#can't believe we're already halfway there!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 12

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11

He’s got to be heading to the quarry, right? That’s where he goes on Wednesday’s after school to sell his stash, he’d told Steve so umpteen notes back. Steve’s poured over each one enough times to damn-near have the things memorized.

He’s in his car, speeding fast enough that if Hopper catches his ass, he’ll be hauled into a jail cell before he can even make it. Steve pushes his foot down on the pedal harder, trying to eke out any last bit of speed.

When he reaches his destination, Carver’s car is parked sideways across the dirt road that leads off to the quarry, blocking anyone else from entering. Steve slams on his breaks, kicking up dirt all around him, obscuring his view of the windshield.

He steps out into it, dust gritting up his eyes. The only way out is through, so he heads toward the sound of raised voices, stumbling over a raised root as he goes.

He can just barely make out the words now.

“—leave her alone, or you’re dead, do you hear me?” Carver’s not yelling, but when he comes into view, his eyes are hard, and he’s clutching at Eddie’s t-shirt with enough force that he’s holding his knees off the ground.

There’s blood on Eddie’s face, dripping down off it and staining the dirt beneath him.

Steve doesn’t think. “Hey!” he calls, rushing forward to insert himself between them, but before he can, Carver drops Eddie into an ungainly heap on the ground and spins around to face Steve.

Steve lets him; if his eyes are on him, then he’s not looking at Eddie.

“Harrington?” Carver asks, shoulders slumping like Steve’s a friendly, not one wrong move from popping him one in the nose. “What are you—”

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before the cops show?” Steve asks, using his Team Captain voice.

Steve watches it land. Carver’s shoulder slump, and he looks over Steve’s shoulder at where he’d abandoned his car. But then Eddie spits a glob of blood onto the ground, and Carver’s face shores up into something vicious.

“He was going to ask your girlfriend out, I heard all about it from his little friend!” Carver spits, like the words hurt as they come out of his mouth. “You should thank me on hands and knees!”

“I bet you’d love him on his knees,” Eddie cuts in, words slurring worryingly together.

Carver turns back toward Eddie, face gone almost translucent in the light of the afternoon sun. “Why, you—“

“Shut up, man,” Steve says, finally looking away from Carver to where Eddie’s on his knees, partially obscured by Carver’s body.

Eddie looks up at Steve, defiant as he spits a glob of saliva and blood into the dirt again then wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

Steve stares down at him, stomach twisting in on itself as Eddie’s glare only intensifies. There hadn’t been much in his eyes when he’d been looking at Carver, but when he’s looking at Steve? That’s rage, barely banked by what must be a killer concussion. Steve turns away from it, unable to bear it a moment longer.

“What’s the point of this?” Steve asks Carver, the exhaustion he’s starting to feel leaking into his voice.

“Chrissy doesn’t need—”

“Chrissy is an adult who doesn’t need either of us fighting her battles for her,” Steve cuts in. “Besides, they’re friends.”

Carver’s mouth curls in on itself. “She would never be friends with this f—”

“She’d kick your ass herself if she heard you talking about Munson like that.”

Carver turns his back on Eddie entirely, glaring at Steve like they’re in some sort of quick-draw stand-off in a stupid Western. Steve’s tired of this guy and all his hate, he’s tired of people he loves being hurt, tired of having to be Chrissy’s shield against the asshole in front of him, and Robin’s shoulder to cry on, and going home to an empty fucking house.

He’s just tired.

It’s a relief when Eddie stands on his own two feet, legs visibly shaking but holding his weight. Because nothing will ever stop Eddie from being Eddie, he claps like Steve and Jason are kindergartners and he’s their beleaguered teacher sent to corral them.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eddie says, grinning around the blood in his teeth. “But there’s only so much jock on jock violence I can take before I break out in hives. So, can I go?”

He throws a taunting thumb over his shoulder where his van’s parked closer to the cliff’s edge, turning to stumble toward it without another word. Carver and Steve both rush to stop him for opposing reasons.

“I’m not done with you,” Carver hisses.

Steve grabs his shoulder, yanking him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “Leave it, Carver, or I’ll ruin you.”

“What the hell could you even do?” Carver demands.

Steve stares him down, dead-eyed and entirely fed up. “I can tell Chrissy what you did, and she’ll lose what little respect she had for you. Then? I’ll have a meeting with Coach and get you kicked off the team. Then, who knows, maybe I’ll plant drugs in your locker, shave your head while you’re sleeping, vandalize school property in your name. Do you really want to stick around and find out what else I can think of?”

Carver holds his gaze for another, endless second before turning away and slinking back the way he came. Steve watches until Carver starts his own car, swerved recklessly close to Steve’s own parked car, and sped away.

When he turns back, Eddie’s nowhere to be seen. He slinks toward his van, unwilling to spook the guy further if he doesn’t need to.

He’s in the driver’s seat of his van, cursing as his shaking hands fumble with the keys, missing again and again as he tries to jam it into the keyhole.

“You can’t drive,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie still jumps, dropping the keys into the well beneath his feet as he snaps his head up, eyes wide and pupils eating up his face. There’s a bruise already swelling up his eyes, and blood caked beneath his nose. He looks a downright mess.

“Here to finish what your buddy started?” Eddie asks, showing off his bloody teeth again in a grin, as if Steve can’t see him shaking.

