed but nothing made you feel as complete as her. Well, almost complete. You still didn't feel quite right, but you couldn't put your finger around it.

As your third year began, you both found some new activities for yourselves. You signed up for drum classes, and she to a new art group. You knew she loved to draw, and this only made her already good style into something that you could only describe as "high art". One day, you went to her place only to find it empty. As you killed time, you found one of her old sketchbooks. Your eyes widened, when you realized more than half of them were you. Wait, were you really that beautiful in her eyes? When she got home, you couldn't stop teasing her with it, as you also complimented her work.

"Stop it!"

"Only if you draw me right now, so that I can see how well my gorgeous can draw!" you said with a wide grin.

She blushed at the comment. With a bit more of your nagging, she finally gave in. As she drew you, she started speaking about her peers at the art group. She kept mentioning a boy named Kent, whom she really got close with. A hint of jealousy hit your stomach as you listened to her.

"He helped me improve my line work." She was always rambling about something when she was focusing. It's one of the things you loved about her. Whenever she was cooking, which she was also a goddess at, she would always talk about her day, or something that was on her mind. "He is also the best student of his class."

"Well, he sounds like a nerd."

Tara's hand stopped and her mouth dropped open a little. "Is someone jealous?"

"No��" you huffed out immediately.

"Riiiiiight." she teased and returned to drawing.

In minutes, you already hated this Kent. Tara rented about him for a few more minutes, only because she loved your reaction. You hated every minute of it. Anger coiling in you, eating you up from the inside. A really familiar feeling, but you couldn't quite remember when you've felt like this. Then it hit you. Just a moment later, it, also hit you.

"You know what to do…"

You froze down in shock. Terror showed on your face, and Tara immediately stopped, watching you worriedly. 'No, no, no, no… It can't… Why…' you felt like your mind stopped working. Everything felt cold and hot at the same time, your clothes too tight, you couldn't breathe. Tara stepped to you, saying something, but you couldn't hear it. Then she gripped your shoulders and shook you up a bit.

"Look at me!" she spoke, her words finally hitting your ear. "Y/N!" you obliged. "What's the matter? It was just a joke. Nothing serious…" she hugged you softly.

"N- No it wasn't that…"

"Then what was it?"

You couldn't tell her. You wanted to run away, to curl up in a corner and hide the world from yourself. Her eyes wouldn't let you. So you did the second best thing that came to your mind. You lied.

"La- lately I have started having panic attacks. They are tied to what happened with me in my childhood." 'Idiot!' you thought.

"Mhm, how can I help?"

"This does…" you said eyeing her closeness. She held you even tighter now, calming you down.

You don't know how long you've been standing in her arms, but after a while you slowly pulled away to kiss her. "How's the drawing going?"

She smiled at you. "Ready for you to judge babe." she said, taking her sketchbook from the couch, showing you the newly drawn masterpiece. You were truly amazed by it.

"I can't decide why it looks so good. Because it is about me, or because you were the one to draw it." you teased.

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The next days were torture. It came back indefinitely. It overtook your image in your reflections once again. It spoke to you in the most inconvenient of times. It tried to influence you again. And it fuelled your hatred of Kent.

You always saw him around Tara, either you were, or weren't with her. He was like a little puppy, eagerly following her around. He definitely had a crush on her. This made you mad and insecure. It was like there was a knife, twisting in your stomach. The Voice only made it worse. Somehow it succeeded at making you not think of Kent as a human, but as a threat. As a predator, who was circling around something, that was yours. This made your nights restless and your days infuriating.

"We need to keep her safe." it spoke to you, as you were drying your hair.

"I need to keep her safe, yes. Stop using the royal we please."

"There is not one, without the other. I am a part of you and you can't even fuckin' deny it."

"I can, and I do. Can I dry my hair now?"

"I see your dreams as well as you do. I know you've been dreaming about it. Let us cut him up!"

You didn't answer him.

"Oh, it would be a site to see. The bloodied mess of his open stomach. I bet his screams would be just as beautiful as your dreams show. What sweet nightmare we can bring to life if we pay him a visit! Picture Tara! See as he touches her, as he holds her!" you couldn't cut the pictures out of your head. You were furious, full of hatred and jealousy. It took your thoughts over. No. You took your own thoughts over. "Now picture him dead."

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That night you put on the mask. You didn't need to go far for it, as it was tucked away in your closet. The robes and the knife too. Originally you only wanted to buy a fake knife, but to your aunt's advice, you bought a real one. What a great decision that was.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection didn't behave differently from you. You pulled the mask down, and smiled at yourself. It was you all along.

You started the engine of your aunts' car. She was away on a business trip, and left the car for your use at home. You couldn't be more thankful for her, that she thought you how to drive at summer. Kent was living at the other half of Woodsboro, and you didn't want unwilling eyes to see you.

You stopped two blocks away from his house. You put your mask on, and taped the voice changer to your neck. You got out of the car and quickly made your way to the backyard of his house. Light shined out of the building. Only one shutter wasn't pulled down, and it was on the second floor of the house. 'Fuckin' prick too. Oh this really will be fun!'

You pulled your phone out and rang the number of the houses' line phone. While still at home, you searched it out of the phone book, your aunt was still keeping at home. It rang for a while, before someone finally picked it up.

"Hello?" you heard his voice from the line, uncertain.

"Hello there Kent." you said, voice changer turned on.

"Who am I speaking to?"

You chuckled. "Soon, you'll discover. Tell me! Would you like to play a game?"

He didn't answer right away, as if he was talking to someone. Were his parents not out of town? "Well, I'm kind of in the middle of one, so I would say no…"

You looked in through a small gap at one of the shutters. "I think this game is more fun than Monopoly…" you said with a grin under your mask.

"How do you know what we're playing?"

"Don't you know not to ask this question?" oh, he was clueless. Sweet sweet ignorance.

Now, a familiar voice came to the phone. "Hello sweet prank caller! Could you please let my friend go now? He needs to step in my hotel!"

You recognized her. What was Tara doing here? Your mind went through the possible causes, then you remembered. She invited you too for game night, but you backed out of the offer. 'Fuck. Well, can't back off now can I?'

"No I cannot Tara Carpenter. I have some unfinished business with the gentleman."

You saw the shock that settled on her face through the gap. It didn't please you even in the least amount. Then she looked up at Kent and cut the line. Both of them are going to start searching for you know. The others already left. Mindy and Chad left with Liv, because she needed her private time with Chad, and Mindy didn't have a car of her own. Wes had a tight deadline to head home because of her mother. Amber called sick for the week. The only ones staying the longest were always you and Tara. You didn't know about Kents' friends, but you didn't see more people than two.

You climbed up at the eaves of the house to the window, where your only entrance lied. You opened it with your knife, and climbed in without a sound. You called again.

"So, I bet you are dying to hang on the line now!"

"You talked about a game… If I play, you leave us alone… Right?"

Obviously Tara wasn't near him. She would have given him such a smack, that his screams would've echoed up the stairs. Oh what wouldn't you give to hear that sound.

"Precisely! Now you are getting it. I ask, you answer. A wrong answer means five more stabs! Do I have your undivided attention?"

You heard his gulp through the phone. "Yes."

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

"There is no good answer to this!"

"Wrong… You are living in Woodsboro. There can only be one good answer. Stab. But since this would be an unfair game, I will give you some fair questions, so you have a chance." You played with your knife in hand, waiting for his response.

"Okay…"

"Tell me Kent. What were you and Tara talking about when you took her hand, and drag her to class?"

"How…"

"I think at this point you really should know better than to ask back boy."

Little pause. "We were talking about her girlfriend. I was saying she was too possessive of her and she started a fight with me.

"Very good! Two more questions to go." you said as you sneaked down the stairs. "I'm going to make this harder for you. Who is the man behind the mask in the original Stab?"

"Lemme think!"

"Tick tack Kent!" you said after ten seconds. "If you don't answer, Tara might be in trouble. And you wouldn't dare risk her pretty shirt getting all bloody would you now?

"If you dare touch her!"

"I would be more interested in your wellbeing at the moment, if I were you. Answer!"

"I- I don't know!"

"Wroooong again… You disappoint me young man. I know for a fact Tara has told you about this, since she tells everyone about them. The right answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher." you were in the living room now, sanding not far and behind him. "Last question, and this better be right! Do you think, I could have made it into your house, through the window that was wide open on your second floor?"

His head shot back, fear in his eyes. It was more beautiful then you ever imagined. You theatrically hung up the phone, then waved at him with the knife.

"TARA RUN!" He yelled out, as he too, started to run towards the front door. You took your time chasing him. Before you called first, you barricaded the front door. Nobody could leave that way.

He was banging on the door terror in his eyes as you walked slowly closer. "What's your answer Kenty boy?"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm afraid that I can't take that as the right answer…" you said tsking, then you started running at him hand and knife raised. He tried to duck away, but you predicted it and ran your blade through his side. It felt so good! The warmth of his blood that soaked your hand, the scream of pain he let out. It was liberating. "One!" you shivered out, euphoria taking over your body.

You pulled the knife out of his stomach, then kicked him to the ground. He desperately tried to defend himself, failing miserably in it. As you climbed him, he hit your ribs, and tried to pull of your mask. Each attempt he made, you rewarded it with a stab. His blood spilled on your mask, bloodying it. You couldn't contain the laugh that escaped your mouth. You counted the stabs, making sure to reach the target. Blood spilled from his mouth as he writhed under you. Your own blood was pumping in your ear, making you numb. You almost didn't hear the scream that echoed through the house. Your head snapped back up, searching for its source. Even though you didn't want to believe it, you would have recognized that voice from anywhere. Tara was in trouble.

You stood up, kicking his now lifeless body in the process. Then marched your way to where you heard her. As you entered the kitchen, you froze down from confusion. Tara was on the ground, sticking a kitchen knife in someone's neck, whom you saw with Kent two times before. 'So there was a third wheel…' You watched as she took the life of the boy, only looking up at you after she was done, smile on her face. That bloodied smile made you melt. This was a completely new side of her, that you never saw before. The insanity in her eyes was burning, her perfect white teeth shown to you.

"What took you so long?" she asked still smiling, getting closer to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked back. Your voice changer didn't work anymore. Kent probably ruined it.

When she reached you, she took your mask of and kissed you immediately, all softness gone from her. She bit your tongue and pulled you into her smaller body. You were so turned on from her, and you knew she felt it.

"You mean, you wanted me to get to him?" you asked, as you pulled away for a moment.

"We both wanted you to get to him. Our first night together, remember? The Voice in you, overtook you, and made me feel better than ever." she said, as she started undressing you, pulling you upstairs. "Afterwards, we talked freely. You told me everything about your past, so I told you everything too. I told you, how I feel my anger build up until I can't control it. I told you about my first victim, and you devoured me for it! So in return, I decided to help free yourself." she took half a step back looking at you with wild, heart eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." you said instantly. As her lips crashed on yours, you could only think about you being finally complete. Complete with her, complete with yourself. You picked her up, and carried her upstairs. You dropped her onto the bed, and climbed after her. You were finally free. She liberated you, and you would dedicate your whole life to showing her how grateful you were for that.

#tara x reader #scream fanfic #scream #jenna ortega #fanfiction #my stuff #ghostface!tara #ghostface!reader #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!taracarpenter #first fanfic

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atlantaartisticweddings · 2 years

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Atlanta Wedding Photographer Gets Married!

I am very excited to share this week’s blog post. I have known this couple for years now and just love them! They are Joe and Tara from the Atlanta Artistic Wedding team!

Let’s start with a little history. I first met Tara when she took some photography classes with me at Emory and was one of the best students I ever had. She was very creative and driven. When I gave out an assignment she went over and beyond. She has a very unique approach to photography and best of all for wedding photography she is great with people.

After the classes were finished I asked Tara to start shooting weddings with me. It is one of the best decisions I have ever made. She has shot close to 100 weddings with me. She does not shoot like me and that is why I like working with her. She brings her own style. When we shoot together the client gets a variety of shots with unique perspectives.

About a year ago Tara let me know that she and Joe were engaged! I was really happy for them. I have met Joe on many occasions and they make a great couple. She told me they were having a destination wedding in the Caribbean at one of their favorite vacation spots but they wanted to have the wedding certificate in the U.S., and were planning on having a courthouse wedding before the formal wedding on the island with their friends and family. She asked me if I would take a few photos at their courthouse wedding and I said “of course!”. I was so honored and thrilled. She told me they were getting married at the Fulton County Courthouse in February and I met them there. It was raining and security would not let me inside to take photos so I waited outside for them. When they came out they were so excited! I took a few photos of them outside the courthouse and backlit them with my flash. The results reflected their fun and adventurous personalities.

If you were worrying about them not having a beautiful wedding, I have enclosed a photo Tara sent me from her wedding on the island. As you can see it was absolutely breathtaking and much better weather!

Thanks for checking out this Atlanta wedding photographers blog! I hope you enjoyed the read and that you found it interesting and informative! Make sure you keep coming back to our blog to see what the Atlanta wedding photographers at Atlanta Artistic Weddings get up to! If you’d like to contact me go to the contact page and drop me a line at https://www.atlantaartisticweddings.com/contact-atlanta-wedding-photographer. I would love to hear from you!

Thanks again!

#atlantaphotographer #Atlanta wedding photographers #atlanta wedding photographer #Atlanta Artistic Weddings #atlanta photolocations

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snelbz · 3 years

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Life As We Know It {Chapter Three}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta sat across the kitchen table in Azriel and Elain’s kitchen, looking at her sister.

“I mean, I just don’t get it,” Nesta continued, shaking her head. “Me and Cassian… Why didn’t they choose you and Azriel? You’ve been together forever and want a big family.”

“You’re second guessing taking care of Nyx?” Elain asked, with no judgement, just curiosity.

“No, of course not,” Nesta began, sighing. “It’s just… Me and Cassian?”

“They did try to set you two up all those years ago,” Elain said, propping an elbow on the table and dropping her chin in her hand.

Nesta raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And how well did that work out?”

Elain rolled her eyes, but sighed. “Feyre was right though,” she said, looking at the letter from Rhys and Feyre, laying face down on the table. Nesta had brought it over for Elain to read, which had just made them both start crying over again. “You have the fiercest heart. Nyx needs you in his life.”

She blinked away the tears lining her eyes again. Silently, she wondered when she’d be able to think about her sister, about Rhys again, without dissolving into tears. She knew it would be a long while.

Finally, she said, “I know he does. I just don’t understand why Cassian has to be involved. That’s not going to be a healthy environment for him to grow up in.”

She could already see it, she and Cassian at each other’s throats. He knew how to get under her skin, loved to do it, did it as often as he could. It would be all Nyx saw as he grew up, his guardians screaming at each other.

“He needs to be somewhere happy and loving and peaceful. Like here, Lainy. He’d flourish here, with you and Az and Seph.”

Elain gave her sister a long, wistful look. Her eyes were soft and misty when she said, “We’re just learning to take care of one, Nes. I can’t… We can’t take on another infant. And, besides, it wasn’t what Feyre and Rhys wanted.”

“They probably wrote that the second they got engaged,” Nesta said, knowing that wasn’t true. “They didn’t know what they wanted.” Elain glanced at the open letter that sat on the table between them. “I read it. They knew exactly what they wanted for Nyx in case something happened to them, and I think that they were right. Just because you and Cassian can’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not a good idea.”

“The lawyer will disagree with that,” Nesta muttered, remembering Tarquin’s words from their meeting. I tried to advise them against this. She shivered. “The thought of living with Cassian and playing house has me nauseous. And pissed off. So pissed off that I’m nauseous.”

Elain sighed again. “He really is a-.”

“A good guy,” Nesta interrupted, letting her head fall into her hands. Her fingers tugged in the roots slightly. “I know. You keep telling me that. Feyre always told me that. Everyone keeps telling me that. But the two of us?” She looked up at Elain, letting her see into those eyes that matched Feyre’s perfectly, letting her see the slight panic in them, letting her see everything. “We aren’t compatible. Everything about him, it throws me off.”

A cry from down the hall had both of the women standing, but when Nesta realized it was Nyx, she hurried out of the kitchen. In a flash, she was in the spare room, crossing to the small crib Elain and Az had set up for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant.

Nyx’s blue eyes were wide and he let out another tortured wail and Nesta tried to soothe him before he was even in her arms. “It’s okay, bubba,” she cooed, holding him against her chest. He kept crying, though the volume of his screams lessened. Instead they were more akin to what Nesta would have almost called sobs.

“It’s been a long day,” she breathed. “I think we should go home, yeah?”

She gathered his diaper bag from where it laid on the bed and when she entered the living room, Elain was sitting on the couch, reading over the letter again. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna get him home,” Nesta said, softly. She repeated, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

Nodding, Elain folded the letter back up and wiped at the tears on her face with the back of her hand. “Right.” She held the letter out to Nesta, who took it, careful not to jostle Nyx who had finally quieted down, though Nesta could tell he was still awake.

His little hand was pressed to the side of her neck, and she could feel it moving gently.

“Call me if you need anything,” Elain said, carefully hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of Nyx’s head. “Az and I will help you move what you need to into the house, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

Nesta could only nod, still unsure of how she was going to do this, how she was going to live her life, while also taking care of the far more precious one in her arms. She silently left, driving home and getting Nyx inside and settled, letting him sit in the Bumbo seat she’d found in the kitchen atop the counter while she cooked dinner.

After putting him down for bed, Nesta found herself sitting on the balcony off of Rhys and Feyre’s old bedroom. She looked out into the small wood that made up their backyard, over the pool and chairs that had been set up for the approaching summer, but her eyes were drawn up to the stars that Velaris was famous for.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, not sure if she was admitting it to herself or to Rhys and Feyre, listening to her wherever they were. “I’m so scared I’ll do something wrong.”

The sounds of crickets and other manner of nighttime creatures were the only reply she received.

“I know you believed in me, in us, but I don’t. I want to make you both proud but I don’t know if I can do that. I just need something to tell me that I’m not making a huge mistake and-.

She softly gasped as a shooting star went blazing across the sky, a second one following it right after.

Her lip trembled as she nodded up at the night sky, understanding, knowing who had sent those stars. She almost felt like she could feel them there, as if they were telling her that it would be hard, but she could do it.

And she… she didn’t have to do it alone.

Cassian wasn’t at Az and Elain’s for thirty seconds before he crossed to the mini-fridge Azriel kept stocked in the garage.

“There’s no way they thought this was a good idea,” he said, pacing around, Azriel silently watching him. “It’s a sick joke, just like all of this is. There’s another letter somewhere that says just kidding, wouldn’t that be funny though?”

He cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go.

“I mean, Rhys and I always messed around and shit, but…this is too far,” he went on, tossing the can in the garbage and reaching for another one.

Azriel crossed his arms as he said, “Too many of those and you may think it’s funny, too.”

Cassian shot him a look as he drank from his can. “This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.”

Azriel took a deep breath before saying, “Did you stop to think that maybe they knew exactly what they were doing?”

Cassian said nothing as he propped himself on a stool and shook his head. Azriel didn’t push him. Eventually, Cassian said, quietly, “I want to help Rhys. I want to be the man that he thought I was. I mean, shit, he left me in charge of his child. And I would die for that child. But, Nesta was right, you know? I have no idea how to take care of a kid, especially one as young as Nyx.”

“You think I did, when Seph came along?” He asked, leaning back against the workbench. Cassian was as comfortable in this garage as he was his own, had created just as many beautiful things here as he had in his own cramped space. But he focused on Azriel’s words, sighed as he listened to his brother.

“I was scared shitless, but that didn’t mean a thing to her, or to Elain,” he went on. “Because they both needed me. They needed me to get my shit together and figure it out, and that’s exactly what I did.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his feet, at his dirty work boots and silently drank from the can in his hands.

Azriel crossed the garage and pulled out a beer of his own, cracking it open and taking a drink. “So read the books, do the research, go online, do whatever you have to do, but Cassian, listen to me.”

His brother rarely used his full name, so he looked up at him, nor expecting to find the tenderness on his face or the silver lining his eyes.

“If you think for one second that Rhys and Feyre didn’t know what they were doing, you’re wrong. No one loves that little boy as much as you do. Yeah, you’re probably going to fuck up once or twice, but it’s okay.” Azriel placed a hand on his shoulder. “It happens and as long as you learn from it, that’s all that matters.”

Cassian wiped at his eye with the back of his hands. “I’m fucking scared, man.”

“I know you are,” Az replied, his voice dropping, almost gentle. “Not to mention we’re all still hurting. But you and Nesta are going to be fine, Nyx is going to be fine.”

Cassian clamped his eyes shut. He groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad, I know I can learn to take care of Nyx, but Nesta? They expect me to live with Nesta?”

Azriel actually hesitated. “Yeah, that sucks.”

Cassian, despite himself, laughed quietly. “Yeah.”

“But, believe it or not, I think she’d be good for you,” Azriel said, keeping that quiet tone.

“Now you’re trying to set us up?” Cassian asked, wiping at his eyes and the tears that had nearly fallen.

Azriel shook his head. “No. But, Nesta Archeron gets shit done. And she loves Nyx, too. The two of you together….different parenting styles? Yeah. But, you’d be surprised at how well two opposites balance each other out when it comes to parenting.”

Cassian thought of Azriel and Elain. They were both gentle and kind, but they were pretty opposite, too.

“And if it’s a complete failure?” Cassian asked.

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian. At last, he said, “It won’t be.”

Cassian wanted to believe him, wanting to feel confident in the words Azriel said, but even his third beer hadn’t lifted his confidence.

He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling, at the garage door that was raised to allow the cool, night breeze in. “I have to live with Nesta Archeron. The Mother thinks she’s funny. The Cauldron is laughing at me. Fate is rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally.”

“No,” Az chuckled. “I think that might be Rhys.”

Cassian snorted, but the door to the house opened and Elain stuck her head out. She smiled softly at Cassian, who raised his drink in greeting. “I thought I heard you out here. You gonna stay for dinner?”

His alternative was grabbing something from a drive through or searching through his fridge for something that wasn’t completely freezer burned, so he smiled and said, “Sure, Lainy. Thanks.”

She beamed at them both and the door clicked shut behind her as she turned to go back to the kitchen. Cassian looked over at Azriel to find him still smiling like a fool at the door.

He sighed quietly as he realized he would probably never have that, would never have someone he could stare after and gaze at as fondly as Azriel did Elain. Not if he was to spend his life shackled to someone who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

As soon as he thought the words, he chastised himself, stepping out into the driveway. She was just as miserable about the whole ordeal as he was. But for Nyx, they could try and make it work. They would make it work. They would do what they had to.

He sighed, gazing up into the night sky.

Shaking his head, he wondered if there was some sort of afterlife. If there was, he wondered if Rhysand and Feyre were somewhere in the sky, looking down at him, trying to encourage him, trying to get a message to him during this horrible, hectic, anxiety-ridden unknown time.

He hoped they were.

He could use it.

That encouragement.

That love.

Cassian began raising his can to his lips, but then he froze.

A shooting star shot across the night sky.

Then another.

Cassian’s hand fell back to his side as he stared at the bright Velaris starlight, completely in awe.

They were watching, they were there with him. They were there with all of them.

Of course they were.

Cassian swore under his breath as he fully gave into the ridiculous notion of moving in with Nesta, of co-parenting with the most frustrating, stubborn woman in Prythian.

But for Nyx, he would.

For Rhysand, for Feyre, he would.

#life as we know it #snacmc lawki #nessian #nessian contest #nesta archeron #cassian #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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drcalmreid · 4 years

Text

friends - s.r. (pt. 2/2)

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: pure angst - friends with benefits always ends up with one person scorn out of jealousy...and in this case, it’s spencer. especially when he sees you flirting with one of his BAU partners. (pt. 2/2)

content warning: consumption of alcohol, indication of sex (no smut!), mention of narcotics/psychological disorders

word count: 5.1k // part one

authors notes: yall know the drill….lyrics = indicate a flashback!! Make sure you read part 1 first! :)

YOUR POV

“JJ, will you get a look at these two…I don’t know which one I’m in love with more.” Penelope squeals, bouncing back and forth on her neon pink heels. I roll my eyes and give her a playful shove, but continue dancing near Luke. Luke smiles his model-status grin and moves to the music pulsing through the bar.

“Jesus, Pen! How much have you drank?” JJ smiles as she reaches the dancefloor yet again. I look over JJ’s shoulder to see Reid, blank stare locked on the dance floor, his fingers swirling around in the condensation on the table. Spencer blinks quickly as our eyes meet and he shakes his head, looking down again at the table.

“How much I have drank is irrelevant,” Penelope yells over the music and takes another sip from her half-filled drink, most of which has ended up on the dance floor.

“I think it's pretty relevant,” Emily chuckles, as Tara smiles in agreeance.

“I mean, c’mon! Look at them!” She raises a finger at Alvez and I, but I shake my head at her attempts to play cupid. I spin to face Luke and pull him closer to me, “Wanna give her a show?” He tilts his head, processing my words as I smile at him.

“(y/n),” Luke grins. “I’m extremely uncoordinated. I’m barely dancing as is.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” I say, wrapping my arm around him. The alcohol in my system, anger, confusion, and overall emotions combine and push my confidence to an absurd level. I feel as if I’m watching myself from the outside as I dance with Luke. He throws his head back in a smooth laugh as I spin against him. I move my hips steadily and lead Luke’s hands around my waist; I rest my head on his chest as our bodies sync to one another.

“Oh my god, they’re really going for it.” Tara gawks through laughs and Emily throws invisible dollars in our direction. Penelope fans herself as if it will cool her down as JJ raises her eyebrows and chews on the end of her straw, casually trying to look over her shoulder at our table, but I know she’s watching Spencer. I just can’t let him in, I can’t. I did that once and I ruined everything. I still don’t even know how, but I did. So if I keep dancing, keep drinking, keep moving, I won’t be able to stop and think. And rethink. And think again and again, replaying every memory of the time I spent with Spencer. My hazey eyes lift from the grimy club floor just in time to see Spencer bolt up from the booth and out the bar doors.

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

“I love you,” the words slip out of my mouth like silk and I shoot my eyes open in the dark hotel room. Fuck. My sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion have made me become a love-struck puddle in his arms. “Spencer,” I whisper among the darkness, but there’s no answer. Thank God. Of course I love Spencer. I always have. The last four months have been some of the best of my life, but we both agreed that we wouldn’t place pressure on ourselves and keep everything private...but private means bottled up, and my bottle’s full. Hell, it’s overflowing. We’ve spent endless nights together, limbs tangled together, Spencer’s finger combing through my hair, or my hands running through his curls as he lays on my chest, his fingers tracing my sides. Tonight, Spencer breathes heavily beside me as sleep consumes him. More times than not Spencer falls asleep before I do, and I can’t help but think he’s able to because we’re together and finally comfortable and peaceful after the most physically and mentally draining days. Spencer releases a long breath and squeezes me tighter, as if I’m going to slip out of his grip and he’ll never hold me like this again.

The morning comes sooner than I’d hoped as I open my eyes to an empty bed and bright sun rays pouring through the cheap hotel curtains. I rub my face with my palm as my words come back to me. They echo in my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull...I love you, I love you, I love you. I realize now that I said it because I truly do love him, but admitting that to myself (let alone Spencer) complicates our non-relationship relationship even more than I thought possible. So, instead I shake my limbs and stand from the bed, shoving the memory of last night into a new bottle of emotions. “Spence?” I call out into the room, but there’s only silence on the other end. I walk in and out of the bathroom to no sign of the Doctor before I spot the hotel notepad on the side table. “Went in early to see if I could get some more files from the local PD, trying a new perspective. Didn’t want to wake you. -Dr. Spencer Reid”. I put down the cheap notepad and chuckle at his signature, even signing a note for his friend is formal and properly scripted...typical. I pull on my usual clothes for a long day of profiling and step out into the hotel hallway.

“Morning,” a voice chirps from behind me.

“Jesus! Luke!” I say startled and swat his chest. “Scared the shit out of me. You’re lucky I didn’t pull my gun on you.”

“Eh,” he pulls on the strap of his bag as we walk towards the elevators. “I would have been fine.”

“Oh your ego is that big that you think you’d survive a shot to the chest?”

“No no no, I didn’t say that,” he smiles as the elevator doors slide open. “I just know you’re an awful shot.”

“Oh fuck you,” I chuckle and slap his arm. He grins at me with a cocky look but doesn’t say anything else. The elevator glides downstairs and opens again in the lobby. The two of us climb into the BAU’s black SUV and head back to the local offices for the rest of our long day.

Once we arrive, I spot Spencer instantly as he sits cross legged on a wide wooden folding table. Files and folders are scattered across all parts of the floor as well as his lap as he stares ahead at the whiteboard in front of him. He glances down a few times, scanning over the pages he has, but turns his head in our direction as soon as Luke and I approach the room.

“After you,” Luke winks as he holds the door open for me. I roll my eyes at him but walk through the door into the glass-walled conference room. “What? No, thank you?”

“Nope,” I say as I sit down at the table, opening up my bag. “Not after you insulted me this morning.”

Spencer sits up straighter as if his body involuntarily responded to my words.

“(Y/n), I would never insult you,” Luke says as he takes the chair next to me. “I like you too much.”

Spencer clears his throat and keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead, but I know he’s listening.

“Besides,” Luke leans down to whisper in my ear. “It’s a lot more fun to mess with you.”

“I’m going to get a coffee, you guys want anything?” Spencer says abruptly and hops off the edge of the table, but he’s out the door before we can even answer.

“Morning to you too,” I comment as the door slams closed.

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Spence?” I choke out as I watch him lean against the brick wall. His tie is mangled in his hands as his chest rises and falls quicker than normal. “Are you okay? I saw you run out, I-”

“I’m fine, (y/n).” He spits back at me.

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Alright, well if you’re fine, then I’ll leave you,”

“Do you like him?...Luke. Do you like Luke?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean- it seems like you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, you- you just were dancing and-”

“Oh my god. You’re jealous. Spencer, seriously?”

“I’m sorry that I can’t see you with other guys, it’s not fair for me to watch that. I can’t, (y/n).”

“Well...that’s not really my problem is it? You told me to, let’s see...how did you put it?” I glance up at the sky as if I’m trying to remember the exact words he used, but it’s all for show. I’ll never forget his words. They’re branded into me like a filthy scar on my heart. So I swallow my pride and turn the words right back at him, “ ‘Get over my feelings because we’re not together’? I believe that’s what you said.”

“(y/n), I-”

“Spencer, please just don’t say anything else. You’ve said enough. Just so we’re clear. None of this is fair, and I can dance with whoever I want.”

I step inside the bar yet again and practically sprint back to the group, desperately searching for the team. Luke spots me first and rushes towards me.

“Hey, hey,” he grabs both of my arms and squats down to get to my eyeline as I stare down at the floor. I try my best to push back the tears building up, but they’re becoming too much. “Are you okay?”

“I have to get out of here.”

“What did he say to you?” Luke gently asks.

“Nothing,” I mumble and wipe my eye with the back of my hand. “I just, I just need to go.”

“Okay,” he rubs my arms. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The next thing I know, I’m placed inside Luke’s car as he clips my seatbelt and I stare straight ahead, completely numb from everything. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks as Luke drives in silence. He coughs for a split second before turning to look at me, “I was going to drop you off at home, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“What do you mean like this?” I bite back and wipe my eyes with the edges of my fingers. “Shit, sorry Luke, I didn’t mean that.” I laugh and look at my mascara covered hands. “Obviously you meant like this,” I say gesturing towards my awful appearance. Luke chuckles lightly and glances over at me quickly before fixing his eyes back to the road.

“C’mon let’s go to my place first and then I’ll drop you off later.”

Normally I respond with some sarcastic comment and insist on going home, but honestly I’m too drained to even fight. So I nod slowly and stare out the window watching the passing cars.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

The elevator door chimes and opens itself into the BAU offices. We all step out of the elevator calling out goodbyes for the night. Spencer heads towards his desk, as I follow closely behind. Ever since Luke and I came into the local PD offices two days ago, he’s been different. Spencer stayed in his own room our last night at the hotel, claiming he “fell asleep reading” but I know he was lying. Quickly, I pack my things into my go bag and get ready to leave, my own bed calling my name. I glance around and spot my teammates scattered across the bullpen: Penelope back in her bat-cave, Luke’s got his head down in a stack of files, Tara and JJ headed directly out the door headed home, Emily climbing the stairs to her office with Rossi shortly behind.

I inch closer to Spencer’s desk casually and lean against it to whisper to him, “hey”

“Hi.” He responds, keeping his eyes down on the book in front of him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the damn thing since we got on the plane. He was so enchanted by this book that he sat down opposite to me on the plane, rather than side-by-side. He just seems so….off. I can’t figure out what it is exactly, but he’s not the same. All our small gestures are gone—and I don’t want to overreact because it’s only been two days, but Spencer isn’t like this.

“Did you want to grab dinner? I’m starving,” I smile, trying my best to lighten the mood.

“Not hungry,” he coolly responds, with his head still down.

“Well, I am...so you—”

“So go get dinner, (y/n). Seems like a pretty simple answer.”

“I was waiting for you,” I say and he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. I stand next to his desk awkwardly for a moment before Luke breaks my attention away. He shuffles all his things into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, “g’night guys.”

“Night, Luke,” I smile and he exits the office. Spencer releases a stifled groan and tries to cover it with a cough.

“What was that for?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. Spencer finally looks up from his book and shrugs. “Spencer, what?” I ask again and he frowns slightly, turning back down to his pages again. I shake my head at him and grab my bag from the edge of his desk and pull it over my shoulder.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” I say calmly and walk past his desk but he doesn’t respond, again. I can’t help myself and I actually chuckle at him, “seriously? You’re ignoring me now? What did I do? Did I do something?”

“Nope,” he sternly answers.

“Then why wont you talk to me?”

“We’re talking now,” he says, looking up from his desk. Our eyes meet and lock on one another. Neither of us break away from the stare as the tension rises between us.

“That’s not what I meant,” I whisper through gritted teeth. He shrugs again, his eyes unwavering from mine.

“Spencer, what the hell has gotten into you? You barely talked to me the rest of the case and on the jet. We usually talk after rough cases like this to check on each other.”

“Well I’m not your boyfriend, you made that abundantly clear, so I don't really need to keep tabs on you, do I?” Spencer snaps, standing up from his desk chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Nothing- I just, we can’t do this anymore,” he rubs his face with his hands and gathers his books off the desk. He walks away from his desk, leaving me standing there stunned. He leaves the bullpen and presses the door to the elevator. The doors slide open and he steps inside. Without a second thought, I run through the office and into the elevator just in time.

“(Y/n), please.” He sighs, while pressing the down button.

“Spencer, just talk to me—”

“(Y/n), we can’t do this anymore because I don’t have feelings for you.”

“What? No—” I shake my head in complete shock and denial. I feel tears forming in my eyes, but I push them away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“We’re not on the same page….and I can’t control how you feel but, you need to get over your feelings because we’re not together. This doesn’t work between us, (y/n). Let it go,” Spencer says looking straight ahead as the doors slide open again and he exits through them.

All of your friends have been here for too long

They must be waiting for you to move on

[Boy], I'm not with it I'm way too far gone

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

“Luke, I’m not telling you what he said!” I protest, sitting cross legged on his couch. I throw a piece of popcorn into my mouth and then toss another in Luke’s direction.

“C’mon (y/n),” he sighs, stretching out his legs across my lap on the couch. “You and I both know how stubborn I am. I’m not giving up, what did Reid say? Do I need to kick his ass?”

“You, Luke Alvez, are the worst,” I laugh at him. “But, I’ll tell you because...well I’m still a little drunk so what the hell.” I sigh and tell him about everything. The details and stories pour out of me as Luke rests his head on his palm watching me talk. He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“So,” I take a deep breath. “Now you’re caught up. God….Penelope’s gonna kill me when she finds out you know about Reid and I before her.”

He smiles and sits up on the couch, “listen (y/n), I know he’s a textbook genius, but Reid is an idiot. If he doesn’t realize how perfect the two of you are together and how much he loves you then any statistic he knows is useless. You’re too good, for him to be acting like this.”

“Wow,” I grin at him and give him a playful shove. “Look who’s getting sentimental!”

“Alright, forget I said it!” Luke stands up from the couch, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Morning sleepy head,” Luke says, passing me a premade smoothie.

“Shit,” I sit up from the couch and blink my eyes harshly. “I can’t believe I slept here. Sorry, I’m the worst-”

“Hey,” Luke cuts me off. “Stop doing that. You’re fine. I was going to offer you the bed anyway, but you passed out before the movie ended.”

“Thank you, I mean seriously. All jokes aside,” I stand from the couch. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Look, I’m not kicking you out either, but do you need a ride home?”

“Shit,” I shake my head. “Penelope and Emily drove me. My keys are at the BAU.”

“So we’ll stop there first.” He grabs his keys off the entrance table.

“Seriously, Luke,” I reach out and hug him around the waist. “Thank you.”

“So you and Reid…” Luke turns into the BAU parking garage. I shush him and he laughs lightly. “Four months?”

“Four months.” I nod while giving a weak smile.

“And you loved him?” He asks quietly, as if not to scare me.

“Yeah,” I turn to look at him. “I thought I did, but I don’t- I don’t know anymore.” Luke nods again as he pulls into his assigned spot. I open the car door and step on the pavement. The garage is empty besides a few chief cars and our footsteps echo off the walls. It’s a Saturday morning and no one dares to come into the offices unless directly called to...even the FBI needs a weekend sometimes. We walk quietly together through the empty lot and into the section of the building where our offices are located. Luke and I scan our badges and follow the normal protocol just to get inside.

“You really didn’t have to come with me.” I say to Luke as we climb the stairs. “I do work here, I think I would have been okay.”

“And missed you hungover trying to walk up these stairs? No way,” he smirks and continues up the steps. The rest of the time we climb up the stairs I focus solely on trying my best not to think about how awful I feel — both mentally and physically. My head is spinning from the combination of last night's drinks and Spencer. Fuck, I miss him. Luke snaps me out of my own head when he opens the stairwell door, “You ever think you’re going to talk to him again?”

“I mean we work together-”

“No no,” he laughs. “I meant talk to him, yknow,” Luke raises his eyebrows suggestively with a smirk.

“Why do I tell you things?”

“Because you love me,” Luke sings as he opens the door to our bullpen and we walk through it. I turn back to him and shove his arms.

“Luke, if you don’t stop,” I say as we enter the BAU. I scan the empty desks looking for mine when my eyes rest on a slumped over figure on the desk...not just the desk, but Spencer’s desk. “Oh my god, Spence.”

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

“Oh my god Spence,” the words tumble out of my mouth before I even realize I’m talking. Spencer turns to face me as I begin talking and his eyes shift between Luke and I. Spencer takes a deep breath in and spins around again in his chair, his back facing us. I clear my throat and scan the room for my keys, and there they sit on the edge of my desk across from Spencer. I shake my head at him and Luke lends down, “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” I smile and give him a weak nod, and Luke responds, “I’ll leave you two.”

“Thanks for everything,” I whisper to him and Spencer’s shoulders tense. Luke leaves the office through the glass doors and silence settles between Spencer and I. I sigh gently and make my way across the room to my desk. Spencer keeps his head down in some files as I reach my desk and grab my keys.

“Walk of shame?” Spencer mumbles, still looking down.

“What did you just say?” I ask feeling the anger build in me.

“I mean,” he snickers. He turns a pen over between his fingers, moving the pen back and forth. “That’s what you’re doing right?”

“You’re ridiculous,” I huff and grab my keys from the table top. Don’t give in to him. I remind myself as I close my eyes and take a deep breath before headed towards the doors. “Have a nice weekend, Spencer.”

“You’re just going to ignore me?” Spencer spins in his chair.

“Easier than having this conversation,” I snap at him.

“So you’re just leaving?” He asks, standing up from the desk.

“No,” I retort. “That’s your job. I’m just going home.”

“Home? Or Luke’s home?” He tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” I shake my head and step away from the doors, getting closer to him. “I didn’t sleep with Luke.” Spencer blinks slowly and swallows hard, but I continue, “and even if I did, why the hell does it matter? We’re not together, so who cares, right?” I practically laugh and cross my arms over my chest. Spencer leans back as if my words physically hit him in the chest. I turn around again, focused on the exit and getting the hell out of here.

“I do.”

“Yeah? And why do you care?” I yell, whipping around to face him.

Spencer runs his hands through his hair and screams, “Because I’m falling in love with you and I can’t stop it!”

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

SPENCERS POV

Love is never what you picture it to be. It’s messy, unpredictable, and hurts like hell. “We accept the love we think we deserve,” Stephen Chbosky once said...and I wish I did not agree with it. The exact moment I realized I was in love with (y/n) took me by surprise, I didn’t even realize what it was at first. I just always believed I wasn’t deserving of love—and no matter where I found it, ultimately it would all be a taunt before I was stripped of it. I realized I loved her on a flight home from a case in Dallas. The unsub was a young male with psychological disorders who was regularly using different narcotics to subdue his victims. Everyone on the case was hyper-sensitive of my relation to the case—Emily even offered for me to stay back home, but against my better judgement I got on the plane. Eventually, the case came to a close fairly quickly (as most do), but not without constant questions and repeated: “you okay?”’s from the rest of my team. Of course I wasn’t okay. (Y/n) and I followed our same routine as we always have for cases; I sneak into her room or she sneaks into mine, we bring each other food and coffee, steal longing glances at one another during profiles. and are just there for the other person. She didn’t ask or pry into my past about my emotions, she just listens to what I have to say and nods along calmly. She even reaches for my leg and hand under the table during a deep discussion of dilaudid, but her eyes never strayed from her papers or whoever was talking. She didn’t want to draw attention to me, but also didn’t want me forgotten. She made me feel normal. Unbroken. Deserving of love. On the flight home she sat down next to me and didn’t ask the baseless question, “are you okay?” instead she just said: “I’m so proud of you.” My heart nearly fell out of my chest when she said it. I didn’t realize the effect she had or the gravity of her words until she said them. I love her. When we finally landed back home, I wanted nothing more than to go to bed holding her and tell her I’m going to protect her from the world and it’s cruel intentions. But I couldn’t. Everything I’ve loved always leaves me, and I can’t let it be real because real means vulnerable. The following days pass by as if in slow motion, but also at the speed of light. Each one not just building up my love for (y/n), but also the walls around my heart. It feels as though I blink and we’re back on the jet for another case. Blink. The team is meeting with the local PD. Blink. We’re in the field with a new victim. Blink. (Y/n) and I are back in our hotel room as she mumbles, “I love you.” Blink. I lose my mind and lose her at the same time. Blink. We’re no longer friends. Blink. She’s moved on and onto Luke. Blink. I’m screaming my confession of love at her as if we’re in a Shakespearon play. Blink.

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

YOUR POV

“What did you just say?” I ask as my heart rate skyrockets. Spencer stays near his desk, his face showing he’s just as shocked as I am. His gigantic brain must be a complete mess right now. “Spencer, what did—”

“You know what I said,” he takes a deep breath in. “I love you.”

“But—” I choke out.

“I know. I know,” he rubs his face. “I know I told you I didn’t have feelings for you, but I lied.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying now because you’re jealous?” I ask, filled with rage. He shakes his head vigorously and steps closer to me, closing the gap between us. This is the closest he’s been to me in forever. I want to just reach out and melt into him, but I fight back the urge.

“I’m not lying,” he clasps his hands together. I raise my eyebrows and my eyes twitch. “I really do love you.” He reaches out to touch my arm and I step back. I can’t let him in again. At least not this easily. “(Y/n).” He croaks, his voice breaking.

“Do you think I’m that stupid? That I’ve just waited for you to come crawling back?” I ask, my tears stinging my eyes as they roll down my cheeks.