Steve shakes his head, throat clogged with too many words to name. What comes out is, “you’re not supposed to drive with a concussion.”

Eddie, tellingly, does not argue the concussion, but his bared teeth are starting to look more like a snarl as he replies, “I’m not leaving my van here.”

Steve stares at him. He’s sweating, with injury or panic, Steve’s not sure. There’s dirt in his hair, like before Steve had arrived, Jason had him on the ground, glossy curls pressed into the dirt. Steve clenches his hands into fists the more he sees. His t-shirt is black, but there’s a rip at its hem that Steve doesn’t think was there before.

He aches to reach through the open window and touch that busted face, find the split in his lip, clear the blood from beneath his nose.

Instead, he opens the driver’s side door, feeling like absolute scum as Eddie shuffles away, eyes wide as he presses himself as far away as possible as Steve climbs in.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, voice all wobbly.

Steve bends down to pick up the keys where Eddie had dropped them. He slides the key home and Eddie’s van tick tick ticks itself to life. When Eddie’s music blares, Steve reaches across to turn the dial down, ignoring Eddie’s flinch at his movement.

“Taking you home.”

Eddie’s van is bigger then he’s used to driving, the ride bumpier as he turns around and slides carefully past his own car, his keys probably still abandoned in the driver’s seat somewhere.

Hopefully it’ll still be there when he comes back for it.

*** 

“Did Chrissy put you up to this?” Eddie asks, voice small, small, small.

Harrington’s shoulders slump, clenched fingers loosening on the steering wheel. He sighs, long and loud, perfect hair rustling with the movement.

“Robin, actually,” he replies, lips tucked up into a facsimile of a smile.

Robin, Robin, Robin, does he know a Robin? His brain’s not working, too scrambled up inside. Eddie’s entire face aches as he scrunches it up in thought before cutting that shit out. No thinking for him until some of this heals. Still, he worries against the name, until, “Buckley?” comes out of his mouth.

Harrington smiles, warmer this time. “Yeah, she saw Carver following you.”

“And went to you?” Eddie asks, voice squeaking embarrassingly on the last word.

Harrington doesn��t answer, but his hands clench tight enough against the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white.

Eddie resolves himself to shutting the fuck up for the rest of the drive.

“How do you know where I live?”

“You’re…loud, dude,” Harrington says, pulling into Eddie’s empty driveway. Harrington’s right, he is loud. It still sounds like a lie. “Is your uncle home?”

Eddie squints, busted eye bursting with pain as he asks, “how do you know I live with my uncle?”

Harrington raises his eyebrow, clearly saying “you’re loud, dude,” again without even needing to open his mouth. Eddie kind of hates him for it.

“He’s on a fishing trip,” Eddie sighs.

Without another word, Harrington turns off the engine and slides out of the van, shutting the door gently behind himself. He rounds the front of the van and Eddie sits, stupefied in his seat as Harrington pulls open the passenger side door and holds his hand out like Eddie’s some swooning maiden. Feeling flustered and frustrated in turns, Eddie slaps his hand away and steps out of his van on his own two feet, slamming the door closed behind him.

Harrington doesn’t move out of the way as Eddie storms past, their shoulders banging into each other makes Eddie’s teeth rattle painfully in his bruised skull. He only remembers he doesn’t have his keys when he’s standing in front of his front door, hand empty.

He stares down at it, betrayed.

His house keys jingle in Harrington’s hand as he steps up beside him. Without even a by your leave, he inserts the key into the hole and twists, inexplicably choosing the right key on the first try. Is Steve Harrington a mind reader?

Harrington pushes the door open and holds it open for Eddie, as if it’s not his house they’re walking into.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie demands, standing on his own front porch like a loser as Harrington bends down and takes his sneakers off.

He lines them up neatly by the wall like he’s staying in The Ritz or something and doesn’t want to stain the dingy carpet.

“Taking my shoes off?”

“No!” Eddie wails, clutching handfuls of his hair, beyond frustration and into something that feels a lot like hysteria. “What are you doing here?”

Straightening up, Harrington stares down at Eddie where he’s still standing on his own porch. He looks incredulous, as if Eddie’s the one who’d saved him from getting killed by some jock, and Eddie’s the one who followed him home after like a lost puppy.

Like Eddie’s the one that doesn’t quite fit in the trailer park, and not Steve Harrington with his squeaky white shoes and ironed polo, and luscious hair, and skin that’s all sun-kissed even as summer’s barely a memory in a little girl’s eye.

“Your uncle’s not home.”

Eddie stares, gobsmacked. What the fuck are they putting in the water in Loch Nora, Jesus Christ! “So?!”

Harrington squints at him again, his aloof cool-guy shtick finally breaking to show the judgmental mean girl barely hidden beneath. “You’re totally concussed, dude,” Steve replies, a King handing down a decree to his loyal subjects. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t like, die.”

Eddie, never one to follow anyone’s decrees but his own, immediately starts bitching. “So, what? You’re playing home invader until someone comes to relieve you?”

He nods, smiling down at Eddie like he’s a puppy who finally learned not to piss on the carpet. Fed up with being a rung lower, Eddie takes that last step up onto the stoop and brushes past Harrington into his own goddamn house.

Harrington shuts and locks the door behind him.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor for the first time in his life, Eddie continues further into the trailer without turning around, not stopping until he’s got the bathroom door as a barrier between his vulnerable back and the latest interloper.