“No, no. Never, I- I never thought that. Ever,” Spencer rushes out.

“Then what is this?” I shake my head, “Because I feel so fucking stupid, Spencer. You left me. You told me you never felt the way I did, and I loved you-”

“I know you did,” he says smoothly. His words stun me, he knew? I step even further back, and I want to keep going and going until I’m out the door. “I heard you, that night in the hotel. When you told me you loved me.” Tears continue to move down my face as his words sink in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, wiping my face. Spencer steps closer to me, but I don’t move back.

“Because I was scared!” Spencer cries out. “When you said it, I- I felt it of course I did, but I was terrified. When you said you loved me and I knew I loved you...it all became real. Too real,” he sighs. “Everyone that I love, everything I love leaves me. I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“But pushed me away, Spencer.” I shake my head as he steps even closer.

“I know, I screwed up. So badly, (y/n). I’m so sorry,” he reaches out to touch my arms and instead of turning around, I lean into his touch. “If I could go back to that night, I would pull you closer and tell you then, but I can’t. So, I’m telling you now. I love you.” Instead of answering him, I just collapse into his arms completely exhausted. The back and forth, the drinking, the bottling of emotions, the confusion, everything...it’s too much and everything explodes at once. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and holds me up from melting into the floor. He wraps his arms so tightly around my torso and cradles the back of my head with his hands. My hands wrap around him and pull him closer than ever, I take a deep breath in and truly take him in. He’s here. I can’t lose him again.

“(Y/n),” Spencer coos, rubbing my head. I’ve missed him more than anything I’ve ever known.

“I do love you,” I sob and feel Spencer’s heart literally skip a beat. “I always have.”

“You do?” He pulls me away from his chest to look into my eyes. “I didn’t mess this up entirely? I didn’t lose you?” I shake my head no and lift my hands up from his chest and onto the sides of his face. He looks down at me with the kindest eyes. My heart sings and I stand up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. Spencer’s mouth molds into mine perfectly as if we never let one another. His hands squeeze my sides gently and Spencer pulls away smiling. I stroke my thumb across his cheek, whipping away one of his tears.

“You could never lose me, Spencer.”

—

yay! this is finally up!! took me longer than I wanted, but school work got in the way :/ anyway, hope you enjoyed!

masterlist // requests

stay safe & wear a mask!! -m

tags: @rexorangecouny

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid writing #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds angst #cm spencer

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #alternate universe #x files fanfic

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criminalshminds · 3 years

Text

Prompt #27

Prompt #27: “Hey have you seen my - Oh.” Pairing: Temily (Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss) Rating: T (mild swearing) TW: Brief mention of Xanax Words: 1,359

Thank you Anon for this prompt!! This was a pairing that I was so scared to write cuz I didn’t want to misjudge their characters and interactions, so I hope I did them justice!

***********************************************************************

The end of year Gala isn’t something that Emily Prentiss cared about since she joined the Bureau. All it did was remind her of the days when she was a teenager and her mother forced her to every political event possible. She believed getting into the FBI instead of working for the State Department would push her far away from politics. And then, she accepted the Unit Chief position for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. A position that was riddled with politics through and through. An oversight on her part to continue on with the team.

The rules for the Gala were simple, at least two members of every team needed to be in attendance. Typically, the Unit Chief and the senior agent of the team. So before, Hotch only made it mandatory for him and Rossi (or Gideon when he was on the team). This year, Emily stressed that it wasn’t mandatory for the entire team to be there, but it would be highly recommended for them to make an appearance. Needless to say, only two others on the team were interested in this evening. One Penelope Garcia, who is never going to say no to a party. And the other, well she has to go thanks to Emily begging her and bribing her with cuddles and wine.

Dr. Tara Lewis was always going to say yes, but she isn’t stupid and will never say no to some cuddles and free wine. There was always something about seeing her girlfriend all decked out in her finest that can’t stop a smile from forming on her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she swipes the last couple coats of mascara onto her eyelashes.

“Em, baby, we’re going to be late.” Tara moves the wand away from her face as she calls down the long hallway from the guest bathroom to the Master Suite that Emily has locked her out of. “You don’t want to piss of Barnes any more than she is already.”

“Maybe I wanna piss her off. I would love to watch her face pinch back up again.” Emily called out without opening the door.

“You’re all talk and you know it.” Tara shot back, putting the cap back on the mascara. She takes one last look at herself, before looking down at the counter to find her ring. It wasn’t the fanciest piece of jewelry, but it gave her comfort. It was the ring that she twisted when she got uncomfortable or nervous and it is definitely a piece that she needs to make it through this night. Especially, to make sure that the Brass doesn’t know that she’s involved with the Unit Chief. It’s one thing that the team knows that there’s something between them, it’s another thing if Section Chief Barnes finds out. Taking a sweeping look across the vanity one last time, she lets out a huff before making her way to the closed door.

Knocking lightly, she tries the handle. “Hey, Em? Have you seen my – oh.”

Surprisingly enough the handle opened, and she lays her eyes on her girlfriend. Standing in the middle of the room is Emily Prentiss, wearing a tight but flattering red dress that scoops down the back. The fabric cascades down from the top of her butt all the way to the floor falling in an elegant train behind her. Hearing the intrusion, Emily turns biting her lip. The front of the dress comes to a V right in between her cleavage, leaving very little to the imagination. A gold band adorned her waist separating the tight torso to the flowing skirt. The last thing that Tara saw while picking her jaw back up was the small silver ring that was being twisted on the Unit Chief’s right pointer finger.

Emily takes a quick look down at herself before mumbling. “Too much?”

“No, you look hot.” She saunters into the room, all the while her eyes keep drifting up and down the shorter brunette’s figure. She takes both of Emily’s hands in her own giving them a little squeeze. “I do have one problem with it.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Tara doesn’t say anything, she just flattens out Emily’s hands before sliding the ring off of her finger. “I believe this belongs to me.”

“What? Oh, come on. You say you twist it when you get nervous, and you always yell at me for picking my nails.” The complaint shocks Tara for a second, but then she moves her hands up to cup Emily’s face.

“Shh.” She leans her head forward and rests her forehead on hers. “Just take some deep breaths.”

Emily rolls her eyes before matching the calming breath of Tara’s.

“Now, go and finish your make up, and I’ll have something better than this old ring.”

The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Tara took in a deep breath. She reaches into the pocket of her pant suit to feel the ring box that she’s had for a couple weeks now. While they were out on a case, she stumbled across and Mom and Pop’s jewelry store that had the perfect ring for Emily. Nothing too flashy, it had three diamonds, one in the middle being the focal point, with the other two framing it on either side. This wasn’t the instance that Tara pictured herself proposing, she wasn’t going to ask for another couple days, but a time has never felt more appropriate than now.

Rolling out her neck, she sits at the foot of the bed waiting for Emily to finish her last couple touch ups. She closes her eyes and takes some steadying breaths. Just as she opens them back up the bathroom door opens, and Emily makes her way out.

“Alright, if your surprise is Xanax, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” Emily says as she makes her way over to Tara while fidgeting with the pearl bracelet on her wrist.

“No. it’s not Xanax.” Tara chuckles. “I know you too well to know that it does nothing for you.” That causes Emily to stick out her tongue, making Tara laugh harder.

“If you’re going to be mean, maybe I’ll make you go with Pen and I’ll stay here.”

“I’m sorry.” Tara chokes back her chuckle. Clearing her throat, she says. “Close your eyes.”

Emily shoots her a look, raising her eyebrows.

“It’ll be quick, just close your eyes baby.” She licks her bottom lip before nodding slightly, her eyes fluttering shut. Tara quickly takes the box out of her pocket and gets down on one knee. “Okay, open.”

Emily opens her right eye before her left. Expecting to see her girlfriend still standing in front of her, she’s slightly confused until her gaze drops to the woman kneeling on the floor. Her eyes immediately widen, tears slowly start welling in her eyes.

“Is this –“ She starts before Tara interrupts her.

“Yes.” It takes Emily a split second for her brain to catch up with her eyes, but she immediately tackles Tara to the ground, kissing her wherever she could reach. Laughing Tara asks. “I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

“Do you wanna get off of me so I can put it on your finger? Or even ask properly?” Emily flushes slightly, before righting both of them and their clothing.

“Okay. Shoot.” Emily bites back a smirk and wipes off some lipstick from Tara’s cheek.

“Emily Prentiss, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” Emily whispers out. Both of their hands are shaking as Tara slides the ring onto her finger. Before they could even kiss in celebration, the doorbell rang.

“Penelope’s here with the car.”

“I’ll open the door.” Emily took one last glance at the ring on her finger before asking over her shoulder. “How long before you think she’ll notice?” She doesn’t give Tara a chance to respond before an earsplitting shriek is heard as soon as the door opens.

“Not long at all.” Tara mutters to herself, before making her way to the front door so her fiancé doesn’t have to be the only one to deal with a very excited Penelope Garcia.

#prompts #prompt writing #temily #emily prentiss #tara lewis #temily fanfic #emily prentiss x tara lewis #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

Text

We have learned that Autumn Durald will serve as the cinematographer on Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, replacing director Ryan Coogler’s long-time collaborator Rachel Morrison who shot the first film.

Autumn Durald most recently served as the cinematographer on all 6 episodes of Loki, and has received high praise from fans and critics alike for her fantastic visuals on the series so far. Michael Waldron serves as the head writer on Loki with Kate Herron directing all 6 episodes. Tom Hiddleston, Sophia Di Martino, Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Wunmi Mosaku, Richard E. Grant, and Tara Strong all star in the series that will release its final two episodes every Wednesday until July 14.

Autumn Durald is also known for collaborating with Gia Coppola, shooting her directorial debut Palo Alto as well as her most recent film, Mainstream. Durald’s other cinematography credits include Emma Forrest’s Untogether, Max Minghella’s Teen Spirit, and Ry Russo-Young’s The Sun Is Also A Star. She has also shot various music videos from high profile artists such as SZA, The Weeknd, and Travis Scott.

Autumn Durald takes over for Rachel Morrison, who reunited with Ryan Coogler on Black Panther after shooting his feature debut, Fruitvale Station. Morrison was seemingly set to return as the cinematographer for Wakanda Forever, however, scheduling conflicts with her upcoming directorial debut Flint Strong seemed to have made that reality an impossibility. In an interview earlier last year, Morrison already mentioned how COVID-19 delaying production on Flint Strong could result in her not being able to commit to the Black Panther sequel, she says “If we had gone back in September, I think we could make it, but now it’s a bit of a moment of truth for everyone to realize if my movie is definitely going back in January that I probably won’t be able to do [Wakanda Forever] which is devastating to me.”

It has been previously reported that the production team behind Black Panther: Wakanda Forever could be significantly different from the previous entry with the rumored addition of Queen of Katwe and Guava Island costume designer Mobolaji Dawodu, rather than Ruth E. Carter who won a long- overdue Academy Award for Best Costume Design on the first film. That being said, Hannah Beachler, who won an Academy Award for Best Production Design on the first Black Panther, is said to be returning for the sequel.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever just begun production this week, with Letitia Wright, Angela Bassett, Winston Duke, Lupita Nyong’o, Danai Gurira, and Martin Freeman all set to reprise their respective roles. Tenoch Huerta has been cast in the sequel, his recent credits include Narcos: Mexico and The Forever Purge, which releases later this week. It was also reported earlier this month by The Illuminerdi that Huerta will be taking on the pivotal role of Namor the Submariner in the sequel, the rest of the new cast additions are currently unknown.

Kevin Feige and Ryan Coogler have confirmed that they will not recast the role of T’Challa in the tragic passing of Chadwick Boseman following a private, four-year battle with colon cancer. Coogler recently talked with The Hollywood Reporter about moving forward with developing the Black Panther sequel without Chadwick Boseman, “You’ve got to keep going when you lose loved ones. I know Chad wouldn’t have wanted us to stop. He was somebody who was so about the collective. ‘Black Panther’, that was his movie. He was hired to play that role before anybody else was even thought of, before I was hired, before any of the actresses were hired. On that set, he was all about everybody else. Even though he was going through what he was going through, he was checking in on them, making sure they were good. If we cut his coverage, he would stick around and read lines off camera [to help other actors with their performances]. So it would be harder for me to stop. Truthfully. I’d feel him yelling at me, like, ‘What are you doing?’ So you keep going.”

At the Black Widow world premiere fan event earlier this week, Kevin Feige spoke about the commencement of production on Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, saying “It’s clearly very emotional without Chad. But everyone is also very excited to bring the world of Wakanda back to the public and back to the fans. We’re going to do it in a way that would make Chad proud.”

Ryan Coogler returns as director for Black Panther: Wakanda Forever and has also signed a 5-year exclusive television deal through his production company, Proximity Media, to develop a range of television projects for Disney’s various networks and streaming outlets including ABC, Hulu, and Disney+. One of these projects includes an untitled Wakanda series for Disney+ which Coogler said that they “are especially excited that we will be taking our first leap with Kevin Feige, Louis D’Esposito, Victoria Alonso and their partners at Marvel Studios where we will be working closely with them on select MCU shows for Disney+.”

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever releases in theaters July 8, 2022

#Autumn Durald Arkapaw #Loki #black panther: wakanda forever

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wylanvnneck · 4 years

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This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.”

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue.

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now.

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use.

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’.

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks.

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?”

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.”

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?”

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.”

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds.

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?”

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant.

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.”

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him.

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake.

“Deal.”

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture.

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.

“Going somewhere, partner?”

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas.

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour.

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him.

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously.

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?”

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.”

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

“And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?”

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension.

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats.

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground.

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion.

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty.

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other.

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

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If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist💕

#anyways Liles I hope you enjoyed!#dd writes #secretsnusband #tfota fanfic #the folk of the air fanfiction #the folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #castle #cop au #enemies to lovers #i would also like to say #that i absolutely love vivienne duarte #but she was also badass enough to make a murderer #and i couldn't resist #hopefully this first part was intriguing #and the second part is cheesy in all the right ways #jurdannet #jurdannet revels

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mldrgrl · 4 years

Note

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot. Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year. He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event. And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years. He can’t even remember the last time he saw her. He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born. Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays. It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend. He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister. He truly does. He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made. Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him. He would never. He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas. And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up. One that implores him to please behave. His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is. He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her. It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her. Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder. He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy. “As you can see. Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!? And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken. He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat. Both his boys are soft, like their mother. He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them. A regular mother lion. He doesn’t get it. When he was a kid, he idolized his father. Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best. He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it. His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says. “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story. She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa. She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father. She sasses. She rolls her eyes already. She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants. She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers. Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says. “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says. He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him. They seem to hold some silent conversation. To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house. He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk. Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations. Dana nods and smiles through most of it. Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap. Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says. “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says. Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in. She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos. “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.” Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her. “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is. You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart. Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial. Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says. She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail. “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know. Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother. Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look. “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces. “Daddy in trouble. Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty. And so are you. Get down.” Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed. “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure. Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No. Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?” She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door. “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason. You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was. Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention. His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks. “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball. They should be playing a real sport like football. The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears. Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window. There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling. They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy. “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.” He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own. “That’s it. Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells. “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder. He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks. Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.” This is news to Bill and he’s surprised. Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school. You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says. “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects. “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means. He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth. He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it. He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says. “She’s a great doctor. But, you know what? Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says. “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity. Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes. “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch. Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says. “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm. “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says. “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen. Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder. “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside. Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket. He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games. Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No. We won all four years I was there though. Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully. It makes no goddamn sense. “1957,” he answers. “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods. The conversation stalls. Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens. Bill turns and sees his sister in the window. She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says. “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says. Dana stands close to him. He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence. A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet. Bill shoves his hands in his pockets. Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers. He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably. He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says. Straight to the point. His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here. You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table. I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably. “That’s between them. Charles is…”

“Charlie is married. His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick. I know. I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod. “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps. Be just like Dad. Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids. Everything in ship-shape order. They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts. “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill. He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly. Where was he? Not with his family. You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what? Step away from the Navy? Reject a deployment order? What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly. “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected. Tara understood that when she married me. The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom? Dad’s namesake, Dana. My namesake. How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses. “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder. Named after Mulder’s father. Not you, and not Dad. And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice. None at all.”

“Then why did you do it? If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth. She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum. He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks. “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old? Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him? Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him? Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son? Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever? Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy. He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult. She’s like fire. Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says. “How could I? Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous. “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana? Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family. A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today. You’re right. It is me that doesn’t want to be here.” She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone. He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different. He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation. Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her. She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room. The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction. Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation. He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed. Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says. “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.

“What is it?” his mother asks. “Do you need to lie down? You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner. I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says. “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together. He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either. The hugs goodbye are awkward. The kids are confused.

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him. “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber. His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose. Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs. “Mom, stop. Tara and I will take care of the dishes. Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved. Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room. After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender. “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits. “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.” Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen. It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her. She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara. I can’t. She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls. “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two. I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true. He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter. He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room. The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father. “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son. We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do. Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive. Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long. They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year. They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old. And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.” Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby. He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers. “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”

“I want to hear it,” Michael says. “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young. My Dad had taught us. She was the best out of all of us, even Dad. She just never missed. Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them. They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew. Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target. She whipped those boys good. Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day. He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger. He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys. Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win. She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause. He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says. “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says. He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa. Dana was a real tomboy. She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago. But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now? Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm. She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet. He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church. Good for her, he thinks. Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family. He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says. “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says. “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror. “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me. Not ever, alright? You can come to me with anything. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome. That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

“Cool,” Matthew says. “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate. It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars. Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks. “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun. He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting. Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light. When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate. Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard. “What’re you doing out here? Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh. Okay. Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.” Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate. “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight. He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand. “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers. “I think there might have been horses here at one time. There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out. Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says. He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him. Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael. Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill. It’s cozy, almost cabin-like. There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner. They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going. His sister is wearing slippers.

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill. “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.” There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister. “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers. “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods. Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment. The boys cheer. Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says. “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things. I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined. Her eyes water a bit. She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet. “Thank you,” she says. “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly. “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you. I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have. Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.” He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little. “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us. They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow. Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says. “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment. “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long. I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people. Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid. Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.” Bill chuckles. Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that. I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow? The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks. She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest. She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little. “I can’t imagine, Dana. What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes. Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says. “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything. Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no. That’s her son. I would never. The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem. I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas. I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender. Dana opens the door and he follows. The boys are laughing at something. Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms. He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends. “We only caught half of him. The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs. Bill sighs.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #bill scully #I never imagined I would have to get into this dudes head #perplexistan

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audreyxmoon · 4 years

Text

i’d do anything for you

gif by @spencexreidimagine

warnings: kidnapping, guns, assault, things go downhill pretty quick, torture, angst

You weren’t a flirt, okay, maybe you were a little. But you couldn’t help yourself! Everyone has a hamartia, and that was yours. You really couldn’t help yourself. You tucked your hair behind you ear as you made coffee with Reid in the BAU kitchen. He began pouring in his usual amount of sugar and almost stopped when he met your judgemental gaze.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ You say lightly, sipping your coffee.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Why so much sugar Doc? Some would say that’s bad for you.’ You reply.

Spencer rolled his eyes. ‘Some of us like it sweet.’

‘Like it sweet hey?’ You ask, making him blush. The ends of his lips quirked up as he looked down at his sneakers.

‘If you’re missing some sugar in your life i’ve got some to spare.’ You say with a wink, making Reid turn even more red if that was possible. ‘Speaking of...’ You say, touching Garcia’s shoulder and pulling her in.

‘Here’s the sweetest person on the floor.’

‘See ya Reid.’ You say with a little wave before sashaying over to your desk to talk to Luke who wanted to discuss a case, not before you whispered in his ear something which made both of you laugh and look over at a virtually glowing Reid.

‘You can’t keep teasing him like this Y/N. You’ll drive the poor guy insane.’

‘Luke- I’m just having fun.’ You whined. ‘Look he’s... fine?’ You say looking back over at Reid, who in an attempt to act cool had somehow managed to knock over the sugar and was furiously trying to clean up the mess.

‘Look at boy wonder! He’s losing it.’ Luke whispered in surprise.

Prentiss made her way over to you two. ‘We’ve got a case. Wheels up in thirty, I’ll brief you on the plane.’

...

You and the team had settled in at the local police station and Prentiss had left you and Reid to work on the geographical profile. Reid had been avoiding you since this morning’s incident and you almost... missed him? You felt his presence behind you and you turned around to see him standing close to you.

‘Uh- Y/N could you please ask one of the officers if there are any popular party sites near by?’

‘Sure.’ You say tentatively, squeezing past him to reach the door. ‘Want anything from the office?’ You ask.

‘No thanks.’ He said with a smile. You couldn’t help but think he was trying to get rid of you.

You found an officer sitting at his desk.

‘Um, officer... Holder, hi! I was wondering if there are any common party sites around here? I’m SSA Y/N by the way.’ You sat up on his desk.

‘Yes, in-fact I know a few.’

You put your map down on the table and let Officer Holder circle the locations.

‘Thank you so much Officer Holder!’ You said gratefully.

‘Please, just call me Ben.’

‘Well thank you Ben.’ You restated. ‘I love your necklace by the way.’ You say, catching the gold glimmering lightly around his neck.

‘Oh, thank you.’ Ben stammered. ‘You can touch it if you’d like.’ He said holding it up to the light. You saw there was a neat tag with his name engraved attached. You delicately played with the chain, bringing your face close to his. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

He smiled. ‘You free for drinks after work?’ He asked.

You jumped down from the table where you were intercepted by Reid who threw his arm over your shoulders, which was a lot more contact than you were used too. However, you felt yourself relax into his touch.

‘We don’t drink on the job Officer.’ Spencer said with more ferocity in his tone that usual.

‘C’mon Y/N I’ve made progress on the profile.’ he said, steering you away.

‘What was that about?’ You giggle once you’re both back in the conference room and Reid had let go of you.

‘Did you see the way that cop was looking at you?’ He hissed.