The light hurts his eyes as he flicks it on. His face hurts worse, and he can see why, now. One of his eyes is well on its way to swelling shut, a deep red bleeding into purples the farther out it goes. There’s blood beneath his nose, and it’s ballooning out making him look like some old lady’s prized pug. There’s a split going straight through his lip from Carver’s class ring.

He looks like an extra in a horror movie; the guy who’s about to make the sacrifice play because he’s not going to make it. And yeah, maybe there’s a little melodrama in the thought, but Eddie’s pretty sure he deserves it at this point.

God, what a day.

As punctuation to his own thoughts, someone knocks quietly on the door. Eddie’s ribs ache as his shoulders slump, head hanging damn-near into the dirty sink.

“Eddie?” There’s a moment of silence where Eddie’s response is supposed to be. He doesn’t heed it. “Can I come in?”

Eddie groans, loud enough that it’s gotta be audible through the tissue-paper door between them. “Why?” he says–whines pitifully, really.

“I want to check your injuries.”

Eddie, against his better judgment, cracks the door open wide enough to peer through. “What’s it to you, Dr. Harrington?” he asks, that same question wrapped up in a new package. Why are you here, why do you care, what do you want from me?

Harrington just smiles, and pushes at the door with just enough force that Eddie has no choice but to back up and let his unwanted guest in.

He takes Eddie’s face in his hands, rubbing gentle fingers against each wound, murmuring soothing placations. It works enough that Eddie stands still as Harrington sanitizes and bandages each of his wounds.

“You should ice them after this, okay?”

Eddie nods dumbly because Harrington’s moved on from painfully prodding his face to running his fingers through his hair, checking every inch of his skull for bumps and bruises.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asks.

Eddie hums, relaxing against his will, body slumping into the cupboard behind him as those nimble fingers have their way with him.

“My ribs, maybe,” Eddie murmurs, eyes closing as Harrington’s fingernails scrape against his scalp before he withdraws his fingers.

His eyes snap back open a second later when those same fingers yank his shirt up without asking, warm palms chasing away the chill on his skin as they skirt over his ribcage, applying gentle pressure to whatever Harrington finds. Eddie shivers involuntarily as Harrington bends down, breath puffing against his stomach.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Eddie asks, stuttering over every other word.

He’s clenched up tight enough that his whole body aches with it—spine, jaw, wrists. But then Harrington looks up at him, usually impeccable hair softened by the day and flopping gently into his face. Eddie always assumed his eyes were brown, but they look sort of gold in the shitty fluorescent light of the bathroom.

He’s never been this close to Harrington before.

“Checking your ribs,” he replies, breath puffing against Eddie’s uncovered skin with every word. “Does that hurt?”

And then he just dismisses Eddie in favor of palpitating what must be a nasty bruise. Eddie whines, inexplicably, embarrassingly, before squeaking out a tiny, “no,” when Harrington looks back up at him with his big, worried, puppy-dog eyes.

Eddie’s own words to Carver make a reappearance, flashing red in neon lights inside his empty skull—I bet you’d love him on his knees. He’s on them now, between Eddie’s spread thighs, looking at Eddie’s body with an intensity that’s skinning him alive.

His skull’s not empty now; it’s bursting with half-formed thoughts, and panicked wheezing he hopes is just internal, and through it all, the words run rampant—on his knees, on his knees, on his knees.

Steve Harrington stands up, takes a step back, and smiles at Eddie. “I think they’re just bruised,” he says, seeming not to notice Eddie’s ragged breathing. “We should ice them, too.”

And then he just…walks out of the bathroom like Eddie’s not full to bursting with thoughts and feelings he doesn’t understand. Like it wasn’t Harrington that had dropped them at his feet—on his knees.

*** 

Steve sticks his head into Eddie’s freezer and resists the urge to scream. It’s just—Eddie had been blushing when Steve had looked up from checking his ribs for cracks. Steve’s never seen him blush before, and it’s seared into his brain (the way it’d started from his ears and meandered across his cheeks before slowly spreading its splotchy hue down his neck).

For a second, it was almost like Eddie didn’t hate him.

Steve suppresses the thought. Boys shouldn’t have crushes on straight boys who hate their guts, and letting even the tiniest flutter of hope touch his heart would be stupider still. There’s his silly little notes, and there’s his pining little glances.

He doesn’t need anything else.

“Are…you okay?” Eddie’s hesitant voice comes from behind him.

Abruptly remembering his position, Steve pulls his head out of the freezer and grabs the first bag he sees: a half-full package of frozen peas. He turns to Eddie with the best smile he can manage, holding them up as explanation for the unasked What the hell are you doing? hidden beneath the bemused smile on Eddie’s lips.

“Just finding you some ice, dude,” Steve replies breezily, walking over to drop the bag into Eddie’s hand.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies, walking past Steve to close the freezer he’d left open. Steve winces. “You can like, go now.”

It’s a demand hidden beneath a polite question. Steve’s feet start moving toward the door before he remembers the lump he’d felt on the back of Eddie’s head, and the way his eyes had gone all glassy and dazed in the bathroom as Steve had patched him up.

“Unless you want to call someone else, you’re stuck with me until your uncle gets here.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Steve holds up his hands palm out, forestalling his complaints. “Possible concussion, dude.”

Eddie whines, actually stamping his foot squeakily against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Steve smiles, helplessly endeared, and hates himself for it.