‘Was it like how you’re looking at me now? Because that’s kinda hot.’ You joke, cocking your head. But Spencer’s being completely serious when he pushes you up against the wall, hands by either side of your head.

‘Will you come get drinks with me tonight?’ He asked gruffly.

‘I thought you said, we don’t drink on the job officer? And I’m not even the one with the eidetic memory.’ You lean in closer so you and Spence’s nose’s are almost touching. Luke burst through the conference room doors causing you and Reid to quickly pull away, Spencer almost tripping in his urgency to escape. Luke spun around wordlessly closing the door behind him. He re-entered seconds later.

‘Hi guys. Tara and I are back from the morgue.’ He said letting Tara in.

‘The unsub is killing low risk victims who are highly intoxicated.’ Tara added, glancing at you and Reid with raised eyebrows. Prentiss and JJ came back from the crime scene just as Rossi and Matt finished interviewing the victim’s family.

‘Okay guys.’ Prentiss began. ‘Garcia has narrowed down the local bars in the Unsub’s hunting zone. I’ve decided we need to send an agent in undercover.’ She looked over at you. ‘Y/N? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’ She reassured.

‘Of course I can.’ You say confidently. ‘Whatever it takes to catch this son-unsub.’ You quickly correct yourself.

‘Spence will be there with you, Luke and Tara will be shadowing you guys from a bit of a distance. Rossi, JJ and I will be outside in an undercover van.’

...

‘See anyone?’ JJ asks into your ear. You shake your head, trying not to glance up at the security camera. ‘Hi!’ Spencer says brightly, approaching you. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Yes please.’ You reply with a smile. The bartender whips up four shots of water. You quickly down them along with a glass of ‘spirits’. Reid doesn’t match you, as you begin to act more and more intoxicated, swaying dangerously, trying to dance with Reid, who hesitantly moves along, acting as the non-complicit boyfriend. You leant into his chest as you danced.

‘Was this your idea of drinks?’ You say with a giggle.

Reid was quiet for a little as the music boomed around you.

‘No, but I don’t mind dancing with you.’ He said gently looping his arms around you. You smiled, looking up at him.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He confirmed smiling back at you.

The purple lights shaded his face so that shadows leaped out of his sharp features making him look like some kind of Greek God. His eyes were so soft that you felt like they were pulling you in. You stood up on your tippy-toes and kissed him. You felt his soft lips canvas yours as he pulled you closer, your hands in his hair. You finally pulled away for air, Spencer looking shocked. ‘I’ll head to the bathroom now.’ He whispered, pulling away, leaving you alone, vulnerable. You knew the unsub would approach you at any time now. You stumbled drunkenly back over to the bar where you requested more ‘shots’. Slumping onto a bar stool you began to drink when a handsome young man approached you, his hands in the pockets of a black hoodie. He sat beside you and ordered a drink. You noted how he didn’t touch it, instead glancing over at you in your sparkly mini dress.

‘How are you little lady?’ He asked, in the belittling manner you had expected from a classic misogynist.

‘I’m fi-ne.’ You slurred with a lopsided smile, looking at him with lidded eyes.

‘Here alone?’ He asked, stirring his drink with the mini umbrella.

‘My boyfriend’s in the bathroom.’ You reply, taking another sip from your drink. The man grabs your thigh holding you in place. You almost jumped, forgetting you were supposed to be drunk for a moment.

‘I think I’m going to go have a smoke.’ You say, using the prearranged code word and trying to slip out his grasp.

‘Hey. Don’t move.’ Something bulged in his pocket. ‘I know you Agent Y/L/N.’ He spat. ‘You were on the news, a couple of years ago. And if you don’t do as I say you’ll be on the news for a different reason.’

‘Hey. You’re surrounded. What are you gonna do? Kill me then be killed?’ You ask.

‘Wrong.’ He says smugly, pulling you into his chest so you shielded him from Luke and Tara who had drawn their weapons while ushering everyone outside.

‘I’m not willing to negotiate. Let me and Agent Y/L/N and I leave the premises or I shoot her.’

Luke and Tara looked to each other, unsure how to proceed. Suddenly, there was a gunshot in the bathroom.

‘Reid!’ You scream. Tara nods at Luke who rushes inside the bathroom, leaving you Tara and the unsub alone. JJ enters behind Tara, her gun in its holster. ‘Thomas Jacobs, let Y/N go. This can’t end well for you unless you do.’

Thomas begins dragging you towards the back exit. ‘So long team.’ He says with a smile. The door is pushed open by another man who is also holding a gun which is aimed at the team. You hadn’t profiled a partner, it didn’t make sense at all. Nothing in the profile suggested an accomplice. You were thrown into the back of a van which careened away, sirens following closely behind. The van stopped and you almost cried as you heard sirens continue past you. The doors opened again, and you were faced with the unsub and his partner.

‘I did what you asked.’ Thomas growled.

‘Tie her up.’ The partner demanded. Thomas complied.

‘Now put her in the back of the van.’ Thomas dragged you over the the back of a van where he roughly threw you in, locking you into the darkness. There was a gunshot outside, and you grimaced.

‘Y/N?’ A weak voice asked.

You squinted into the darkness making out the silhouette of a man slouched in the back of the van.

‘Spence?’ You ask. You scrabble over to him. ‘Are you okay?’

He nods. ‘They- injected me with something.’ He said with panic.

‘It’s okay Reid. You’re awake now.’ You try and reassure him. You can hear his breathing pick up. You desperately want to hug him, but your arms are tied back so you just lean against him as the van wobbles and shakes.

‘Breathe with me please?’ You request, taking slow deep breaths.

You breath peacefully together. The van stops and you turn to face Spencer as the doors open, and you’re pulled away. You struggle in your captor’s arms but your restricted movement makes it impossible to escape.

‘Y/N!’ Reid yells from the van before he’s pulled out and thrown down next to you. The unsub pulls out two chairs and seats you in them, laughing cruelly when you try and bite him. ‘It seems someone wants to speak to you.’ The unsub says, walking away. You look around the warehouse, looking for a way to escape until another man walks into the room.

‘Hello agents.’ He snarls.

You both stare at him blankly.

‘You’re here because your team took someone from me.’

You laugh. ‘You might have to be a little more specific.’

He turns to face you, his face twisted with rage. He storms towards you.

‘Specific?’ He grabs your face roughly so you’re forced to look up at him.

‘Get your hands off her.’ Reid seethes, thrashing in his seat.

‘I hope your team remembers my brother, Mr Scratch? You’re the reason why he’s dead.’

‘Mr Scratch didn’t have a brother.’ You say, looking into Reid’s eyes, watching as his hands fiddled with the knot behind him.

‘Not by blood.’ The unsub said. ‘I’m here to finish what Peter started. Now where is Hotchner.’

‘I don’t know.’ You say honestly.

‘Oh I know you don’t.’ The unsub replied. ‘But he does.’ He gestured at Reid, pulling his revolver out from his pocket. He emptied out every bullet but one, and aimed it at your head.

‘Tell me where agent Hotchner is.’ He demanded, facing Reid.

‘Don’t!’ You say, earning a blow to the head which left you reeling.

‘You touch her again I will kill you.’ Reid’s tone is lower than you’ve ever heard it.

The unsub just laughed. ‘Would you take a bullet for Doctor Reid?’ He asked.

‘I’d do anything for you.’ You say, looking directly at Reid as the unsub pulls the trigger. You don’t even flinch. Reid nods at you, and you flip yourself, chair and all, into the unsub knocking him to the floor. Reid, who had been untying himself the entire time, ran over, holding the unsub down and tying him up with his own rope. Reid quickly untied you and reloaded his gun, aiming it at his head.

‘Reid.’ You whisper. ‘Don’t do this.’

His hands shook as he looked over at you. ‘I don’t know if I can.’ He said. You stepped in front of him, holding his hand in yours, looking up into his eyes.

‘Spence.’ Your voice shook. ‘You’ll never forgive yourself.’

He turned off the safety.

‘I’ll never forgive you.’

He lowered the gun. You grabbed him, holding him close to you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sobbed into your shoulder. Your tears were smothered by his vest. The locked warehouse door burst open as SWAT and the BAU entered, the team heading straight to you and Reid. ‘Are you okay?’ Prentiss asked as Matt yelled for the Medics to come over. You nodded, you and Reid hesitantly moving apart. The medics worked on the cut on your head, but the whole time your eyes never left Reid. You tried to convince yourself that the infatuation building inside of you was just the trauma, but deep down you knew you had loved him ever since you had met him on your first day at the BAU.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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tellerford13 · 3 years

Photo

MO ASTOR CHAPTER 44

Disclaimer We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.”

The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC

We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us.

A/N: AND. WE’RE. BACK! We appreciate your patience, heading into the show require a wee bit more work on our end as well as dealing with some hard hits from the real world. All that being said, we’re hoping to be able to stick to our weekly postings. So HERE WE GO! MO CHAPTER 44

Jax

“Girls are still at yer old house,” Chibs explains, blowing smoke out from his cigarette.

“I’ll relieve the prospect after I stop by the hospital.”

“Going to see the lad?”

I wince under his censure. Chibs doesn’t have to say a word to get his point across.

Everything that needs to be said is visible in his eyes.

“Naw. Gonna set his mother straight.”

Chibs grunts.

“What?” I snap.

“I didnae say a word.” He shakes his head, takin a deep inhale.

“Yeah, ya don’t have to,” I mutter, spinning on my heels and taking off.

Clay’s just got finished giving me shit about Mom telling him I hadn’t seen Abel.

No one stops to consider it might be too much for me.

I’ve gotten so used to people leaving, I keep them at a distance.

I also have a lot of shit on my plate, and I can’t afford to drop the ball.

They want me to put the club first but don’t stop to look at what the cost might look like. I’d rather be dealing with the fucking Mayans than this family guilt trip shit.

Clay attempting to keep me in line by holding Abel’s hospital bills in my face was a low blow. But I’ve come to expect that shit from him.

There’s not enough time in the world to stop me from being furious with Wendy when I reach St. Thomas.

I’m glad Tara is nowhere to be seen.

I got my hands full with one crazy ex.

Wendy looks like death warmed over.

Ratty bleached out blonde hair, sallow skin, and dark circles that lend to her skeleton impression. What the fuck did I ever see in her?

Another lost soul who needed an anchor, so she didn’t drift off the deep end.

It worked for a time.

I should’ve ended it when it stopped, and she relapsed the second time, instead of ignoring her like she’d go away on her own.

She looks up and starts to cry when she sees me.

Stepping in, I ignore her hysterics.

I’ve grown immune to them.

“You need to get help, Wendy,” I say, trying to soften the irritation in my tone.

“I know, I know— But it’s not what you think. I was doing so good, Jax. I love my baby. Even with us being fucked up.” She shakes her head, wiping at imaginary tears.

“So the meth fairy shot you up?”

She looks down at the bed, and I tense.

Her lack of eye contact’s always been a tell-tail sign she’s hiding shit from me.

“Start talking now, Wendy.” I growl.

“I thought he loved me. That he didn’t care I was having your baby. I was wrong. All he wanted to talk about was you and the club. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t.” She shakes her head, speaking as if she’d forgotten I was even there.

Walking over, I grip her bedrail to keep from gripping her arms and shaking the answers out of her.

“And.” I ground out.

“He forced me to shoot up Jax! H-He Said I was going to tell one way or the other!”

Well for Fuck’s sake!

“Son of a bitch. What did you say to him, Wendy?”

She shakes her head.

“I- I don’t know. The doctor said Abel’s getting stronger. He said maybe they would fix his belly. Maybe tomorrow morning.” I shake my head at her attempt to change the topic.

Now I have to worry about what the Nords know on top of everything else.

“They’ll do everything they can.”

I won’t hope. That’s a dangerous thing I can’t afford to do right now.

“My lawyer said they might file criminal charges. Fetal abuse. I got stuff back at the house in the stash drawer.”

“Jesus Christ.” I scoff, shaking my head.

It never ends with this bitch.

“You expect me to bring it to you so you can get high too?” I growl.

“No, I told you…” She whines.

“I didn’t even want to do it, Jax. You have to believe me. Just if they find that shit, they’re gonna put me away.”

“Might be the only way you’ll get clean,” I state honestly.

Plus, her outta the picture might make all the women in my life a lot happier.

“You own the house, Jax. I’d hate to see this blowback on you.”

The truth of her statement dumps over me like a bucket of cold water.

“Yeah, of course.” I chuckle dryly.

Now there’s another fucking mess I gotta fucking clean up.

It never ends.

Fuck, I need to find the shit before the girls do. I don’t want them anywhere near that shit, let alone touching it.

“Jax, wait. Please, please, Jax!” Her whining falls on deaf ears as I leave the hospital behind and hit the road.

Pulling up into the driveway, I gesture for the grunt to leave as I enter the house that never felt like a home.

I watch briefly as the girls pitch things into garbage bags, spraying and scrubbing down furniture.

It hits me in the heart and the gut.

The three women I love most are here together, doing what they can to make this shit show more tolerable.

I clear my throat. “It’s almost midnight.”

They all stop, startled by my appearance before glancing up at me with tired expressions.

“The place is a goddamn pigsty.” Ma huffs, picking up all the clothes laying around.

“Cleaning was never her strong suit. But it didn’t look like this last time we were here.”

Mom glances over at me.

Sitting on the desk next to the half wall that separates the living room from the wall, I look over at the girls working in the kitchen and dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Mom asks, continuing her almost frantic cleaning.

“It’s my house,” I offer, pulling my riding gloves off.

“No, it’s your property. There’s a big difference,” J corrects walking into the living room with another trash bag.

Lee meets my gaze, studying me with those blue lasers that always see everything I want to hide.

I look away, unable to keep my secret in the face of her worry-filled expression.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to see it this way,” Ma says as she continues to straighten and organize.

It’s her way, always in action to run from her emotions.

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Guilt hits me.

They’re over here cleaning up the mess I made.

My stomach clenches.

“Look, we just want it livable,” Lee says walking into the living room with an empty hamper for the clothes.

Her words should be soothing, but that’s the last thing I want right now.

“I’ll buy some decent carpet. Cigarette burns are everywhere.” Mom mutters, continuing to pick up Wendy’s mess. “Mom.” I try to grab her attention, but she continues to mumble and clean.

“Make this shit-hole a home for your son.”

Something in me snaps at the mention of Abel.

“Mom, For chrissakes, stop cleaning!” I bark.

J steps in front of her.

“Oh hell no. You don’t get to talk to her like that! Not when we’re here helping your ass out. Trying to clean up the fucking trail of mess you left behind. Like always!”

I flinch.

“Jax.” Lee shakes her head.

The disapproval is visible in her blue sapphires.

“He’s not gonna make it.” I let my worries fly out of my mouth.

The girls gasp, circling around me.

Lee grabs my hand, squeezing tight.

“W-What are you talking about?” Mom asks.

“What happened?” Lee and Journee ask in that twin sync way they have.

I exhale and shake my head.

“He was born with half a stomach and a hole in his heart. He’s gonna die—.”

My head is rocked to the left, and my side is on fire from mom’s slap and baby sister’s wicked pinch.

I think the little bitch drew blood and broke the skin.

But it’s Lee letting go of my hand that hurts the most.

“Don’t you say that! You’re the only one this boy’s got! You don’t believe he’s gonna live, you might as well go and kill him yourself.” Mom snaps, glaring at me as she speaks her truth.

Turning from me, she walks over to the table and grabs the joint and lighter sitting in a bowl.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles half-heartedly, lighting up the joint as I make my way towards her, cautiously.

My eyes catch Lee’s disappointed blues.

“You gotta go see him, Jax,” She says gently, stepping towards me.

Even through my pain, I hear Lee’s voice, but I can’t gather the guts yet to do what she’s asking me.

“I can’t.” I admit honestly.

“Why? Because he’ll break your heart? It’s called being a father,” Mom says, after blowing out her deep inhale.

I place my hand up on the half-wall, resting heavily against it.

“For how long? A day? A week?” I spit the words circling around my head out like poison.

Mom sighs, and nods to me to come take a seat with her.

I release my own sigh, and glance back to see the girls going back to cleaning but staying nearby.

Wiping at some crumbs on the table, I sink into the chair, exhausted.

Mom takes another hit from the joint before offering it to me.

I look up at her gratefully, taking a deep inhale as she takes a seat across from me.

“You know, you were born with that same heart defect as your little brother.”

She reaches across the table and gently knocks at my chest.

“You seem pretty sturdy to me.”

Her tone has changed to something a little softer and I can’t help but give her a small smile.

“I came through hell. Landed on my feet…your father was hit by a goddamn semi, dragged 178 yards...and that bastard lived for two more days. Tellers do not die easy.” She says with a proud smirk.

I snort.

“No, we just die bloody.” I say honestly.

I’m not sure that’s better.

“That’s the Irish in us,” Ma says without missing a beat.

The storm ends, and I turn to glance up at the girls.

“I’m sorry.” I mouth the words.

Journee scowls, and Lee shoots me a sad look that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

I need to get out of this moment.

“When you and dad hooked up, he ever talk to you about his vision? About what he wanted from the club?”

The girls look at me, and I nod.

Mom fidgets with the joint in her fingers before shrugging.

“His vision was— you know, what it is. A brotherhood. Family.” She offers me the joint.

“And running guns? He want that?” I keep on her, needing to get to the bottom of how we came to this position.

“He never talked about that. Why?” She eyes me for a moment, before standing from the table.

“I found a box of his old shit in the storage unit. There’s, like, pictures and journals and... Things I never knew about him.” I shrug.

“What kind of things?” Journee asks, pausing her cleaning.

“It seemed like his original idea for the MC was something simpler. You know, social rebellion. He called it a Harley commune. It wasn’t outlaw. It was real hippie shit.” I say with a slight smile.

It’s not hard to imagine my laidback father wanting that.

I take another hit of the joint, watching as Mom sighs and tosses her head slightly.

I can see her brimming with nervous energy.

I know she doesn’t like to talk about dad.

“We had a lot of bright ideas back then. We were kids. Your father became a man. Men take care of business.” She says, but she isn’t looking at me when she speaks.

“Yeah, we do.” I answer, blowing the smoke out of my nose.

“You should get home, Mom. Finish cleaning tomorrow. Lee and I will lock up.” I say as mom turns to look at me while Journee looks from me to Lee.

“You good?” She hugs Lee, who whispers something in her ear.

Mom walks over and frames my face for a moment.

“Night mom.” I say as she bends to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Night baby.” She whispers squeezing my hand before walking past me.

“Hey,” I nod at Mom. “Have her stop by the club. Your old man misses you.” I say, standing from the table.

Baby J steps closer and tugs me down to her.

“Do not fuck this up, Jaxass. Remember everything you have to lose.”

I nod my head.

“I hear you.”

She pats my cheek.

“Good.”

“Ok, darling.” Mom sounds exhausted.

It’s easy to forget sometimes she’s still only human.

“Good night, mom. Night Baby J.”

“Good night, baby.” Ma blows a kiss before grabbing her stuff.

“See you tomorrow, bro. Remember what I said.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Lee. I’m always a call away,” Baby J says, ignoring me as she walks up and kisses her.

I glance over to see Mom’s already out the door.

That’s new.

I guess they’re done giving a shit.

“I love you too, Nee.” Lee calls out.

They walk out, and I go to the drawer Wendy mentioned.

“What are you doing?” Lee asks, following me over to the stash drawer.

“Saving us a whole lot more trouble.” I remove the gun, syringes, and bags of smack.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lee screeches angrily.

“Obviously not mine.” I mumble, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans as I walk over to the bathroom.

“Why are you covering for her? It’s like enabling.” She says as I flush the baggies away.

“Cause it’s my damn house, Harley. Imagine how much the law would love to find that shit and charge me.”

She crosses her arms and nods.

“So, you sweep in and rescue her. She has no consequences?” She follows me back to the living room.

“She’s lying in the hospital half dead right. I’m pretty sure she’s paying.” I snap, turning to look at her.

“So you could go see the Junkie bitch, but not your son?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Explain it to me, then. Cause what I see is the one solid parent Abel has turning their back.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. That kid is going to have more love than most kids get in a lifetime.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make up for an absent father.” She pokes her finger at my chest.

I roll my eyes, fighting back the urge to growl.

“You already labeling me now? Don’t let your past mingle with my future. I’m ain’t like Wally, and you know it.” I swipe her hand away, shaking my head.

“No. But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a junkie mother and a father who couldn’t’ be bothered,’ She whispers.

Her past pain bleeds into her blues, tugging at my heart strings.

Fuck.

I turn back to face her, bending slightly to catch her eyes.

“I get that, but it’s not the same, Lee. I just—my head is spinning, and I need to be grounded before facing him lying there like that, okay? It ain’t about a lack of love.” I run a hand through my hair, blowing out a deep breathe.

“You’re a Father now, Jax. You can’t keep things on the backburner anymore.” She steps forward, and I open my arms.

“I don’t want to fight, babe.” I say sincerely.

“So, let’s not fight.” Her tone doesn’t match her sentence.

I know she wants to keep talking about this and shit it’d be easier if she knew what went down with Wendy, but I’m ain’t about to add gasoline to that fire.

So I’ll keep this close to my chest for now.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, just needing us to be okay.

“Anything, other than ignore him Jackson.” She throws her hands up in the air.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go see Abel tomorrow.” I say, knowing it’ll make her happy.

“Yeah?” She whispers.

Her eyes light up, and I nod.

Fuck she’s got me wrapped around her finger don’t she?

“Yeah.” I swallow my pride and my fear.

I can’t control if I lose my son, but I can keep Lee.

“You’re right. I’ve been putting things on the back burner I should be handling. I want to be the kind of man my father was.” My throat clogs.

“This ain’t it.”

She steps into my arms and I hold her tight.

“I see him in you all the time Jackson. You just need to learn how to channel him and block out all the other bullshit thrown at you.” Wrapping her armss around my waist, she rests her head on my chest.

Inhaling the citrus scent of her hair, I let her ground me.

We’re in a fucking hurricane right now.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep our heads above water.

Tara, Wendy, Abel, Mayans, Nords, it’s all coming at us at once.

I can’t even catch my damn breath.

“Talk to me.” Lee tilts her head up, propping her chin on my chest as she turns those cerulean lasers up to lock onto mine.

Her anger’s faded, but I can see the steely determination in the depths of her electric blue eyes. She expects me to keep my word.

“That’s why I’m here.” She pushes gently.

I don’t even know where to start.

We’re in the middle of a powder keg, ready to explode.

The less she knows, the better.

Once you add her own issues with abandonment into the situation, I know rational thinking goes straight the fuck out the window.

“I don’t want to talk babe. I want to feel something other than worry and stress. I need you, Lee.” I whisper, pressing our lips together.

“Then have me, Jackson.” Her tone is husky but demanding.

She fists my hair and crashes our kiss together again.

I grip her face in my hands and dominate the kiss.

Tilting my head slightly I deepen our kiss and slip my tongue into her mouth, exploring the playground I already have memorized.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I crush her frame against my chest.

The mint of the gum she’s been chewing makes my tongue tingle as the addicting scent of spicy citrus fills my nostrils. Blood rushes to my cock, slowly hardening against her. She pulls back to suck in air, and I move my hands down to her hips. I don’t want her to be even an inch from me right now.

I press forward, moving her back towards the half-wall and the desk.

Lips lock and teeth gnash as our hands work in tandem, stripping each other of our bottoms.

Unbelted and unbuttoned, my jeans drop down my hips, weighted heavily by the items always attached.

I shove down the leggings she’s wearing and lift her up from the ground.

She wraps her knees around my waist as I hold her weight with one arm, clearing the small desk and positioning her against the half-wall.

Her fingers tug at my hair, turning my head to keep our lips connected.

I growl as my hardened cock strains against the confines of my boxers.

Her wet heat sears me through the thin cotton, painting my boxers in her fragrant juices.

“Fuck. you’re so wet, baby.” I groan, grinding against her slick folds.

“Always for you.” She whimpers, reaching into my boxers to pull my cock out.

“Shit.” I hiss as her warm fist wraps around me.

Precum leaks from my tip, and she uses her thumb to smear the sticky liquid down my cock.

“Fuck I love you.” I groan as she pumps me before lining me up with her hot entrance.

“Fuck me, Jackson. Claim me as yours.” The neediness in her tone causes the beast inside me to roar to life.

“Mine,” I growl, thrusting into her without warning.

She gasps, arching her back.

I bend down, sucking the skin of her neck into my mouth.

She whimpers, turning her head to the side to allow me more access.

I stay still, basking in being completely surrounded by her and losing myself in the taste of her skin.

I suck harder, wanting to leave my mark and let everyone know she’s claimed.

“Jackson.” She gasps, clenching her muscles around my cock.

I groan at how fucking tight she feels.

Biting her neck, she whines and rolls her hips towards me.

I slide back just slightly, desperate to remain inside her for as long as possible.

I roll my hips instead of sliding out.

“O-oh.” She moans, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me closer to her.

The wood creaks with the movement, and my hands move to her thighs to support her weight.

“You feel so fucking, good baby.” Lee moans as I continue to rotate my hips inside her.

I mix it up with a rhythmic back and forth but never out of her.

This is my pussy, and the only people allowed to play in here are J. Tellers.

The quick flash image of my baby sister making my girl come has me groaning loudly and thrusting deeper.

“Fuck baby, just like that!” She cries out, clenching around me.

Her back arches, and her body trembles.

“Shit, Jackson, I’m close—so fucking close.” She gasps, rocking her hips towards me erratically.

My cock grows impossibly hard as I near mine.

I bite at her collarbone, leaving my marks all over her neck.

No one will ever doubt this woman is claimed and claimed fucking well.

“I’m yours, baby,” I whisper against her lips, letting her know this claiming goes both ways.

“And you’re fucking mine.” I hiss, rotating my hips so my cock can hit that spot inside her that makes her shatter.

“YES!” She cries out, fingernails digging into the back of my neck as her pussy locks down on me like a fucking vice.

“Fuck.” I groan, falling headfirst into my own release and shooting my hot load deep inside her.

She hugs me close as I rest my weight on my forearms against the wall, trapping her between them and struggling to catch my breath.

Lifting my head, our eyes lock, and I’m lost in the soft glow of her electric blues.

“I love you so much, Harley,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips before I slowly ease out of her.

“Mmm, love you too.” She mumbles against my lips.

“I’ll love you even more if you get me a towel.” She blinks up at me with hazy eyes and a satisfied smile.

I bend down to pull my boxers and jeans back up.

Shit, the thought of my cum swimming around inside her could make me hard again.

I know she’s got that thing in her arm, but damn if I don’t love knowing she’s marked by me, inside out.

“Leave it,” I whisper, smirking as I help her stand.

Her eyes widen, shocked by my request.

“Really?” She asks as I drop to my knees to pull her leggings back up her legs for her.

I nod, standing back to my feet and pulling her close.

“You told me to claim you. Nothing says claimed like my seed swimming around inside you.” I slip my hand down the front of her leggings and cup her pussy.

The heat radiating through the thin, wet material has me biting my lip.

She whimpers.

“And what about you, Jackson?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Are you claimed?” She asks, confusing me with her line of questioning.

“You tell me?” I ask, tucking some loose strands from her messy bun back behind her ear.

“I thought so…” She runs her knuckles down my cheek gently.

Suddenly she’s pinching my chin tightly, tilting my head down to meet her gaze.

“But then I see, Tara Fucking Knowles is in town, and you don’t look all that shocked to see her.” The fury flames in her eyes once more.

Fuck. Shoulda known the calm would only last a few minutes.

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Shit. We really talking ‘bout this now?” I ask, stepping back.

“Fuck yes we’re talking about this! Why didn’t you fucking tell me, Jackson! I do not like being blindsided!” She pushes at my chest and steps away from me.

“How long have you fucking known? How long did you plan on keeping it from me? And why, why the hell didn’t you fucking tell me!” She pushes at my chest again.

“Lee, I’m sorry, aight? I was gonna tell you the other night when we went out for our ride, but then the Mayans blew up the warehouse, and Wendy ODing threw us right into the middle of it before I had a chance.”

I step towards her cautiously, slowly moving to grab her hands.

“I only found out that morning. I just wanted to get some us time in before I told you-“ I begin.

“Why?” She asks in a defensive tone, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Cause I know how you feel ‘bout Tara, and I just wanted us to be solid-“

She slides her hands out from mine and steps back.

Something deep inside growls at the thought of her stepping away from me.

“Why wouldn’t we be solid, Jackson? Should I be worried we’re not solid now that SHE’s back?” I can hear the accusations in her tone, and I don’t like it one damn bit.

“Nah Fuck that, Harley. Her being back don’t change shit ‘bout us.” I step to her, gripping her hips in my hands tightly.

“I think I just fucking proved that,” I growl, nodding towards the clatter of shit on the floor from our early escapade.

“You think I’m going to accept the scraps you used to give other women? Takes more than a quick fuck against a wall to make me feel secure.”

“Don’t say shit like that when you know it ain’t fucking true!” I yell before I can catch myself.

Her eyes widen, but I don’t see an ounce of fear in them.

“I fucking love you, Harley Grazer! Tara ain’t nothing to me but an old ghost, you fucking hear me!” My fingers grip her hips so she can’t step back from me again.

“That bitch is the past. You and I are headed towards a future. I ain’t gonna let that gash get in the way of that by gettin into your head.”

This is my fault.

I let her pull me from my girls and my family once before.

But I’m gonna make it damn clear it ain’t happening again.

I struggle to calm myself.

I can’t blame her for being cautious.

I release a shaky breath, trying to force some sanity back into my brain before I start to demolish the whole fucking house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My plan was to tell you after our ride before everything went to shit. I only found out that morning.” I loosen my grip on her hips but still hold her to me.

She’s holding tense but not trying to stepping back.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face when she continues to glare at me.

“I mean it, Harley. I’m sorry I let that shit get away from me, but I need you to trust me when I say I got no love left for her. S’far as I’m concerned, she’s my son’s doctor, that’s it.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me.

My heart clinches when she remains stiff and doesn’t melt against me the way she usually does. “Can we be okay now?” I ask, desperate for things to be right between us.

I can’t fucking handle one more damn thing right now.

Her fingers fist my hair as she tugs my hair back slightly to grab my attention.

“Don’t keep shit like that from me anymore, and we’ll always be okay, Jackson.”

My stomach knots as I think about the bombshell Wendy dropped on me in the hospital.

I should tell Lee, but I don’t know if I have the fucking energy to go through another argument right now.

I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, squeezing her to me as I collapse against her for a moment.

One thing at a time.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jax Teller #chibs telford #Mo Astor #MoMondays

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titularkilljoy · 4 years

Text

nameless, faceless.

Summary: These days, he starts to think he might not be Tobias, but he’s not much of a Spencer either. Gen-fic following a newly exonerated Spencer Reid.

Content Warnings: Drug use, angst, slight references to gun violence and physical abuse.

Thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who listened to me rant about this messy fic for weeks on end, and for being the first to read it.

Spencer Reid is an excellent shot. A perfect shot. He can take apart and put together his service weapon with his eyes closed. He’s tried, and succeeded. Thrice, because once might be a fluke, twice might be a freak coincidence, but the third success counts as scientific proof.

Years ago, Aaron Hotchner tried, unsuccessfully, to help him pass his firearms qualification. Adrenaline was his friend that day. He could have succumbed to the agony of the cobweb-covered boxes in his head creaking open, bit by bit, every time Hotch’s foot knocked the air out of his lungs; or, he could have used his brain and his training and finally done something that would prove people wrong about him. He chose the latter.

One shot, right through Philip Dowd’s skull. In the solemn aftermath of his first kill, Hotch was proud of him. He was proud of himself. That night he went home and allowed the pain in his ribs take control. It felt good. It felt like a victory.

Of course, he knew he didn’t really deserve to wield the weapon. Once was a fluke. Which is why he kept going back to the shooting range every chance he got, until he finally felt a little less like a child, however prodigious, playing dress-up in an FBI vest.

Hotch would be proud of him if he saw the perfect score. But he hasn’t spoken to Hotch in years. The number in his phone has long since gone inactive, and no matter how bad he is at reading social cues, he can hear Hotch’s unspoken request for a clean break loud and clear. He deletes the number.

JJ is careful around him, these days. She’s always been protective of him, but these days she knows he can take care of himself. It’s more like she’s circling him slowly, trying to put her finger on what exactly has made him so different, so maybe she can zoom in on that and fix it and then everything will be back to normal again. He’ll be her nerdy best friend Spencer who once had a desperate crush on her and is still half in love with her but never a real prospect. Spencer. Predictable, quirky Spencer.

He doesn’t quite know how to tell her she’s not going to get her wish, though, so he just ignores her heavy stares pricking his neck when he isn’t looking her way. He ignores the urge to tell her to stop looking so tormented when he’s the one who’s been to hell and back. He knows it isn’t fair, and no matter how off-kilter he feels, he knows he doesn’t want to hurt her.

At the moment he is ignoring her hushed conversation with Will in the kitchen while he sits cross-legged on the floor and helps Henry with his science project. It’s very clear she’s talking about him because he can hear her whisper his name every now and then, and her husband seems to be trying to comfort her. Will has been pleasant to be around since he got out; he will usually just engage him in mundane conversation that surprises him with how calming it is. At the very most, he will offer him a word of support that never feels condescending, and he’s immensely grateful in a way he suspects will always remain unspoken between them.

“Uncle Spencer, look!”

The little primitive robot is moving around successfully, and Henry looks jubilant. He also looks at Spencer with unbridled adoration, and absolutely no one but his godson has ever looked at him like that. It makes something swell inside him and he has to clear his throat.

“Whoa! You did it, Henry. You’re a genius!” he praises with a grin that stretches from ear to ear, picking him and resting him on his shoulders. JJ and Will are watching fondly, and as he meets their eyes, he is relieved that JJ, for once, doesn’t seem to be worried. Why would she be? Right now, he doesn’t feel broken. He just feels happy and loved, and he wishes he can make this moment last forever.

He’s in a cement box and the walls are slate grey and his mind is trapped. There is silence all around him and he feels like he can choke on it. He’s on his back and trying to sleep but his eyes won’t close. His hairs stand permanently on end and there’s a rapid thumping that he decides must be his racing heart. The thumping grows louder and louder; there’s a clang and suddenly he isn’t alone in the grey box anymore. Suddenly there is a flash of too-bright light and several nondescript faces in there with him and the only thing he knows for sure is that they want to hurt him.

There are hands around his chest and hands around his legs and hands twisting his arms behind him and they’re all tightening like a vice and the air is running out but then his eyes adjust to the light and it’s Calvin Shaw in front of him and he looks powerful, and he knows he has to get away, or he’s going to die in here, he’s going to die a murderer, and he fights with all his might and his lungs are spilling out hoarse helpless screams, but then there’s cool metal in his hands and something splashes onto his face.

He cannot afford to stop for a second or he will be done for, so he keeps going, he swings wildly without knowing what he’s doing, over and over and over until the only noises in the box are his own. Shaw is on the ground and so is everyone else and he’s sweating but when he wipes it away and licks it lips it tastes like copper. He jolts, there’s another clang, and he looks down to see a bloody knife has seemingly fallen from his hand. No, no, no, he thinks, he was only fighting to be able to breathe, he didn’t mean to-

But you did, the walls seem to chant and then the walls aren’t walls at all, they’re glimpses of Emily’s deep brown eyes and JJ’s sunshine smile and Rossi’s paternal gaze and Morgan’s brotherly smack on his back, except now they’re all betrayed and afraid and their guns are trained on him, on him, on Spencer, and he keeps telling them he didn’t do it, he swears he didn’t but Nadie Ramos is on the ground and she’s so dead and cold and bloody and the guns are taking aim and-

And then he’s sitting ramrod straight in his bed, sweating profusely, panting and throwing the blankets to the floor. The clock on his nightstand innocuously tells him it is two forty-three a.m. He’s in his apartment. The walls are moss green, there are books everywhere; he tries to calm the pounding in his chest.

He waits for the relief to fill him and lull him back to a restless sleep. It never comes. Instead, all that fills him is shame.

Shame makes him feel small—young, younger than he is, and strips him of the precious shreds of confidence he’s managed to drape over a scared little boy tied to a flag post. There’s bile crawling up his throat and he needs to escape.

What happens next is an out-of-body experience. One moment, he’s sitting on the bed and feeling fourteen. The next, he’s watching himself walk over to the nightstand with purpose and open the locked drawer. Then, there’s a needle sticking out of his arm and he’s on the floor and there’s sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

The reality of what he’s just done hits him all at once. The shame follows immediately after. Then comes the one he can never quite seem to shake.

Self-loathing has been his dogged pursuer all these years, always carefully kept at the peripheries by Gideon’s watchful eye or Hotch’s uncharacteristic words of affection or Morgan’s warm arm slung over his shoulders; this time, he’s all alone. And right now, it is consuming him.

Garcia is more astute than people give her credit for. This much, he’s always known. But he isn’t particularly fond of having her turn that perceptive gaze onto him with laser focus.

Emily and Rossi have decided to give him space, and his further retreat into himself after the night where he slipped doesn’t seem to clue them in to anything he’d rather they never knew. Matt, as a rule, doesn’t pry and doesn’t meddle, and if Spencer is being honest, he really wishes the rest of his team would follow his example. Tara is quiet and observant and besides all that, she has seen him drug-addled and half-confessing to murder before—she might sense that he’s hiding something but he doubts she will go as far as confronting him, since they don’t really talk about things. Luke, on the other hand, is definitely the type to meddle, but he also seems to look up to Spencer a bit, seeming impressed not just with his intellect but also with his track record at the FBI; it’s a nice change.

What he doesn’t expect is for Garcia to keep her keen eye trained on him behind all the emotional speeches and hugs. He definitely doesn’t expect her to show up at his door the day after they’ve returned from a case in Colorado, looking like she means business. He can feel a headache coming on just at the sight of the defiant tilt of her chin.

“Garcia, what are you doing here?” He lets a bit of his annoyance seep into his tone. It’s eleven at night and they’ve been swamped with cases and he could really use this time alone. There’s a small voice in his head taunting for what, but he ruthlessly squashes it down.

“Oh, don’t start that with me, boy wonder,” she warns, ignoring his protests as she pushes past him into the apartment. Sighing internally, he shuts the door and rests his forehead against it for a second. Please let this be over quickly.

Garcia whirls on her heel to face him again, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You have been hiding something, mister,” she begins dramatically, and his heart stops.

“You’re not sleeping, Reid! And you’ve avoided coming out with us every single time we’ve asked. You know how many times we’ve asked since you’ve been back, Reid? Twenty-three!”

She’s pacing now, seeming troubled, and yet he’s the one who feels like a cornered animal.

“You won’t talk to JJ, you won’t talk to Emily, and you won’t talk to me!” Now her eyes are wide and pleading and he startles himself with how little he cares about what she’s feeling right now. He just wants her to leave so he can be alone again.

“You’re not even seeing your therapist!”

“I saw my therapist and I got cleared for duty,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, duh. I know that. I meant the therapist JJ suggested for you after that? The one outside the bureau so you wouldn’t get all concerned about the FBI stealing your emotional secrets?” Her accompanying eyeroll says aren’t you supposed to be a genius? His hackles raise.

“How do you know I’m not seeing that therapist?” His tone is clipped, and of course he knows how she knows. He just wants to see if she’ll admit it.

She falters, but only for a second. “How do I know everything? Do you want me to explain the internet to you?”

“I’m asking why you know.”

“Because we’re all worried about you!”

“So you decided to pry into my personal life?”

“Well what else are we supposed to do if you won’t tell us anything?!”

He wants to lash out at her. He wants to yell about boundaries and that this is his business, not hers or JJ’s or Emily’s, and they should just mind their own. He wants to demand to know why he has to constantly keep proving himself, after all these years. But he sees how that will play out.

Garcia will try to protest for a while, but as his words pierce through her defences, her eyes will shine with hurt and betrayal, and he’ll be too proud to try to fix it. He won’t hear from her for a few days, and then he will hear from them all at once. They’ll confront him and they’ll be so painfully earnest about it, and Emily will likely “suggest” that he take some time off, and he’ll be forced to remember that she’s not just his friend, but also his boss, and her hands will be tied. He foresees spinning off the rails in the absence of something to occupy him. He imagines falling even further from grace; from the FBI’s golden boy to a barely exonerated murder accused, to an unreliable drug addict who’s more of a liability than an asset.

So he tames the impulse and forces himself to look contrite. His head is throbbing now, and he needs to get her out of here as soon as possible.

“You’re right. I’m just going through a lot. I’m not used to feeling so…adrift,” he whispers, running a hand through his hair and gazing at the floor to the left of where Garcia’s bright green shoes are planted. It works; he can feel her resolve crumble. The tension between them eases, and she approaches him like he’s a wounded animal.

“Oh, honey,” she whispers, pulling him into a tight hug, “we’re all here for you. We know how hard you must be struggling, and we want to help you, but you have to let us, okay?” She pulls back, looking him straight in the eyes. “No more trying to handle all of this crap on your own, mister.”

He nods like he knows he’s supposed to.

“Oh, and, and! You have to go to the therapist. No arguments,” she tells him, “You know I’ll know if you don’t end up going.”

He does know. Garcia stays a little while longer, fussing over the mess that is his apartment and his nearly empty refrigerator. She makes him promise to replenish his supplies, before finally leaving with one last hug.

He shuts the door behind her and leans against it. He supposes he should feel bad about so coldly manipulating one of his closest friends, but these days he’s so full of shame anyway that he thinks he’s maxed himself out. Fulfilled his self-hatred quota for a lifetime. Or maybe he just can’t really tell what it is he feels bad for anymore.

He used to wonder if he wasn’t really himself anymore. If Tobias had killed him and brought him back except now there was more Tobias in him than there was Spencer. Then the marks on his arms weren’t visible and he could walk without much of a limp again and the white-hot brand in his mind screaming ‘sinner’ dulled to an orange glow, and he realised he couldn’t possibly be Tobias. Tobias only cared about dilaudid and a twisted sense of morality and judgement and avenging. Spencer wasn’t like that.

These days, though, he starts to think maybe that’s changed. Sure, maybe he isn’t Tobias. But he doubts he’s much of a Spencer either.

He thinks he’s doing pretty well. Handling the drug addiction, he means. He isn’t just getting high every chance he can get and walking into work with telltale sunglasses and trembling hands. He plans it out. He rations out his supply. He also fully intends for it to be a temporary thing.

In retrospect, that was remarkably stupid of him.

It all comes to a head during a case in Denver. It involves, as it usually does, dead women, a frustratingly broad profile, and largely unhelpful local law enforcement.

Spencer is standing in front of a corkboard, peering at a map of the town and meticulously tying a strand of red yarn between the crime scenes and the locations frequented by each of the victims, indicated by slightly rusty dull-green thumbtacks. JJ and Rossi are off in one of the interrogation rooms, speaking to the latest victim’s boyfriend. Luke and Tara are in the field, interviewing a bereaved mother. Across the table, Emily is on the phone with Garcia, poring over a case file.

The door slams open and an officer walks in, carrying two Starbucks cups and wearing a wide, hopeful grin. Emily smiles kindly at him even though there’s a furrow between her eyebrows; this man hardly deserves to have their irritation directed at him.

He quickly realises Officer Cole is either flirting with Emily or flirting with the BAU, and Emily is patiently indulging him. Spencer ignores him for the most part, his mind drawn to a solitary green pin on the periphery that remains hitherto untethered to any other. He glares at it balefully, willing it to fit perfectly into the intricate pattern he’s identified. He pinches the bridge of his nose, mentally scanning the details of the crime scenes and case files. Still staring directly at the pin, he reaches blindly towards the table to grab the red yarn, and then promptly yelps in shock. His eyes jerk over to his dripping left forearm and then up at Officer Cole’s mouth hanging open in horror, trying to stutter out an apology but nothing comes out; he looks like he’s about to cry.