“Why is it your problem if I nod off in my sleep, you don’t even like me.”

The warm feelings flee like they’d never been there at all.

Steve turns his back on Eddie’s petulant frown and stomping feet, unwilling to look him in the eye as the emotions crash through him. Just for a second, he lets his face drop.

“I like you, just fine,” Steve replies, ignoring the little scoff from Eddie in reply.

The trailer’s small and crowded with things on damn-near every surface, but it’s cozy. Steve’s imagined this moment—getting through the Munson’s front door and finally seeing what’s inside. It’s warm, a hot cup of tea, a blanket on a cold night, somewhere to feel safe in.

All Steve feels is cold.

Instead of answering Eddie’s scoff, Steve lets his own little tantrum stomps lead him over to the ratty couch. He sinks down, crossing his legs as he leans back into the cushions, and finally, finally looks at Eddie. He’s still pouting, bottom lip having split open against the pressure of his frown. Steve raises a pointed eyebrow before turning back around to stare at the black of the TV screen.

Eddie groans again, and it takes all his willpower not to turn around, not to let his shoulders curl in as he hears footsteps coming closer. But, all Eddie does is settle onto the other side of the couch and grab the remote.

It’s going to be a long night. 

PART 13

[christabelq]

I can't believe we're halfway through November already. Where is the year going? Anyways, I thought I'd take y'all back to Gotham City with another 🐱CATWOMAN🐱 cosplay pic 📷 I've got a lot to choose from at the mo, but this one jumped out at me. I like the pose and I think I'm doing a pretty good job of channelling the character. True, it's a tad out of focus and you can't really see my shiny new claws, but you can't have everything. As for the story here, I guess it's right before a fight... I'm poised to attack, but giving my opponent a chance to back the hell up before I do. Stay tuned for more cosplay stuff.

Luv, Christabel ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

ko-fi.com/christabelq instagram.com/christabel.simpson/ deviantart.com/christabelq

[emblazons]

"You're gonna slay 'em dead."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S02E09 - The Gate

[catboy-cabin]

sleeptober day 15 - fury

fury too damn late / reason dislocates / and you'll never have to talk about it / never wanna talk about it

i just think that ii & blunt force weapons

also granite my love,,,,,

no text version + reference pic (by aquesartt on tiktok*)

*i yoinked this from pinterest & there's a bunch of pics of this same person reposted there with two different usernames attached for op (aquesartt & notaquesart); i don't know which is more recent/their main account so i went with the one on the pic i used

[mayasdeluca]

That episode was a lot and had so much but overall I thought it was pretty good. That last Marina scene was so many mixed emotions and feelings but we got so much from it. 😭 We FINALLY heard Maya speak Italian and Carina was wearing Maya's SFD shirt!!! I'm so bummed that they did Carina dirty yet again for no good reason and felt it was necessary to have her find out that she can't get pregnant but the idea of using Maya's eggs is definitely intriguing and I do hope they continue that story until the end of the season now and we get to at least see some progress made. I do wonder if any of it will be touched on in a big way in episode 7 now.

The FaceTime scene was adorable too. Maya calling Liam probie and Danielle adding in a 'babe' (bless her) was perfect. The only thing missing was a reaction from Carina to Maya wearing her Class A's. But Maya loves her family so much and it's the cutest thing.

As for the other stuff...the audacity of the writers Emily to write Maya apologizing to Beckett for her part in what she did and then to not have Beckett apologize for literally torturing and bullying her for 6 months??? For dumping fake blood on her in a Halloween episode??? So Beckett's actions are excused and fine but Maya apologizes and this dumbass still doesn't trust her and acts like an absolute fool on the call and then Maya has to DOUBLE DOWN and own up to her part again and he says nothing again for the way he treated her?? That was such a slap in the face it's ridiculous.

I did like how they had Andy acknowledge that Maya is always there for her and the call back to them in the academy but they definitely could have done more with that. I guess it's impossible for Maya to ever get any kind of remorse or apology in return though.

Carina mentioning Andrew was too much for me 😭 Liam deserved to have his Zio Andrea in his life and I'll forever be sad that he doesn't have him.

The obsession the writers have with Ross and Sullivan truly needs to be studied. They will never be the epic love story romance that they continue to try and force on us.

But anyway...

“I didn't want to have a family until you showed me...what a family was.”

[ms-skaterat]

Taskmaster Series 15 Episode 5 - Old Honkfoot

[coldshrugs]

two weeks til my birthday wow

[aprilblossomgirl]

-- p'aof said on twitter that tonight's episode should not be missed. ok i'm seated.

[szfiction]

Maybe he’d been naïve, thinking that once he finally left Dawn Island, he’d run into Sabo in no time. He’d figured everything would just… work out for them. That destiny or whatever would step in and offer them a handout of some kind. He’d stumble across Sabo on his way to achieving his own dreams, and together, they’d finish them off.

Every day, he searches crowds for Sabo’s face, listens intently to catch onto any rumours, uncovers more about slaves that are hidden away in foreign countries and he wonders. Every day, his own desires feel a little emptier, because if Sabo is out there suffering somewhere, then how can he allow himself to grasp at the happiness he’s been searching for?

Hell, even if Sabo’s okay and gleefully travelling with his own crew, knowing that would be enough to make things a whole lot better than they are. He just needs answers.