Spencer mumbles something along the lines of “it’s alright” while inspecting his arm. He unbuttons the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt, and after a cursory inspection, concludes that it’s nothing a little running water won’t fix. He gingerly pries the fabric away from his skin, confirming his theory that the skin is unblemished, if a little pink, and makes his way to the restroom. He’s distracted with reassuring Cole to think anything of the way Emily takes one look at his arm and then inspects his face with a strange intensity.

It isn’t until he’s in the room again, ten minutes later, with both his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that it hits him. The air is distinctly chillier now, or maybe it’s Emily’s stare that sends a shiver down his spine. She looks disappointed and furious all at once, and this time he doesn’t have to fake the urge to avoid her eyes. Of course she’d be the one to find out, he thinks. But he supposes, if he’s sloppy enough to slip up so badly, he deserves whatever is coming.

When she makes him book the first flight home and decides he needs to take another two weeks off, he scarcely puts up a fight. When she tells him about her conditions, he nods in resignation. If she listens to what she has to say, she will see how pathetic he really is, and maybe that will be worse. As of now, she only knows the bare bones of what happened to him over a decade ago: she knows of a kidnapping and a resurrection and PTSD, but she doesn’t know of the vials and the meetings and Gideon’s guilt; hopefully, she never will. As he walks out of her makeshift office, he feels the rift between them grow impossibly wider.

The woman smiling cheerfully up at him and offering her assistance from behind the reception desk is unfamiliar. He’s been called a robot so many times he’s stopped counting, but right now he feels exactly like a machine that has come screeching to a halt when confronted with data beyond its knowledge. He stares at her, unable to move, as his mind torments him with all the things that could possibly have gone wrong. He’s faced one too many formidable adversaries to be able to shut off his profiler’s eye, and he scans her head to toe, looking for the slightest hint of deception. She doesn’t seem to be hiding anything but he could be wrong, he’s been wrong, and it nearly cost him everything; what if she can’t be trusted and this time his luck has well and truly run out, what if-

“Doctor Reid?”

The greeting jolts him away from his spiralling thoughts. It still takes him a second to come back to himself, and when he does, he notices his hands are clenched into fists. He’s standing stock still in the lobby of Bennington Sanitarium. The receptionist is staring back at him with a look somewhere between fear and concern, her hand twitching towards the landline on the desk. He realises he must look somewhat threatening; he isn’t used to having that effect on people. But, he supposes, that is the least of the changes the last fifteen years have wrought on him.

“Doctor Reid, are you alright?”

He forces his body to relax, joint by joint, giving the woman as genuine of a smile as he can muster, hoping it will set her at ease. It doesn’t seem to; he can’t quite bring himself to care. The concerned voice is a familiar one, and he turns around to greet his mother’s new caretaker.

“Hi, Ruth. Sorry, I, uh—I had a rough flight,” he manages to say, running a hand through his hair, “how is she?”

Ruth always has a maternal air about her, and right now, she looks like she can see right through his flimsy excuse. She’s about to pry, he knows, and he suddenly feels claustrophobic. He needs to get away.

“Actually, I’m going to get some coffee, I’m a little tired. I’ll come back in a little while.”

Ruth frowns. “Doctor Reid, have you been sleeping?”

“Just fine, thanks. We just had a big case.” The longer this conversation stretches on, the less air there is in his lungs. His own voice sounds far away, like he’s shouting to be heard over the sounds of waves crashing against unmoving rocks.

“I see.”

“I’ll see you later,” he says, sidestepping her to get to the exit.

“Diana is having a bad day.”

The words make him stop short, if only for a moment.

“Ah.” A bad day means his mother doesn’t even know who he is. Trying to job her memory would only confuse and agitate her. He would know. He’s tried.

Ruth isn’t a woman who likes silence. “I’m sure she would still be happy to-“

He forces the muscles of his face to conjure up something resembling a smile in her direction. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just come back another time.”

With that, he pushes past her, taking long strides forward and not stopping until he’s hunched over and sucking in desperate lungsful of the warm night air. He can taste the saturation somewhere in the back of his throat and it almost feels like a home he’s long since left behind. It was stupid to have thought that seeing his mom would give him answers to questions he doesn’t even know how to voice. It’s stupid to think there’s any comfort to be had anywhere, in this new life.

Eventually, he catches his breath and straightens up, beginning to walk aimlessly. There are no stars to be seen above him, but this city could never be quite pitch dark. Vegas is all flashing lights and seductive mystery, and perhaps that’s why so many lost souls end up here. For him, it’s simply familiar; and so little of his life is recognisable these days that he clings to it like a drowning man. That’s probably why this is where he’s chosen to come the day before his mandatory leave is over.

He doesn’t put much thought into where his feet are taking him, until he hears the familiar sounds of whirring machinery and celebratory shouts and sultry jazz music being crooned into a microphone. The air reeks of artifice, but he couldn’t care less. In a few minutes he’ll be raking in victory after victory until someone grows suspicious and he ends up getting kicked out of the casino. He’ll never admit it, but even the inevitable outcome gives him a thrill. This, at least, is a sure gamble. Here, he may be nameless and faceless, but here, he’s also a winner.

Spencer hesitates at the door. He knows he has no choice but to enter, but the thought of being back there is overwhelming. It fills him with a shame he knows he ought not to feel. He reaches into his jacket pocket and his fingers grip the bronze token he almost never leaves at home. The cool metal grounds him somewhat.

Three times this fortnight, he has gotten as far as ten minutes into a meeting before being called away for work. Like the coward he is, he took the easy out and rushed to play Superman, when he’s really not even a half-decent Clark Kent. He is fraying at the edges. He knows himself well enough to be sure that wherever his current path is leading him, it isn’t anywhere good. So he takes a deep breath, and crosses the threshold.

As he takes a seat among the quietly welcoming group of fractured souls, he turns off his phone. Whatever horrors the world outside might need his help to rectify, he knows that leaving this safe haven for them is not an option; not when it would mean allowing the tendril of ice in his chest to spread and consume him and render him permanently useless.

A shadow falls over his hunched form, and he looks up to catch the eye of an old friend.

“John,” he remembers to say.

“Spencer,” the man greets back warmly. He takes the seat next to him. “It’s been a while.”

He hears the real questions: Why did you stop coming to meetings? What happened that led you back here now?

“I- I just figured I needed a reminder.”

The wan smile he directs at the older agent supplies the real answers: I was too proud to believe I needed to be here anymore. Now I’m here because I have no pride left.

That seems to be enough, and John offers a nod and an encouraging smile before he settles back into his seat, turning his attention to the front of the room. There’s a man talking about a messy relapse after a divorce. A woman follows with a pleased announcement that she is two years sober, to which the room responds with enthusiastic applause. As more and more people offer up their stories, Spencer feels his nerves grow increasingly calmer, until he finally musters up the confidence to stand up and walk the short distance himself.

“Hi,” he begins with a small wave, “My name is Spencer, and I’m an addict.”

When he says the word, his entire being sighs in realisation. His mind stretches to accommodate this new piece of previously unacknowledged information, hugging the jagged edges of sharp defensiveness and tired denial that adorn it. There’s an odd sense of calm that comes along with it. He knows now, really knows, and if Spencer Reid knows something, half the battle has been won.

Last time, he never even really slipped. He just held on to the vials like some kind of a sick lifeline. When the nightmares became too intense, he would grip them so hard he actually feared they would break. That was back when he still had a lot of things left to live for, though; a mother, a team, a life that he loved. Now, his mother doesn’t remember him. His team is fractured and each of them is scarred in myriad ways. And his life is more a tragic comedy than the heroic sagas his mother adores. Still, he tries.

Time passes and things are more or less normal.

Emily no longer looks at him with suspicion. He wouldn’t go as far as to say she trusts him again, but she doesn’t distrust him. That’s more than he expected to get, at least.

Garcia is still much nicer to him than he deserves; when she greets him in the morning with a batch of homemade cookies, he wonders, not for the first time, whether she truly doesn’t know what he’s been up to in his spare time. Garcia isn’t the best at keeping secrets, and he’s sure she would have let something slip by now. Rossi still invites him to extravagant dinner parties and he still goes to a few of them and the whole team is there, and it’s still fun and lighthearted and easy. It shouldn’t be this easy.

The more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems that Emily has done him the enormous favour of keeping his secret. No one treats him differently—except JJ, the lengths of whose understanding and patience are tested a little more every time he says no to babysitting Henry; he can’t tell her he needs to be as far away from Henry as possible for the time being, so he makes up flimsy excuses that make the smile on her face look forced and painful. But otherwise, no one asks any pointed questions, and none of the higher-ups are watching him any more closely than usual.

The thought chokes him up. The worst part is that there isn’t much he can do to show his gratitude besides say the words. Which he does, in the quiet of her office after everyone has gone home for the weekend, and tentatively reaches for a hug. She lets him embrace her, and the familiar scent of her shampoo makes some chunk of a wall inside him crumble.

Apart from that, though, all he can do is just—live. There’s no way to make amends as soon as he wants to. The only way to thank Emily is to try not to be such a colossal disaster in the future. Some days, it seems like that’s a feat that is beyond him. Those days, he stays hunched over his desk in the bullpen into the wee hours of the morning, trying to hit that sweet-spot of mindless exhaustion that will have him dead asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

It’s on one such night, a little past midnight, that he’s startled by the sounds of approaching footsteps behind him. He swivels around in his chair and comes face to face with an impassive JJ. He didn’t know she was here. She’s carrying a pile of paperwork and her hair is just slightly disheveled, so he assumes she has been in the records section.

In the dim yellow light, she still looks angelic, and it feels like she holds the weight of his existence in her hands. He just stays perfectly still while she studies him. Neither of them says anything, until she finally seems to make a decision, pulling up a chair, sitting next to him, and silently getting to work.

He stares at her for a few more seconds before returning to the file, and soon the only sounds are the scratching of pens on paper. It’s peaceful, this silence, and he takes it to mean he’s been given a little more time to figure things out.

She still ends up leaving before he does. As she packs up her things, she shoots a few concerned glances his way. She spins on her heel and takes a step before pausing. Then there’s a small pressure on his shoulder as she whispers, “You’re allowed to be happy, Spencer. You know that, right?”

He keeps his eyes trained on the paperwork, but he raises his hand to squeeze hers.

“I’m getting there, I think.”

The cement box is closing in on him. There’s cement in his mouth and Calvin Show is smirking at him and his hand is bleeding, dripping red rivulets of blood onto Nadie’s prone body. Someone is laughing in the distance, and Shaw and his goons join in until the sounds are drowned out by a scream, a desperate, long, agonising scream.

He sits erect with the scream still in his mouth. The immediate sight of his lamplit room makes it fizzle out into shallow, shaky breaths.

Despite himself, his gaze is drawn to his nightstand. He knows he threw the vials away. He knows there’s no temporary solace to be found. But he stares at it anyway.

In a concerted effort to distract himself, he grabs his phone. There’s an overwhelming urge to talk to someone, and he tries to squash it down. The leaky faucet in his bathroom is especially loud.

Plop. Plop. The familiar tension in his temples starts building, and he releases a frustrated groan. The phone in his hand is taunting him.

Plop. Plop. Plop. He gives in and dials a number on reflex, pressing the phone up to his ear as he stands and paces wildly.

“Reid?” The voice is rough with sleep but it’s also alert and so achingly familiar that all he can give in response is a slightly incredulous laugh.

“You picked up,” he says.

“Of course I picked up.” Silence. “Are you alright?”

Another laugh, though this one borders on hysterical. “Yeah. Yeah, Morgan. I’m alright.”

He knows it won’t work, even as he’s saying the words. The man on the other end is still sharp, and still knows him too well.

“I might be wrong, kid, but I don’t call up my best friend at two a.m. when I’m alright,” Morgan tells him gently, with a teasing smile in his voice. It sets him at ease.

He chuckles. “I guess you’re right.”

The silence that follows is expectant, but patient. It makes him want to talk about everything and he knows this is why he has been avoiding Morgan so much; he knows how to get his guard down. Spencer hasn’t really talked to Morgan since he showed up at his front door his first night home after getting out of prison, with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and a face that said no nonsense would be tolerated. Spencer isn’t ashamed to admit he broke down that night, but he is a bit reluctant to repeat the exercise. He knows it’s about to happen.

“I don’t think I’ve really been alright since—since prison,” he finally offers, with an audible swallow.

“That’s to be expected, Reid.”

“I know.” He picks up the three-month token from his nightstand, and squeezes as tightly as he can. “I know, but lately…lately I’ve just been letting everyone down. I’m not…useful anymore.”

“Now that’s just not true, kid,” Morgan chides, uncharacteristically serious, “Listen to me. You went to prison, kid. Let that sink in. That’s not something that just goes away. It takes time, and patience, and no one is going to fault you for that.”

“Morgan, it’s-”

“I’m not done yet, genius,” he retorts, “and you need to understand that your worth isn’t determined by how useful you are in any given situation.”

Spencer snorts. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what ‘worth’ means, Morgan.”

“No, it isn’t.” There isn’t an ounce of levity in the response, and it makes Spencer hold his breath in anticipation. “In this job, it’s easy to think that way. I get it. I’ve felt it too. More times than I can count. But you need to know and believe that you’re not just the job. You’re more than the job. You’re a person. And I think you forget that way too much, kid.”

The breath leaves him in one loud whoosh. He fumbles for words, but he doesn’t have any.

“You mean something, Reid. And a lot of people love you for more than what you have to offer in a case. Get it?”

“Okay,” he whispers, because he knows Morgan will not let him get away with a non-answer or an evasion. The words have thrown him slightly off-balance, in a good way, so he files them away in his mind to retrieve and study and turn over later. He fiddles with the token as he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry I called so late.”

“You know you can call at any time. I’ve been getting too much sleep these days now that Hank isn’t a baby anymore.” His voice is always warm when he talks about his son, and he feels a sudden pang. He misses his best friend.

“It’s hard not having you around.”

“You know you can come over any time. Hank and Savannah miss you too. And I need someone to annoy Savannah more than I do so she’ll cut me some slack.”

The banter is familiar and fond, and after so many years, he knows there’s never any malice in it. He’s always loved the straightforwardness and simplicity that Morgan wears like a badge of honour.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” he replies, smiling.

“Okay, good. Now go to sleep, Einstein.”

“Alright,” he laughs. “And hey, Morgan?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

The call ends with a beep, and this final silence is tranquil. Armed with the knowledge that he truly is not alone, that he might actually survive this and be okay, it’s easier to sleep now. He may never be the same again. He most probably won’t. He may be more Tobias than Spencer some days and some days he may be neither, but it’s still not the terrible fate it once seemed. Maybe, he thinks just before he loses his train of thought, maybe he doesn’t have to be the most useful person in the room. Just for a while, that should be okay.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope #angst #prison spencer #drug use #trauma #character study #gen fic #no pairing

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saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Planning is Everything

***One-Shot*** // Masterlist to other stories

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer x OFC

Summary: With the holidays around the corner, everyone starts making their plans to celebrate with their loved ones. Spencer has trouble making those plans when the one person he wants to plan with doesn't really know about his feelings. Maybe things can change when Penelope unexpectedly brings him to Aitana's house for a full day of Christmas decorations.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @maaaaarveeeeel @anotherunreadblog @stareyedplanet

[If you would like to be added to this OC’s taglist please let me know!]

Pronunciation of the OC’s name sounds like “eye-ta-na”

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The holidays were thought to be the best time of the year. Spencer supposed it was true if you had everybody around for the period. He heard countless plans that everyone at work were making. JJ of course was planning everything around her boys—she and Will were taking them out God knew where but it would be amazing. Emily and Luke had a few of those holiday-themed dates around the city. Matt was the same as JJ: it was all about the kids. Rossi differed in that he only had his wife to worry about. Tara and Penelope seemed to love the Christmas events in the city, they were out together whenever they could.

He...he couldn't find the energy to partake in any of those plans. He would like to but he had other places he would rather be, places he would really rather be.

No one was surprised when it one day slipped from him. They knew exactly who he wanted to spend all these Christmas days with. She was the only one who hadn't figured it out.

Aitana Serrano could be one of their best profilers but when it came to their own Dr. Spencer Reid, she was quite clueless. She really couldn't see it. And it wasn't like Spencer was a master at hiding it either. His skills at hiding his expressions and watching his body language took a dive when she was around. The good thing is that she was always around him anyways. She liked being around him and the reason for that wasn't that hard to figure out. Thankfully, the two had a very good set of friends watching out for them. They were always looking for ways to nudge them a little closer to each other.

And what better time than the holidays?

"Hey," Penelope tapped the back of Spencer's head, startling him out of his thoughts. He had paperwork set in front of him and he thought he would be able to finish them before going home. "I'm stopping by Aitana's tomorrow morning. She's getting her Christmas tree tomorrow and we're going to decorate it."

"Sounds like fun," Spencer smiled at her.

Penelope almost snorted at the little sad puppy smile that it was. "Don't be dumb, Wonder Boy, and come with me."

"What? No, no, Aitana invited you and..." He didn't want to just invite himself over if Aitana didn't even want him there. "It's your plans."

"Please, I doubt she would mind my plus one if it's little ole you," Penelope winked. "We leave by 10!" She wiggled her fingers goodbye as she headed out. Knowing him, he would need the whole night to get into the idea.

Maybe he did.

Spencer knew that Aitana wouldn't be angry, per say, if he dropped by with Penelope but comiing unannounced wasn't his favorite way to do things. In a perfect world, he would've had enough courage, enough creativity, to plan something out for just the two of them. She was a huge Christmas lover and would give anything to be the one who surprised her with the best Christmas-themed date. But those were just wishes. Reality was a whole other thing and he would have to stick with what he had.

And what he had with Aitana was only friendship.

~0~

Aitana was pulling out the branches of her Christmas tree when she heard the expected knocks on her door. "Come in!" she yelled, rather strained as she pulled apart two branches. She was working on the last part of the tree, the very top, and for some reason it was the hardest.

"We're here, we're here!" Penelope bustled into the living room with Spencer, both carrying bags in their hands. "Sorry, bit the snow makes everything and everyone go slower! And I brought a plus one, hope that's okay!" She cast a smirk at Spencer. Even with that confidence she boasted that it would really be alright with Aitana, Spencer still held his breath until Aitana gave the confirmation.

Aitana was standing on a step stool when they met her in the living room. Spencer couldn't think of a better way to start his day when he spotted her. She was entirely focused on a pesky branch. The snowy day outside hadn't interrupted her one bit. Her short curly hair was braided with a green ribbon to adorn it. Her blouse was a bit disheveled from her work but Spencer could still see the adorable little reindeer print it had. He was sure that her pants were only black because she couldn't find a matching set. She always pulled the best things out of her closet. She had good taste for everything.

Aitana beamed when she saw the pair but Penelope thought she was a very smart cookie who knew that said beam was mostly because of her plus one.

"Spencer!" she exclaimed. "Of course it's alright!"

Penelope's smirk on Spencer turned smug in record time. "Thought so."

He flushed. "R-really?"

Aitana was grinning ear to ear. "Yeah! I would have called you but I wasn't sure if you want to come over and decorate a tree...I didn't know if you thought it would be kind of boring."

"No," he said quickly. "Definitely not."

"Perfect! Oh, and I brought the stuff," Penelope gestured to the bags in their hands.

"Oh thanks," Aitana hopped off the steps and came to take them. "I would have gotten them myself but I had to wait for the Christmas tree to be delivered."

"No problem," Penelope said as she handed the bags over. Spencer did the same but it ultimately was too much and they had to bring the bags to the couch instead. Afterwards, both Penelope and Spencer were able to get rid of their heavy jackets. Aitana had her living room as warm and comfy as possible.

"So I set up the branches already," Aitana pulled back a few steps to motion towards the tree. "What do you guys think? I went with an artificial one. It's just easier and saves me a lot of money for years to come." She'd gotten a decent sized frosted tree with pine-cones and berries. "I mean, I know it's still fake but it looks real, doesn't it? The branches and all...?" She stuck the tip of her index nail between her teeth while she waited for the verdict.

"You know back when artificial trees were developed, they were made out of goose feathers dyed green?" Spencer said, figuring it would help her see that her tree looked much better.

On his other side, Penelope was looking at him like he'd lost it. Why would he say that?

Fortunately, Aitana just laughed. "Really?"

He nodded. "And then when they were made in America, the company actually used the same machinery they used to make toilet brushes but they were dyed green too."

Penelope wanted to smack her forehead. He just kept going and going...

Aitana's fingernail came back to her teeth in her nervous antic. "So...is my tree better then?"

Spencer smiled at her. "It's beautiful."

She beamed and clapped her hands together. "Great! So we can start!" She grabbed one of the bags and headed for the tree. She set the bag down on the floor and took a seat in front of it. "I went with the nude colors this year. I thought it would look nice with the whole frost thing I got going on here."

"It'll look wonderful, darling!" Penelope exclaimed then shoved another bag to Spencer, motioning with her head (in a manner that Spencer wondered if it pained her bones) to go to Aitana. She was already busy pulling out all the ornament boxes and mesh ribbons on the floor. When he finally took the bag and went to where Aitana was, Penelope dilly-dallied by the remaining bag. "Oh shoot!"

Aitana looked up from a box she'd been about to open. "What's wrong?"

Penelope was looking at her phone. "Plumbing problem in the apartment. I have to...I have to go, I'm so sorry."

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. "It was fine when I picked you up..."

Penelope's smile was tight, almost snapping at him not to go poking holes into her fabulous explanation. "I can't plan these sort of things, can I?" Spencer's expression said she definitely could and would. "Aitana, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's alright," Aitana stood up from the floor. "Do you want us to take you back—"

"No! I'm good. I would rather see your marvelous tree picture when it's all done! I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind helping you, right?"

Spencer wouldn't even bother getting upset for this trick. It was on him for not seeing it coming sooner. "Of course not..." But he would definitely have a talk with her for this later.