-

New chapter of Kaleidoscope is now out! Hope you guys enjoy this one, this is the game-changer~ <3

[rawliverandcigarettes]

So Shlee charred himself against the lights, crawled and spun, split and re-stitched, bent and broke apart. The bruises spread on his thighs, and he learned to conceal them with oil-based body paint, working the pole through the winces —relished the pangs as proof that he survived as seen.

---

✨ READ HALFWAY HOME'S CHAPTER 15 HERE! ✨

---

The night Shlee hatches in the trunk of a skycar, an asari watches and cries. She promises he will survive, at all and every cost. Shlee believes her. He stomachs the resentment of his alien sisters forced into hiding with him, and dreams about the stars. But the Milky Way is vast, swirling; painfully interwoven. And when Shlee begins to wonder who he is, who he should be, and what secrets keep this fragile galaxy from splitting apart, perhaps it’s already too late.

(this story is complete; new chapters will be published every Thursday!)

---

Link to my Ao3

Link to Story Presentation Post

Link to the Trigger Warning List

[tiddie-taylor]

I swear we're speedrunning 2023

[seronefada]

Harley found some kids.

Ivy looked up from her book and asked:"Harley, babe I love you. But, who's fucking kids are these, where did you get them?"

Harley: "I found them outside, I thought we could keep them. "

Said kids where actually Teenager's. The older sister with long red hair looked at her, while her younger brother was busy eating all the fruits from the bowl on the table, like some sort of starving bunny.

The older of the two said:" We're sorry miss. My little brother and I where just looking for a place to spent the night. And Dr. Harley offered us a room."

Ivy looked at the two, they looked hunted, chased, sleepless and burned out. The younger was definitely hurt.

Ivy:"curse my soft heart. You can stay. What are your names."

"I'm Jazz and this is my baby brother Danny."

Ivy asked:"what are you doing in Gotham, where are your parents?"

Jazz:" they are busy, we came here on our own."

Harley was at the oven making the kids some hot chocolate and said :" So runaways, why did you run."

Danny looked up and was lying really bad:" We, didn't want, to go to school anymore. So we run away, to open a, food truck."

Ivy:"kid next time just say you're gay. People will believe that way easier."

Jazz:"our parents are kinda mad, there scientists. But it got worse with the years. So I had to get Danny out of there."

Danny offered her an Apple, but he didn't say anything.

Harley came and gave the the hot chocolate:"after hot choco, a shower and some sleep. The world will look better already."

Both took the chocolate, but Ivy saw that Danny was just blowing one time in it and it was cold. Of course Harley had to find them a meta teen on the run.

After the two teens where gone to sleep Ivy looked at her girlfriend:"Harley what are your plans for the kids, should I contact Batman to get them?"

Harley was playing with her blond hair as she smiled charming at her loved:" I thought we could keep them."

Ivy looked at her:"you can't be serious. Danny is an ice meta. He could freeze my plants."

"yeah but what if we don't help them? Batman could make them to Robin's. And Jazz hair is red we just tell people they are your biological kids." explained Harley.

Ivy stared at her:" even if I would say yes, we don't know what would come at us.

The Question was answered halfway, as they where checking on the kids and Danny woke up alarmed with the words:" I'm not a Ghost."

Then he get back to sleep and flew around in the room.

Harley smiled :"Come on Pam you where also thinking about having kids."

Ivy just said:" fine, let's try this they can stay as long as they want. But I'm still not sure about this cover story. Why do they have to be my kids?"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hammarby

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Georgia Stanway x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Georgia's new shirt is horrifying

You stare at her, eyes wide.

Georgia isn't quite sure why you're staring but you are.

You'd come into the locker room this morning with Magda and Pernille and sat in Pernille's cubby like usual.

Unlike the team, you come into the locker room already wearing your training shirt and boots. Pernille had once said that it's easier to get you ready at home then let you change with everyone else.

Georgia's frown deepens the longer you stare at her.

At some point during the time Georgia's been here and the time you've been here, you've slipped away from Pernille's cubby to stand in front of her.

"You feeling okay?" Georgia asks, confusion still seeping into her bones the longer you stare up at her," Is something wrong?"

You bite your lip and point at the shirt she was just folding up.

"Is that an AIK shirt?" You ask.

"Er...yeah?"

You wrinkle your nose up in disgust and turn away, hurrying off like Georgia's just murdered a kitten or something. You duck behind Magda, clinging to her tightly.

"Morsa!" You say, looking halfway to tears," I don't like Georgia anymore!"

"Hey!" Georgia exclaims," What?! I haven't done anything!"

"You have!"

"I haven't!"

"You have!"

"I haven't!"

"Georgia," Pernille pipes up," You're arguing with a child."

"We're not arguing!"

You scoff. "Yes we are!"

"We're not!"

"We are!"

Magda sighs, lifting you up onto her hip. You're getting a bit too old for her to be doing this but she doesn't really care.

"Why don't you like Georgia anymore?"

You shake your head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, you can't just say you don't like Georgia and then not give a reason."

You take a deep breath before pointing accusingly at Georgia. "She came in wearing an AIK shirt!"

Pernille buries her face in her hands. "Oh no."

Magda whirls around. The fond smile she had previously been wearing was contorted into a look of pure horror.

"An AIK shirt?!" She demands and Georgia gets the feeling that she's done something egregious.

"Yeah? What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong-? What's wrong with that?! Are you serious?!"

If Georgia wasn't currently terrified for her life, she'd make a joke about how similar you and Magda clearly are because you've get matching looks of outrage on your faces.

"Now you've set her off," Pernille mutters.

"AIK are shit!"

"Princesse! We don't use that language!"

You give Pernille a petulant look. "Morsa says that I can call AIK shit because they are! She said it's the only time I can use that word."

"She's right!" Magda declares decisively," AIK are shit and I can't believe you've done this! In front of my child?!"

"It's just a shirt!" Georgia sputters," What is going on?!"

"Magda is a Hammarby fan," Pernille explains," And so is Princesse. Both clubs play in Stockholm so..."

Georgia nods. "A City and United situation."

"A little bit."

"I can't believe you've done this!" Magda continues," This is meant to be a safe space! Look at her!"

You're sobbing now and Georgia's ninety percent sure they're crocodile tears but still, they make her feel awful.

"AIK is shit!" You repeat through your tears," Hammarby is better!"

"Hammarby is the best!" Magda says," It's okay, princesse, Georgia didn't mean it. She doesn't understand because she isn't Swedish. We'll help her learn from this."

"You're both so dramatic!" Pernille rolls her eyes, pushing you both out through the door before turning to look at Georgia again. "Don't mind them. This always happens when they find out something related to AIK."

"And the-?" Georgia gestures over her eyes.

"The tears? Yeah, a hundred percent fake. Magda told her it would make more people change their allegiance to Hammarby."

"They have...strong opinions."

Pernille stares at the closed door. "Yeah, Princesse inherited the flair for the dramatic."

Georgia chuckles. "How do you put up with them?"

Pernille gives her a sly smile. "I just don't mention AIK."

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (Epilogue)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Series Masterlist Part Summary: The couple finally finds the happiness they both deserve. Part Warnings: nothing really just implied smut, fluff, and happily ever after

Author's note at the end!

...One year later...

"WE NEED TO LEAVE."

The urgency in his voice carried a subtle tone of exasperation as the words softly left his lips. The urgency wasn't overtly pronounced, but it lingered in the air, urging her to quicken her pace. She focused her attention on the bathroom mirror, hastily slipping into the dress chosen for the occasion of the night.

"Give me five more minutes!"

"We're already five minutes late!"

"And whose fault is that?" she retorted, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

She could almost imagine the incredulous expression on his face from the other room as he responded, "Mine? Really?"

"Who insisted on spending this afternoon watching a documentary about the wonders of deep-sea exploration?" she teased.

"In my defense, it was fascinating," was his immediate reply. "Did you know there are creatures down there that look like they're from another planet?"

"I know, Spencer, we watched it together, remember?"

"You fell asleep halfway through it."

"Well, in my defense—" She paused, struggling with the zipper of her dress. "You were really warm."

His laughter resonated from the other room. "So it's my fault you're taking forever to get ready now?"

"Absolutely, it's a cause-and-effect scenario," she replied, her arms stretching behind her in an attempt to reach the stubborn zipper. A sudden strain and a high-pitched groan escaped her lips. "Ouch!"

His concerned footsteps approached and he appeared at the bathroom doorway. "What's wrong?"

She winced, rubbing the sore spot on her back. "I strained my muscles trying to zip up this dress."

He raised an eyebrow. "Need a hand?"

She shot him a mock glare. "Are you insinuating I can't handle a zipper?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Of course not. But if we want to make it to Rossi's place on time, maybe a little help won't hurt."

She glanced at him from the mirror as his gaze lingered on her dress, tracing the contours that hugged her figure. She noticed the subtle appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the effect the outfit had on him. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she sighed in mock defeat.

"Fine, but no funny business."

He slowly approached her, gently taking the zipper in his fingers. "No funny business."

She felt his presence as he settled behind her, the air carrying a subtle warmth that seemed to dance across her skin. Instead of immediately tending to the zipper, his fingers, gentle and deliberate, traced a tantalizing path along the exposed skin of her back. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow.

"Spence," she breathed out, the name carrying a subtle plea for him to continue or to stop—she wasn't entirely sure which.

"Hmm?"

"I thought we were late."

He smiled, the corners of his lips lifting in a playful yet knowing expression. He held her gaze as he leaned closer to her, brushing a feather-like kiss on her shoulder.

"I believe we can spare a few more minutes," he replied, the timbre of his voice holding a warmth that echoed through the space between them.

She couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "And what, may I ask, do you plan to do with these 'few more minutes'?"

His lips lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer before he pulled back, still maintaining their proximity. "Well, I was thinking of using them to properly appreciate how beautiful you look tonight."

Her cheeks flushed with a combination of flattery and playful embarrassment. "Very smooth."

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin as he spoke, and a teasing glint sparkled in his eyes. "After all, punctuality can sometimes be overrated, don't you think?"

She chuckled. "Coming from someone who likes to be punctual."

"Maybe I've learned a thing or two from you." His fingers traced a gentle pattern on her exposed back, and he murmured, "Besides, Rossi wouldn't mind. We have more important matters to attend to."

She arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "And what might that be, Dr. Reid?"

He pushed the strap of her dress down her shoulder, his touch gentle yet filled with a subtle urgency. His fingers traced a delicate path along her skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

"You," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

As his lips met the exposed curve of her shoulder, a soft sigh escaped her. "Baby... are you really trying to have sex right now?"