Penelope was pretty happy when she left, barely making it seem like she had that plumbing problem.

"Just you and me," Aitana said to Spencer when they heard the door close. "You sure you want to spend your day with me?"

"Yeah," Spencer said wholeheartedly. "Unless...unless you don't want to...?"

Aitana cocked her head to the side, her expression incredulous. "Of course I do! Let's do the ribbons, yeah?" She picked up a shiny dark brown mesh ribbon. "I was thinking I'd put it on the tree and sort of twist them around the branches. Makes it really nice afterwards."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer motioned her to start so he could see exactly how she wanted it.

She had to come up the step stool to show him how to start from the top. They carefully wrapped the ribbon around the tree until Aitana felt like it was secured properly. She then surprised Spencer with another mesh ribbon. It was cream colored with white sparkles. She giggled with his reaction. "It's just two of them, I promise."

Shortly afterwards, they opened up the boxes of ornaments. There were glittery dark browns, cream colors, and dazzling whites inside. Some baubles were larger than others, some seemed a little excessive. Spencer shyly pointed that out but Aitana assured him that it would all come together on the tree.

"I like things to show," she said as started putting some of the baubles on the bottom. "I don't mean excessive but, you know, I want it to be seen. What do you usually do for your tree?"

Spencer had started on the other side of the tree but still stood where he was able to see her. He was being as gentle as he could with her glass baubles. They had little things inside like autumn leaves and stems. It was something truly Aitana. "I don't really put one up."

"What!?" Aitana sounded as if she'd heard blasphemy. "What do you mean!?"

Spencer shrugged. "I live alone and...I don't really have a lot of room for one. Especially one this big," he made a gesture at hers.

Aitana chuckled for a moment. "Yeah, okay, your bookshelves do take up a lot of space...but not even one mini tree? You know they make small ones but not like the 3ft ones."

"I don't know..." Spencer didn't know how to put 'I don't know what to be festive about' in a sentence that didn't make him sound gloomy.

"Don't go Grinch on me, Spencer Reid," Aitana came up to his side. "Maybe after this, we can look for a small tree for you."

The idea of them spending yet another moment together left him with a warm face, especially when he realized it would a moment together where it was about him. Aitana smiled at his pensive face—at least that's what she thought it was—and wondered what type of tree he would like. She would do her best to find one that matched his apartment's style. They spent the rest of the time putting the ornaments around the tree and discussing what type of tree he would like.

"And you can pick out the color scheme for your baubles!" Aitana exclaimed. "It's my favorite part of the whole process: choosing what colors you want for the baubles. There's just so many, you know?"

"Mhm," Spencer nodded. "Did you know that the first baubles are thought to have originated from the idea of blown egg shells?"

Aitana's eyes widened. "Don't kid with me..."

"I'm not," Spencer raised his hands in front of him.

She shook her head with a laugh. "Do not stand there and tell me that my baubles came from egg shells!"

"Well, it's thought to be!"

Aitana set her hands on her hips, raising her head to meet his gaze. "Egg shells?"

"Yes."

"Blown egg shells?"

"Aha."

Aitana wanted to stay serious but her lips were quirking into a smile and before she knew it, she lost against another laugh. "Spencer, I just can't believe half the things you say sometimes!"

"I wouldn't lie to you," Spencer said, meaning it entirely.

Aitana went for one of the last baubles, a large one, and came up beside him. "Yeah?" She looked at him while her fingers tried leaving the hook of her bauble hanging on a branch. "So you would tell me if my decorations were bad?" She meant it as a joke but Spencer still nodded with his most serious face.

"But I wouldn't have to because you always have a good eye for decorating. You'd never decorate something badly."

She smiled at his kind words. Doing so and getting lost with his own smile, her fingers slipped over the bauble's hook. "Oh no!" She dove to catch it at the same time that Spencer did. They ended up grabbing it with their hands over each other's. "Nice catch!" Aitana exclaimed when they straightened up on their feet.

"Yeah, uh, I never had those..." Spencer flushed with the realization their hands hadn't moved apart. He was never a handsy person but right now he couldn't find anything better than this. Her hands were like soft feathers cushioning his skin. Aitana was smiling at him, albeit shyly if he'd paid a little more attention. In his defense, he was trying to make sure his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"Should we, uh, put the bauble on the tree?" Aitana timidly asked him. She knew he wasn't that thrilled with closeness so, as reluctant as she was, she pulled her hands from the bauble.

"Where did you, uh...?" Spencer looked back at the three.

"Right there," she pointed to the branch she'd been working on. She watched him fondly as he set the bauble right where she wanted it and on the first try. "You're pretty good at this," she said afterwards. "Might ask you to do this with me every year." Wouldn't that be nice? It would be very nice. She had luck this year that Penelope had taken him with her this year because she would've never had the courage to ask Spencer herself. She was afraid she'd bore him to death with this nonsense of hers.

"I'd like that," Spencer surprised her with his words. He was very aware of what he'd said for that he found it hard to look at her for a few seconds.

"You wouldn't get bored?" she asked, pretending to work with a bauble that most certainly did not need work on. "Because I know my decorations take a long time. I take it very serious, as you can see. My brothers always did the tree really quickly when we were younger. Thought they were the fastest decorators too."

"The world record for the fastest tree decorating was 36.89 seconds," Spencer said, "Sharon Juantuah in Essex, UK had a 100 lights, 2 lengths of tinsel and 15 baubles when she was done."

"Really?" Aitana raised an eyebrow. "Only 15 baubles?"

Spencer nodded. "Yup."

"Mm, I like having more..."

"And it looks wonderful."

Aitana brought her fingernail to her teeth, cheeks once again threatening to turn pink. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

It was Spencer's turn to blush. She thought he was sweet. He was actually saying the right things to her. It gave him a sense of hope that maybe one day he might actually say the right thing to get a date with her.

When all the baubles were set accordingly and after Aitana did a quick check to make sure that no two colors were right next to each other, she went back to the bags. She soon realized that Penelope had left her own additions in the bag. She should've known with that woman. "Penelope left me a couple things," she pulled out a box of pine sticks. "It may be an artificial tree but it's going to smell like a real one. You want to put those in?"

"Yeah," Spencer came to take the box and returned to the tree.

"Oh my God, Pen," he heard her say afterwards with a soft laugh to follow. He looked back to see Aitana taking out a mistletoe from the bag. She was shaking her head. "What does she think I'm going to be doing these days?"

Spencer preferred not to voice those thoughts. He cleared his throat and offered her an awkward shrug before he put all of his focus on the pine cone sticks.

"If I don't put this up, I won't hear the end of it," Aitana decided it was best to just go with it. She found the first spot to hang it from which turned out to be the living room's threshold. "I'm going to laugh when she has to give Luke a kiss."

At that, Spencer freely laughed. Aitana looked back to see him having to pause with the pine sticks in order to laugh. It was rare to see him like that. Aitana wished it wasn't like that but given their line of work, it was typical.

Before she returned to the bags, she decided to start up a some music for the background. "Do you mind?" she asked when Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy started from her phone.

"Course not." Spencer watched her sway back to the bags on the couch. He was smiling at her but when Aitana happened to look his way and caught him, he was immediately flustered.

She laughed when he dove his gaze to the branches in front of him. "I'm a whole show, huh?" She may have been embarrassed, her cheeks were a pink tinge. Anyone else would've said she was crazy but that would never leave Spencer Reid's mouth. He wasn't like that.

"It's okay," Spencer said quietly while he waited for his face to calm down with the heat.

Eventually, she returned to dig through the bags. There weren't many things left anymore besides the little ornaments that would go around the house and the tree topper. She started pulling out the tree topper when she noticed something different amongst the remaining ornaments. It was a small box with an adorable little red ribbon over it. She left the tree topper to take the box up instead.

"What's this?" she pulled the lid off and found one more ornament tucked inside. It was wooden crafted with 'A. D. T.' carved in the middle. There was a smaller carving of what seemed like a wrapped candy on the bottom right. A red and white plaid ribbon was attached to its top. "Oh, now this is nice!" She turned around to Spencer and showed him the ornament. "Did Penelope get this?"

Spencer was shifting on his feet for some reason. "Um, no, not...not really. I did." Aitana froze for a second. He now had undivided attention. "I was going to...to give it to you at work but then Penelope invited me here so I thought...I thought it would be—be better here."

Aitana looked at the ornament again with a new sentiment. "This is beautiful, Spencer. Is it hand-carved?" That was a stupid question to ask when she could see it plain as day but right now, her vocabulary wasn't at its strongest. Her heart speedy heartbeats were certainly a sign of that.

"Y-yeah," Spencer nodded. "Your initials. Aitana Dulce Serrano."

"And the piece of candy on the bottom..." Aitana chuckled at the carving. "Dulce means..."

"Candy," Spencer finished, though a better translation for him was 'sweet' because that's exactly what she was. "It's like a signature for your tree, cos...cos it's all made by you."

Aitana felt her entire face warm up. She had no idea what to do with herself at that moment. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have an idea of what she wanted to do but she didn't want to invade Spencer's personal space. "You are..." She couldn't even that sentence.

Spencer smiled in what he was sure was awkwardly. He didn't have anything better than that. "Do you like it?" His entire happiness may be depending on it.

Aitana almost laughed incredulously. "Spencer, I love it! The only reason I'm not over there hugging you to death is because I'm not sure if you'd want me up in your personal space!"

Spencer straightened up with a clearing of his throat. "I wouldn't...mind..." He was actually proud of himself for being able to say that in one go, even more when Aitana ran up to him to give him that hug. She was so warm and, ironically, smelled sweet. He had no idea how long the hug would last so he would soak up every second he had.

"I have to find something amazing to give you now," Aitana said, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know what it is but rest assured that it will be amazing!"

Spencer laughed. "You don't have to. I just know that you love your decorations so I figured having a personalized one would fit perfectly with your themes."

Aitana felt a rush of butterflies thinking about the fact he thought of her and her decorating nonsense. She was really lucky to have him in her life. She may have snugged to him without even noticing.

Spencer noticed. He noticed straightaway. He swallowed hard and had to put every last bit of his focus on making sure he didn't make this awkward. He didn't really know what to do but he was sure the main thing was not to make it uncomfortable. This was the closest he'd ever been to Aitana and he wanted to do it right. "

"I'm going to put this right up front," Aitana eventually pulled away but her eager smile was enough to ward off any of Spencer's doubts. She was enthralled with his gift. "Can you get the tree topper for me?"

"Yeah," he nodded and went for the bag on the couch. By the time he had the tree topper, Aitana had already placed the ornament right at the center. It was one of the first things anyone would notice. He couldn't help his swell of pride seeing it there. Maybe some part of him hoped that Aitana would think of him every time she saw the ornament.

"Looks perfect!" She stepped back beside him.

"Tree topper?" He held it for her. She gingerly took it into her hands and pulled out part of the ribbon. It was a huge ribbon bow in a dark brown and cream color, just like the rest of her tree.

"I want to put it," she said with a giggle. "At home, I always got to put the star. It was easy to do that when you're the only girl in your family."

"You were sneaky, then," Spencer smirked.

"Yup!" She headed for the step stool with Spencer right behind her. "You tell me if it's crooked, alright?"

Spencer stepped back to instruct her what side she needed to tilt the topper should it need to be. It was bemusing to watch her strain to pull it after he asked her if she wanted him to do it. She wasn't as tall but she was going to get the job done one way or another. To her credit, ten minutes later she did it.

"It looks good?" Aitana called. She was giggling as Spencer held his hands out in a frame motion. "What's the doctor's verdict?"

"Perfect!" He dropped his arms to his sides.

Aitana clapped happily. "Then I think we are done!" Spencer agreed and walked over to her. "With the tree because my house still needs a little Christmas upgrade!"

"I know for a fact that Penelope brought a whole lot of stuff for that," Spencer said.

"Yeah, but we can take a break," Aitana shrugged. She went down the step stool only to trip on the last one.

"Woah!" Spencer's reflexes were shockingly good because he caught her on time. "Did you get a little too excited there?"

"M-maybe..." Aitana was flat-out embarrassed and it showed in her cut-up laugh. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gripping them from the fall. "I just really love Christmas, if you haven't noticed." She raised her head and found they were incredibly close this time.

"I noticed," Spencer smiled softly at her. "And I think it's nice that our work hasn't tainted your holidays."

Aitana's eyebrows knitted together. "Is that why you don't put up a Christmas tree? Because of everything that we see?"

Spencer didn't immediately answer but his expression was doing it for him. There were images that just didn't fade so quickly. "It's not the entire reason but...kind of..."

"Oh, and me trying to force you into buying a tree and decorations doesn't help."

"No!" Spencer was quick to say and at the same time pulled his hands off her body. "You being in the holiday spirit is so nice to see! It makes me so happy knowing that your happiness hasn't been spoiled by work. And I would definitely like to put up a tree in my house, if it's with you. I like spending time with you. You make everything better, you make everything...sweet."

Aitana fiddled with her fingers in front of her. "You really think that?"

Spencer panicked for a moment when he realized that he had said all that. His first reaction—his instinctive reaction—was to make up something to downplay his words but Aitana seemed hopeful. She was hopeful for something and that something had to be about his words. He didn't want to be the reason her hope dwindled.

"Well yeah," he shrugged. "You're fun to be around with. Everyone always has plans for this time of the year and...it makes me wish I could plan things with you."

Aitana felt the air leave her for a second there. Her fingers pulled apart from each other and her right hand seemed to want to point at herself but her nerves were too much to do it. She glanced over her shoulder to her Christmas tree then back to Spencer. "So...you'd want to...keep doing this?"

By this point, Spencer saw no more reason to hide. He already said what he wanted to. "Yeah, and-and maybe go out to see, uh, the Christmas festivals. Get some hot chocolate maybe? I-I know there's a mini-concert happening this weekend. All the classics will be sang..."

Aitana chuckled while Spencer slowly trailed off. "Last Christmas?"

"Yeah, I-I'm sure that'd be one of them..."

Aitana folded her arms over her chest and stayed quiet for a few seconds (which seemed agonizingly long for Spencer). Panicking came easy to him thinking she was deciding how to reject him. "Could you...could you take like 10 steps back?"

"What?" Spencer looked down at the floor as if he'd find something there.

"Scratch that, 12 steps." Aitana motioned him to do it.

Though he was completely lost, he went ahead and took the 12 steps back. "...nine...ten...eleven...twelve." He looked around to figure out what was so special about the spot. When he met Aitana's gaze, she was biting her index fingernail again. What was she nervous about? "I'm not sure what to do now..."

"That's a first." She dropped her hand to her side then rushed up to him.

He caught her in his arms just as she threw hers around his neck and kissed him. Once more, the instinct came back and this time it was telling Spencer to hold Aitana tightly and kiss her back. He pressed her body against him and followed her sweet lips in whatever way they went. He knew it was impossible but he was sure that she tasted like actual sugar. He would've laughed if it didn't threaten to end their moment. He didn't want anything to ruin it. Aitana's hands were at the nape of his neck toying with his hair. Her touch was soft like he knew it would be. They'd touched before but nothing like this which meant everything he felt was new and better.

When they pulled apart, only slightly though, Aitana smiled up at him. "That was better than I thought it'd be," she admitted. She giggled with the clear blush on Spencer's face. She pointed a finger up and when Spencer followed it he found the mistletoe that she'd hung earlier.

"Ooh..." That's why he'd taken the steps backwards. "Clever girl."

Aitana shrugged proudly. "First kiss under a mistletoe...how could I let the opportunity pass us by?"

"About what I said..." Spencer stopped when she placed a finger over his lips.

"I'd love to go wherever you want. Anywhere. A walk, a festival, putting up a tree at your place..." She pulled her finger from his lips and fixed his cardigan. "Just tell me when."

"Tomorrow?" Spencer tried his luck. "Uh, there's a live reading for Christmas books. You said you like—"

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" Aitana practically bounced on her feet. She was an utter child for these things and yet he still wanted to give her more events like those? She was really lucky. "Oh Spencer, you have no idea what you started."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he said, smiling softly at her. "I promise I won't be a Grinch."

Aitana laughed. "You could never be," she cupped his face. "I'm just over-the-top for the holidays."

"I love it. I really do. I want to make those plans that everyone always makes. But, just with you."

"Well, we can take a break here and make some hot chocolate in the kitchen...I have marshmallows. And the sugar."

"Dulce," he enunciated her middle name in a way that left her puddy in his arms.

She leaned on him with the biggest grin on her face. "Hot chocolate?"

"Absolutely," he nodded.

"And then we can start making those plans," she promised him.

Spencer already had at least a dozen plans lined up in his head. His arms wrapped around her again. He could finally do that and more. "I love the sound of that." They met for another kiss that delayed their hot chocolate for at least another five minutes.

#ocappreciation #criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #fd: criminal minds #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fics #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fics #cm fics #cm imagines #oc: aitana serrano

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

Ancient History and Open Wounds (Pt.3)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: In an effort to save Aundreya, the BAU has to turn to some unlikely allies before it’s too late. Story twenty.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Kidnapping. I don’t explicitly talk about torture, but it happens. Someone gets shot. Quick mention of previous sexual abuse and drug abuse.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I hope you enjoy part three and how this “event” comes to an end

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

It was like one big nightmare. I felt like I was constantly in and out of consciousness, and I was having trouble remembering who I’d told what and how much they’d figured out since DeLeon opened his mouth. But the game was still on, and everytime he cut the feed, he recorded me trying to convince him not to shoot one of the members. What that recording consisted of? Me saying as many shitty things about them as I could think of in five minutes. And I had to be convincing, because if he thought that I actually cared, then he’d shoot them. Hell knows what he planned on doing with those recordings (I mean I had a couple ideas, like ruining what was left of those relationships or holding them over me as leverage), but I was able to get Roman, JJ, Hotch, Derek, Deen, Niko, Rossi, and Emily off the hook so far. Luckily, Tara was working on some other case talking to some criminal, so I didn’t have to worry about her. But when it got to Penleope, I guess I just wasn’t convincing enough.

But what bad thing could I possibly say about her? That she was the only person day one that didn’t judge me? That she was the reason I was on the team to begin with because she stood up for me? That even when I went to prison and could have been completely alone, she came to visit me? Even after the rest of the team decided they were done with me?

I tried, I really did try, because I knew her life depended on my cruelty. But I failed. I failed at what I was supposed to be good at. And when I heard the gunshot go off, I felt like it was me who’d been shot. I saw her body crumple to the ground, and Hotch and Deen and Emily rush to her side. I saw them call the ambulance, and rush out of the room onto the street when they arrived so the paramedics didn’t know what else was going on. But I had to look away when they put her on that stretcher, with all of that blood, skillfully pressing on her chest, trying to preserve the life I’d just destroyed.

I hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down my face or the strangled cries coming from my chest when the little red light of the live feed turned back on.

“Aww, do you have something you’d like to say?” DeLeon mocked. He reached up and unchained my arms which came swinging down like a wrecking ball. “Why don’t you look at the camera and tell the two people who care the most about her what you’ve done?”

I didn’t know exactly who he was talking about, one was most likely Derek and everyone cared a lot about her, but it honestly didn’t matter. They would all be mad at me anyways. I croaked, “She’s been shot. Penelope’s been shot. And I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t prevent it. I’m so sorry.”

“Heartbreaking,” DeLeon deadpanned, “But now we’re down to two. Do you know who those two are?”

I did. I knew he was going down the list, as if he knew exactly how close my connections were with each person, saving the closest two for last. But I didn’t want to admit that.

“I know you do. You’ve been keeping track of them and releasing a sigh of relief every time I don’t say their name. Well, it’s time Aundreya. And you know what, I don’t even want to record these. I want you to look at their faces and tell them everything you hate about them. And then I want you to choose,” his voice was much harsher now, no longer sounding like he was enjoying this game as much as he was.

I looked up at the screens in front of me. The first showed Spencer, the second showed Mateo, and the third showed the room they were standing in with the others. I couldn’t do this. There was no way I could pull off hating them. Even if I did, I was sure he would shoot them anyways, definitely the one I chose, or whatever.

DeLeon was getting impatient with my hesitation, “Start. Talking!”

But I didn’t. I couldn't. I would have to come up with something better. But I was running out of time. DeLeon walked over and unchained my legs, knowing I no longer had the strength to fight him. I didn’t even have the strength to stay standing. I collapsed to the floor, only barely catching myself on my hands and knees.

“Look at you. Some big, fearless leader you are now. Didn’t you tell me that you’d never get on your knees for me?”

“I’m still not. I will never be on my knees for you, DeLeon,” I rasped.

He grabbed me by my hair, forcing me to look up at him, “Now tell them all the things we know you’re really thinking.”

He released my hair and my head hung like a kicked puppy’s, and I knew I had to speak. DeLeon’s whole plan hinged on me being a cruel, heartless monster, who couldn’t care about anyone, and he was determined to keep it that way. So I might as well use that, and beat him at his own game. “If you’re after who I care about the most, or who I love so you can take an eye for an eye, it’s not going to work. I don’t love either of them, and not a single person working to help me right now. You think I’m capable of that? Capable of caring for another person, someone other than myself? Putting someone else’s needs above my own? Capable of loving you? I mean, did you really think we were ever in love?”

“Do not turn this on me,” DeLeon spat.

“Why not? That’s what this is about, right? The fact that you actually cared about me, but I had nothing but hate for you? The fact that the next person you were delusional enough to think loved you is dead because of me?” I pushed.

“I told you, you do not have any right talking about her!” DeLeon screeched. I was getting to him. This might actually work.

“Fine, then let’s keep talking about you. You’re just a sad little boy who’s never experienced love or compassion or empathy and is willing to cling to anyone and anything that shows you the slightest bit of attention. That’s why you went after me, right? Because there was no one else around that gave a damn, and even still you had to force me to-”

“Shut up!” His strength was wavering and it was obvious in his voice. His fist was at my cheek again, but I couldn’t pay attention to that. I was close.