"Why wait when the opportunity presents itself?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his sudden change of mind. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, a boyish charm lighting up his features. "Guilty as charged."

Before she could respond, he dipped his head and sucked on a spot right below her ear. She breathed out a moan and leaned back into him, giving him better access. When she felt him tug down her dress impatiently, her rational thoughts flew out the window.

"Fine," she agreed, letting her dress fall around her feet. "But make it quick."

As if to answer her challenge, he scooped her up in his arms with unexpected strength. Her laughter mixed with a surprised gasp as he carried her towards the bedroom, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. Quick was a concept they never quite understood when it came to their sexual needs, but maybe they could entertain the idea, starting from now.

They were an hour late.

Fifty-six minutes, according to Spencer, because apparently, he measured the exact time it took for them to arrive at Rossi's house.

Although calling his place a house seemed like a mockery considering how big the property was. It was more like a mansion, and even when Spencer had taken her here a few times ever since the early stages of their relationship, Rossi's place never seemed to seize her amazement.

The host of the night didn't even bat an eyelash when they arrived, he didn't mind their tardiness. The other team members, however, couldn't resist making comments about the couple's late arrival, and the teasing became even more persistent when the girls cornered her at one point in the night.

Penelope raised an eyebrow with an impish grin. "What took you two so long?"

She wasn't sure how to answer the question. Should she just be honest and tell her she was being fucked in different positions? Penelope didn't seem to be the type to judge, granted, the first time she was introduced to her, the perky blonde woman didn't have much filter on her mouth to begin with. But she also didn't want to discuss her sex life with her boyfriend's colleagues.

She contemplated her response, weighing the balance between honesty and maintaining privacy. Penelope's inquisitive gaze lingered, and she decided on a response that offered some truth without delving into the details.

"We lost track of time," she replied instead, keeping it intentionally vague.

Emily leaned in, a smirk playing on her lips. "Is that so?"

She laughed, her cheeks flushing even more. "It's not what you think."

JJ joined in the teasing, "Well, someone is glowing tonight. I hope you at least have a good excuse for being fashionably late."

"Actually, we were discussing the intricacies of deep-sea exploration."

The girls exchanged amused glances, and Penelope quirked an eyebrow. "Deep-sea exploration, huh? Is that the code for something?"

She laughed. "It's about a documentary."

They exchanged a knowing look, clearly unconvinced by her vague explanation. Despite the embarrassment, she couldn't deny the warmth that spread within her. It was a strange yet comforting feeling, knowing that they had something special that others could only speculate about. When Penelope and Emily left to refill their drinks, JJ leaned in closer to her.

"We're sorry," she insisted. "Spencer never had a serious relationship before, we couldn't stop teasing."

She smiled appreciatively at JJ's sincerity. "No harm done. I understand it comes with the territory, especially with Spencer."

JJ smiled, her expression softening. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay with it."

"I can handle a bit of teasing. Besides, it's all in good fun, right?"

JJ nodded, a friendly smile on her face. "Absolutely. He's a great guy, and we're just happy to see him happy."

She followed JJ's gaze, watching Spencer engage with the kids. His eyes lit up with childlike excitement as he performed a silly magic trick, and the children erupted into giggles. The older child, who initially seemed to act as if he was at a big boy age, now wore a huge grin and eagerly urged Spencer to perform another trick.

She couldn't help but smile as she witnessed his effortless connection with them. It was a sight that made her heart swell with affection. A year ago, she could only dream of such moments. The happiness that Spencer brought into her life was beyond her wildest expectations. Not only was she in a happy and steady relationship, she was welcomed into his world.

The memory of visiting Spencer's mother, a year prior, resonated in her thoughts. Witnessing his patience and tenderness with his mom had moved her to tears. It was a moment that spoke volumes about the depth of their connection and the kindness embedded in his character.

Now, a year later, even when she had interacted with his teammates before, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude. Their presence made her feel as if she was embraced as an additional family member to this tight-knit group. The realization touched her deeply, and her eyes lingered on Spencer with so much affection, reaching a point where her heart felt like it was on the verge of bursting.

"He's really good with kids," JJ suddenly said, bringing her back to reality.

She smiled, a warm feeling coursing through her. "Yeah, he is. It's amazing to watch."

JJ nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Have you ever thought of having your own?"

The question hung in the air, and she took a moment to consider it. The idea of starting a family with Spencer had crossed her mind, but discussing it with someone else made it feel more tangible, more real. She took a moment, her gaze drifting back to Spencer, still enchanting the kids with his magic tricks.

"I... I think about it sometimes," she admitted, her voice soft.

JJ's smile widened, and there was a glint of genuine happiness in her eyes. "You two would make wonderful parents."

The compliment warmed her heart. The thought of a family with Spencer, navigating the joys and challenges of parenthood together, painted a vivid and hopeful picture in her mind. Yet, it was also a conversation they hadn't explicitly delved into.

She looked back at Spencer, his laughter mingling with the children's joy, creating a symphony of happiness. The idea of sharing these moments with their own children felt like a dream she hadn't dared to fully embrace. His gaze suddenly met hers and he waved in response.

JJ leaned in, her voice softer. "Whenever you're ready for it, just know you have a whole team here ready to support you both."

A mix of emotions swirled within her. Spencer, seemingly sensing her emotional state, excused himself from the impromptu magic show and approached them.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed with concern.

JJ gave her a knowing look before patting Spencer on the back. "Just sharing some girl talk, don't worry."