“We’re the same. I’ve never learned any of that either, not from a single person in my life. Think about it! The first real passion of mine was hunting down and killing the man that destroyed my family. Then I went on to join a gang where it was kill or get killed, not an ounce of sympathy and everyone was rock hard. Then I took over a gang and transformed it into a ring at the age of 19, and from then on out, everything revolved around me. I was the center of attention and everyone praised me, no matter how many times I fucked up and how many friends I got killed in the process. Even after I went to prison, which was no cushy experience either and happened twice by the way, people were still willing to scrub my feet. And after all of that, you think I’m in love with not one, but two people?” I thought I had him right where I wanted him, fuming with both Mateo and Spencer off the hook.

But instead, he turned back to talk into his phone and said, “Shoot them both.”

Before I could think, I yelled, “Don’t!”

DeLeon smirked at me as he turned around, “And why shouldn’t I?”

“Turn off the camera,” I commanded. DeLeon just looked at me, and he opened his mouth, probably to remind me that I don’t get to make commands, but I repeated, “Turn. It. Off.”

There must’ve been something in my gaze that compelled him to do what I asked, because he clicked the live feed off.

“You have 30 seconds.”

“You want to take an eye for an eye, right? Get back at me for Xena? Fine. Don’t shoot those two, instead let me carry out my deal with Archer,” I proposed.

“And why is that better than my plan?” Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely interested.

“Because in yours, you kill at least two, maybe three people I care about. In the other, you destroy my relationships with everyone. I pick the BAU over the ring, there goes the ring, and then I carry out my deal with Archer to kill the vice president and pin it on Aaron and there goes my relationship with them. My life is wrecked, my eternal unhappiness is guaranteed, and your goal is achieved.”

He seemed like he was actually contemplating my offer, his face scrunching up in thought. “How am I supposed to believe that you will go through with it this time? You couldn’t last time.”

It was a valid point, but I had to confess, “Because I’d rather my life be destroyed than theirs.”

I could barely look up at him from my position on the floor, trying to retain even a shred of dignity, but when I did, his hand was outstretched in my direction. I was so shocked that I just looked at it.

“It’s now or never,” DeLeon prompted. I shook his hand, sealing my fate as the wrecking ball that finally broke the BAU and the ring I started. He leaned over to whisper, “As long as you can survive until they come and get you.”

I recognized a second too late what was happening, not like I could’ve prevented it in my state. He yanked my shoulder out of my socket, turned me on my stomach, and rammed his foot into my back. It was all I could do not to scream as he dragged a blade across my spine.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I wasn’t sure how long it’d been. Minutes, hours, days. But they found me.

“Chambers. Chambers!” A male voice called out. I tried to respond, but all that came out was a groan. “Over there. Call the medics.”

I heard footsteps approaching me, and when they squatted down next to me, I tried to look up at them. The pain was so excruciating that I winced.

“Don’t move,” I could now tell it was Hotch who’d found me and he continued, “More help is on the way.”

“I can get up,” I insisted, moving to roll onto my side. It took me a few seconds, but it happened. Hotch gave me a stern look, about to argue but I pleaded, “Please, Aaron. I don’t want to be carried out on a stretcher like that.”

He knew what I was referencing and just gave me a small nod. “Dave, Deen, help me get her up.”

Rossi gave him a look, but Deen was not surprised. “Are you for real, Alionth?”

“Dead serious, Deen. You know me.” He smiled a bit at that, and the three of them helped me up. I could walk better than expected, but that could’ve just been because all three of them were practically carrying me. When we got outside, Niko, Mateo, Spencer, and Emily were all waiting. “Where is everyone else?”

“Morgan and JJ are with Garcia,” Hotch answered.

“And Roman is holding down the fort,” Deen added, “And Dalton and JT are at the hospital standing guard for Garcia.” I gave Deen a look. Usually he would send others, or ask me before doing that. He just shrugged and answered, “I figured you’d want that.” He wasn’t wrong, but neither was I.

My attention was turned back to the four people in front of me when both Mateo and Spencer approached me at the same time. “How are you feel-”

“Are you o-” They both started and then glared at each other. I wondered for a second what was wrong, until I remembered DeLeon making a comment about me having two boyfriends. And then them getting trapped in the same room together. That could’ve worked out better.

I didn’t have the energy to talk to them or figure them out right now, so I just said, “We’ll talk later. But I’m okay, thank you. Both of you.” Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because I saw their faces scrunch up further.

“Hey, how did you get him to leave and basically let you go?” Mateo asked.

“I can be very persuasive,” I mumbled.

“Aundreya, what did you do?” Spencer asked, concern and slight panic in his eyes.

“I got out alive,” I answer, “And hopefully got everyone else out alive, too.”

“What did you-” he tried again.

“Stop. I did what I had to.” I couldn’t tell him about the deal I’d made and I certainly didn’t want to discuss it now.

There was a fire in Spencer’s eyes, “Why? Whatever you did, why would you? We were going to find you-”

“You would have died. Don’t you understand that? You both would have died,” I glanced over at Mateo who was surprisingly quiet throughout this. I teared up, “I already cost Penelope … god knows what, and I wasn’t about to add more names to that list of mine.”

“Aundreya-”

I cut him off again, “No, Spencer. If you need to know, I did it because you have something to live for. I’m tired of you not being able to see that.” With that, I hobbled over to the ambulance and sat down, waiting for them to shut the doors and take off.

When they didn’t, and everyone was looking at me expectantly, I looked to the nearest paramedic for an answer. She whispered, “If you want someone to accompany you…”

Oh. Great. I love decision making. “Um, Mateo?” The moment his name was halfway out of my mouth, he was sitting next to me. I didn’t look for anyone’s reaction to that, and then the door clicked shut and we were on our way to the hospital.

“Look I just wanted to-” we both started at the same time. I laughed and Mateo said, “Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to apologize to you,” I started. He looked bewildered as to why I’d need to apologize, but I kept going. “I’ve treated you unfairly. You’ve been here for me through everything, and I worry that sometimes you feel like I’m dismissing you.”

“No, Alionth, you could never-”

“I appreciate that, but I want to finish. When we started this, you offered just a little pushback, and I took it to the extreme. It wasn’t fair of me to threaten you like that, especially with that. So I’m sorry. And just so you know, I’d rather go it alone than do that to you. To you and Niko.”

“Thank you. I know you would never, but it’s nice to hear you say that,” he said softly, with a smile.

“Okay, your turn,” I prompted.

“I just wanted to tell you that despite everything, I was glad to hear that you still consider us family and the place you belong.” He hesitated for a moment, so I looked up at him. He swallowed, “And I do still love you.”

My heart melted, and I tried to ignore the sound of shattering in my ears, thinking about how I would have to return to the BAU to finish what I started. But, he didn’t have to know that yet. All he had to know was how grateful I was for him. “Can I say it now?”

He laughed, “There’s no one here to stop you.”

“I love you too, Mateo.” For the first time in a long time, I saw tears well up in his eyes.

I reached up to brush them away, and he held my hand to him, “God, I just want to hug you or kiss you right now, but I don’t want to mess anything up.”

I laughed with him, giving myself a once over and realizing just how awful I looked. And felt. So instead, I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he delicately wrapped his arm around me. “Soon.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

It’d been a couple weeks, and I was healing quite well, considering everything. Everyone visited me, BAU and ring members alike. It was unfortunate to get a visit from DeLeon in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t believe I had to remind him that before I could get back to my agreement, I would actually have to heal from everything he’d done to me. He accepted this, but reminded me he was keeping an eye on me.

Penelope and I shared a hospital room, and as great as it was to see her, everytime I looked over to all the machines she was hooked up to, I wanted to just curl up and cry. Which I’d done a few times. When she caught me, I profusely apologized for everything and getting her involved in all of this. She reached her hand out to me and squeezed it, letting me know that she was alive and recovering. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I would just sit there and watch her breathe. It was comforting.

Deen visited the most. He started out sitting next to me, and then gradually moved closer and closer to Penelope each time he came. I tried to hide my amusement, but for as smooth as Deen could be, he was equally as awkward. It was actually funny, to see him floundering whenever she looked at him.

One night, when he thought we were both asleep, he sat at the foot of her bed and was doing what I was often doing, just watching her breathe and hearing the beeping of her heart.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked. It was about 1am, and visiting hours were definitely over.

He looked at me, probably about to make up some excuse, but when he saw the look in my eyes and the smirk on my face, he relented. “You know why. Even after everything that happened to you back there, I knew you knew the moment you looked at me like that.”

“You gave yourself away by putting both JT and Dalton outside her door,” I wiggled my eyebrows. He just sighed. “You really do like her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. She’s just so…” he trailed off, gesturing to her general figure.

I offered a small laugh, careful not to wake her, “Don’t I know it.” And I did know how it felt to be around her. Not only was she a literal tech genius, but in the dark line of work she was in, and the usual depressive state of everyone around her, her unfaltering light was enough to keep her as an asset to the team. It was no wonder that a man, used to working in a ring like mine, would be attracted to someone so pretty, and sweet, and smart as Penelope.

“It’s never going to work, though,” Deen said, looking over at me.

“And why shouldn’t it?”

“Are you blind? Look at her. She’s … everything. What do I even have to offer her? More depressing news?” Deen huffed.

“Are you blind? She’s been flirting with you this whole time. She has a unique way of going about that, like teasing you and pretending to ignore you and only every now and then making a passive aggressive, backhanded compliment, but she likes you, too. Trust me. And don’t degrade yourself. Sure, you’re not as smart as she is-”

“She reminds me of that frequently,” Deen said with a smile.

“None of us are. There is no one else like her, but Deen, you are smart, you are handsome, and you work hard. You’re a leader, and you’re the Penelope of our ring. When things get really dark, you do your best to keep it light. The two of you would be good together,” I finished.

“Thank you, Alionth.”

“Always. Now you just have to build up the courage to ask her out when this is over.”

“Are you kidding me? I nearly choked when I saw her in her work attire, I think I’d have a heart attack and die if I saw her in a dress for a date,” Deen said, eyes getting wide.

“I’m sure you would,” I agreed.

After a while, Deen commented, “That was some pretty good acting, by the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back when you were on that feed with DeLeon? All those things you said were all very convincing.”

“That wasn’t acting,” I sighed, and Deen's eyes whipped over to mine, “Actually, that was the first time I haven’t been acting.”

“Why? Why then?” Deen was inspecting me curiously.

“I just decided to stop hiding. It’s exhausting.”

“But you do still love them both, right?”

I contemplated that for a few seconds before responding, “I honestly wish I didn’t.” It��d make all of our lives so much easier.

I didn’t have to expand, because Deen seemed to get the message. Somehow, he and I were always on the same page. For the rest of the night, Deen and I sat there thinking about what was to come and thanking our lucky stars that Penelope Garcia, and everyone else involved, was going to be okay.

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Future Job

leverage 2.13

Nate: Yeah, belief perseverance. People cling even tighter to their beliefs after they've been shown evidence contradicting them.

🥰 psych terms 🥰

- - - - -

Nate: All right, don't worry. This guy, Rand, is gonna pay. We're gonna make sure of that.

Ryan: I'm not here asking for money, Mr. Ford. I just want my sister back.

another noble client 😌

- - - - -

Parker: So this is where he shoots his show, huh? Surrounded by warehouses and storage lockers?

Nate: Well, it's, uh, local cable access. He's, uh, self financing. They're probably trying to score a bigger payday. Network or something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, you're right about that. I've hacked Rand's website, stole his passwords and used 'em to access his e-mail. You know, this man has his computer hooked up to the city's free Wi-Fi? My nana could hack this thing.

- - - - -

Woman (to Parker): Who are you hoping comes through today?

Parker: Nothing. What, uh, nobody. I don't wanna talk to anybody.

Nate: What's wrong?

Parker: I just don't like psychics, OK? They freak me out.

Nate: OK, just relax. All right? We're just here to see what tricks Rand has up his sleeve. That's all. Just..

- - - - -

Tara: What is that smell?

Hardison: What smell? I just washed this thing. You could eat off the floor.

Tara: No, there's a smell.

someone make a compilation of people disrespecting the van and hardison Not Having It™

- - - - -

Rand: It's, uh, It's not a gecko. You've shut yourself off to the energies that are around us. But, your friend here, she's a little more receptive.

(Parker fidgets)

Rand: In fact, I think I'm getting an energy right now. It's definitely family. Is it your father? No. No, it's a sibling. Brother.

(Parker looks down)

Rand: You were both very young. It was an accident. I see a road. I see a car. But your brother's not in the car. He's in the street. Wheels. I see wheels. A skateboard. No, a bicycle. Was he riding a bicycle when he was struck? He's been gone a long time from you now.

(Parker tries not to cry)

Rand: He's sorry that he had to leave you. He knows that you feel responsible, but he wants you to know it was an accident. You taught him to ride that bike, didn't you?

(Parker runs out of the studio)

Rand: That's all right. Sometimes people aren't ready to hear what the spirits have to say.

(Nate gets up and follows Parker out)

[Interior Van]

Tara: Damn.

Hardison: Damn.

Tara: He is good.

Hardison: He should be shot

this is heartbreaking but also see how hardison IMMEDIATELY wants to hurt the guy because NOBODY has the right to hurt parker like that. he cares about her so deeply, your honor

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker is sitting on the floor near the couch when the others walk in)

Nate: Parker?

Parker: There's no way he coulda known that stuff. I've never told anyone. No one. Ever.

this scene made my heart HURT

Nate: But, Parker, he didn't know anything.

Parker: No, Nate. You said we'd find a trick up his sleeve. You said we'd find a trick. Well, we didn't find a trick, did we? He knew things. He's really psychic.

Eliot: He's not a psychic, Parker. He's just a con man.

Nate: He just did a cold read on you. That's all.

Tara: He asked questions and used your answers to guide him.

Parker: But I didn't say anything (her voice cracks)

Nate: You didn't have to. Can I show you something?

(Hardison pulls up a feed of the show on the monitors)

Nate: Right, right there. Do you remember when he asked you, "Is this energy that I'm getting, does it have anything to do with your father?" Do you remember? Well, you furrowed your eyebrow. You might as well have told him, "No."

Tara: And then, when he keyed in on your brother, right here. Your eyes widened just slightly. He knew he was on the right track.

Hardison: Then he just guessed, Parker. He got a hit when he said that you were both very young and he just went with the odds. An accident of some kind.

Parker: But he knew about the bicycle.

Nate: No, he didn't. 'Cause what happened was he said "wheels," and then he moved on. He said "skateboard." You told him about the bicycle.

Parker: No, I didn't say anything.

Nate: You had a certain tell, Parker. Your mouth opened just a little bit. Enough for him to register your surprise. Then, well, he just guessed.

Tara: He used all these things during the reading. How your breathing changed, if your shoulders were raised or slouched, how you were holding your hands, if your, if your lips were pursed.

Parker: What about the other people? He knew names and relationships.

Nate: Yeah, the hot read. What he does is he researches before the show, gets himself armed with as much information as possible to help him with the readings. It's not really that much different than what we do.

Parker: But he doesn't know who's gonna be in the audience ahead of time.

Nate: Well, no. No, he doesn't. He doesn't know until they're there.

WHEN HER VOICE CRACKED I LOST IT

“but he knew about the bicycle” HER VULNERABLE SAD VOICE

- - - - -

Tara: So what do we do now?

Parker: Cut off his arms. And his head. Yeah. I wanna kill him. Can we make that happen?

Eliot: Yeah. I can... I mean, I could...

okay but THIS SCENE

IT HAS MY WHOLE (WHOLE) HEART

eliot, who has SWORN OFF killing, sees parker in such distress and hurt that he offers to bring back that part of his past for her.

he knows she’d never ask that of him, though, which is partially one of the reasons he felt comfortable offering. she would never abuse his past like that, even with how hurt she was and some part of him knows that when he speaks

he’d do anything for her because he loves her, even in season two. send tweet.

- - - - -

Rand: You wanna know what the trick is?

Wilson: Yeah.

Rand: It's confidence. You believe what you're saying and they'll believe it, too. Doesn't matter how many misses, 'cause it's the hits that they'll remember.

- - - - -

Tara: Two years ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The doctors removed it, but ever since, I guess you could say I was twice blessed. With renewed life, and with this gift.

Rand: You're serious.

(Tara takes his hand and guides it to the back of her head)

Tara: Feel the scar?

Rand: All right, then. Tell me something that only the spirits would know. Tell me about my father. How he died.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Don't worry. I got you, girl.

Eliot: Wait a minute, we didn't give her that scar, did we?

Nate: No. We did not

tara has SO MUCH undiscussed backstory that I desperately want to know

- - - - -

(Rand takes his arms off the table and shakes them, surprised)

Tara: What's wrong?

Rand: I just felt something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Nate had me rig the table with a mild electrical current.

Eliot: You electrocuted him?

Hardison: Yes, I did. It helped sell the bit.

Parker: I approve.

Hardison: Thanks, Parker.

Eliot: No. Her agreein' with you is not a good thing.

Nate: (at Parker) Thanks

eliot when parker suggests something sketchy/morally grey: eh, whatever, I’ll stop her if she goes too far but it’s just who she is

eliot when nate does the Exact Same Thing™: NOPE. GET OUT OF HERE WITH THOSE HORRIFIC IDEAS. BAD NATE. *sprays him with water*

- - - - -

eliot laughing as he tows the car LMFAO RETRIBUTION IS A BITCH

+ hardison with the fortune cookies and the bandana (bonus if parker saved them to eat for breakfast)

+ nate smiling as he almost hits rand with his car

- - - - -

Nate: OK, you ready?

Hardison: You do realize what you're asking me to do is impossible, right?

Nate (hands him orange soda): Here ya go.

Hardison: And my gummy frogs. I need my gummy frogs.

Nate: You serious?

Hardison: Yeah.

(Nate goes and gets the gummy frogs and throws them to Hardison)

GIVE HIM HIS ORANGE SODA AND GUMMY FROGS. HE NEEDS THEM TO WORK!!!

also I LOVE how there is apparently a DRAWER of them in nate’s kitchen

- - - - -

tara squared up to fight too, even ready to brawl without eliot because she’s a BADASS

- - - - -

Tara: Her husband. She thinks he's cheating on her.

Hardison: How'd you know that? All I said was she hired a private investigator.

Eliot: Married woman in her 40s? She's not looking for the Maltese Falcon

maltese falcon? foreshadowing anyone???

- - - - -

Parker: So, what, Kusen has a secret and he's gonna kill Rand so he doesn't reveal it? That'd be good.

Eliot: No, you wanna kill someone you don't get out and throw 'em in a van. You don't get out of your seat

- - - - -

also this is like the third (?) episode in a row where eliot has lil braids in his hair, it’s adorable but I wonder if it’s significant ???

+ parker changed and now she’s wearing a pretty blue flannel

- - - - -

also apparently to get a paper seem old you crumple it a LOT and then sandpaper it??? (according to parker in this episode)

- - - - -

(Down the aisle, Hardison, Eliot and Parker round a corner moving boxes toward a storage unit)

Hardison: We need more boxes.

Parker: And a lot of luck.

Eliot: Yeah, well, I think we used all our luck on finding this place.

Hardison: Wait, hold, hold...

(Hardison tapes something to the back wall of the unit as the others move boxes)

Hardison: You know what? It ain't luck, OK? Finding the perfect place to end the treasure hunt is a testimony to my intellectual prowess.

(Eliot drops a box on Hardison’s foot)

Hardison: Ow. (Parker laughs)

Eliot: What? It's baby clothes.

Hardison: It says "books," man.

Eliot: Does it?

chaotic ot3

- - - - -

eliot next to parker with his head resting on his arm is v cute

- - - - -

the whole fam was there to gloat vengefully with parker and I love that for her

- - - - -

Tara: They do make a cute pair, don't they?

Nate: Let's see, we got, uh, we got assault, kidnapping and burglary for our friend, Kusen, and garden variety fraud for our psychic friend, Dalton Rand. Any way we can get them in the same prison?

Hardison: That could be arranged

PUT THEM IN THE SAME PRISON

- - - - -

Jodie: A part of me knew it wasn't real, but I didn't care. I missed Mike so much. I wanted to see him again so bad.

Nate: You will see him again. Maybe it'll be a look. (looks at Jodie’s pregnant stomach) Maybe it'll be a gesture. Maybe it'll be the way he spreads peanut butter on a slice of bread. But when you see it, you'll know and you'll say, "That's Mike." And you know what? That's a miracle no one could ever sell you.

Jodie: Thank you, Mr. Ford.

(Jody and Ryan get up and head for the door)

Tara: (eyes watering) Now I see why you do it.

- - - - -

(Parker stops Jody and Ryan before they leave)

Parker: Before you go, this is for your sister and the baby.

Ryan (looks in envelope): What is this?

Parker: It's the money Rand took from your sister. All of it.

Ryan: I don't know what to say.

(Ryan hugs Parker who reluctantly hugs him back before they leave. Parker sits down at the bar with Hardison and Eliot)

Eliot: Wait a sec. I thought you said all of Rand's money went into paying for his show. I thought you said he was broke.

Hardison: It did. He was.

Eliot: Where'd the money come from? Did you guys find the stolen money? Hmm? Did you find Kusen's loot?

(Parker and Hardison just look at Eliot)

Eliot: Without... Unbelievable. Hmm? (walks away)

Parker: He who looks for hidden money shall find it, if he is also a thief.

(Parker and Hardison clasp hands)

there are so many things about this I want to talk about:

1. parker showing emotion and vulnerability talking to ryan and being startled and uncomfortable when the hug starts but slowly relaxing into it a little bit

2. eliot’s MAJOR fomo with parker and hardison,,, it’s adorable. poor baby

3. THEIR HAND CLASP YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a flannel in the final scene

also, you know how you can tell so many of the team is lgbt (parker, hardison, eliot)?

THE F L A N N E L S

THE P L A I D

as a bisexual I can #confirm there is way too much to be a coincidence it’s a Science™ I promise

#leverage 2.13 #leverage 2x13 #the future job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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