He quirked an eyebrow but didn't press further. JJ slowly excused herself and now that they were alone again, he pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She leaned into his comforting embrace, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, I'm more than okay." Her eyes then trailed over to JJ and her kids again. "They seem to adore you."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. "Well, I adore them too."

A comfortable silence settled between them. She wasn't sure it was the right moment to have this discussion, but she found herself voicing her curiosity, even when her heart was beating fast. "Have you ever thought of... having kids?"

Spencer's gaze softened as he considered the question and she waited with bated breath for his reply.

"I used to, but then I've always been focused on my work and solving cases." He paused, his fingers gently tracing circles on her back. "Although lately, I find myself thinking about it more, especially with you."

She let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding. "With me?"

"Who else would I be thinking of having a family with?"

She couldn't help but smile at his response, a warmth blooming in her chest. "Fair point."

His thumb continued its gentle movements on her back. "The idea of creating a home together, it—” he let out a sigh. “It sounds like a dream."

Her heart skipped a beat. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It really does."

They stood there, wrapped in the warmth of shared dreams and the quiet excitement of the future. But then her smile faltered, a subtle cloud of worry casting a shadow on her face. Spencer sensed the shift and gently tugged her. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes reflected a hint of concern. "I... I haven't had my period this month."

His own brows furrowed as he performed a quick calculation in his head. "Of course, you haven't, you're due—" his words trailed off as his gaze met hers. "...two weeks ago."

She wasn't sure which one was more surprising—his knowledge of her menstrual cycle or the fact that she was two weeks late. The weight of the situation settled in, and just as anxiety started to swell within her, Spencer's face transformed into a wide grin.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Spence—I... what if...?"

His grin widened, eyes filled with a mix of excitement and joy. "What if we're going to be parents?"

She threw him a ludicrous look. "How are you not panicking?"

He laughed. "Didn't we discuss how great it would be to start a family?"

"Well, sure, somewhere in the future, not now."

He led her away from the festive atmosphere surrounding them to a quieter area out on the back porch. When they were finally alone, he stood in front of her, making sure his body was shielding her distraught face.

"Hey," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands, "This could be a wonderful surprise. We just talked about it, right?"

She nodded, but uncertainty still lingered in her eyes. "Yeah, but it's so sudden. I didn't expect it to happen a minute later after we discussed it. What if we're not ready? What if—"

"No one is ever fully ready for a significant change, but we have each other, and we'll figure it out,” he cut in, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "But... w-what if I'm not a good mom?"

His gaze softened, and he cradled her face in his hands. "Are you kidding? You'll be an amazing mom. I've seen the kindness, strength, and love in you. Those are the qualities that make a great parent."

Her heart swelled at his words. She sniffled, a small smile breaking through. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

A sense of calm washed over her as she absorbed his words, holding him closer. It was scary, yet nothing was certain yet, and there was no use in her worrying. He gently wiped away a tear she wasn't even aware of.

"We'll take it one step at a time. And no matter what happens, we have each other and a lot of people who care about us."

Her eyes traveled towards the group of people behind the glass window. The same people who had saved her life, the people who took care of her, the people who embraced her with open arms.

She slowly nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, and so much affection. "Okay," she whispered.

"You know I love you, right?"

She softly smiled, a tender warmth enveloping her. Her thoughts traveled to the first time he confessed his love for her, remembering how flustered and embarrassed he had been. Now, those three words came effortlessly, carrying a depth that only time and shared experiences could carve.

"I do," she whispered, her gaze lingering on him. "And I love you too."

He smiled affectionately. "We'll get a test pack on the way home."

He then brushed a strand of hair away from her face and leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The irony of her initial thoughts about how wrong it was to be involved with him crossed her mind. The circumstances that once cast shadows of guilt over her feelings now seemed to dissolve, replaced by an overwhelming sense that everything was right.

Their bodies melded together seamlessly, and the way his lips brushed over hers felt nothing short of perfect. She couldn't help but feel that what initially seemed like the wrong path had led them to this moment. It was the right kind of wrong—a beautiful contradiction that had crossed their lives together in ways they could have never predicted.

And the two lines greeting them later that night were evidence of how right everything was going to be.

.

Author's note

When I started this series, my goal was to give him the happy ending he deserves and a proper love interest. One that had a back story, one that clearly didn’t die, and one that would make him a dad! I wanted to portray a story as if you were watching a Spencer-centric plot on the show. (Although with the amount of smut here, I doubt it could be aired)

And with that being said, I apologize for any inaccuracy of the crime/mystery plot. Although it's not perfect, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out throughout the eight months this story went on. Yep, EIGHT MONTHS. This was my very first post on this blog and I'm deeply attached to it.

So thank you for reading, commenting, sharing, interacting, and just accepting me and my ideas. It's also safe to say that I won't be writing another series in the near future, but I will still be posting other things. 

Again, thank you so much. I love each and every one of you💕

.

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@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @busy-buzzing @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @additi @donttrustlove @notahappystan @daisiesfor-mylove @pinkpantheris @jamieeboulos @thegeniusreider @bxtchopolis @kr-1-sta @emotionalsassqueen @shqwqrma @super-nerd22 @violetvsworld

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[reiderwriter]

♣️ To Warm a Lonely Night ♣️

Chapter 6 of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Prev. Chapter || Next Chapter

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: With a few days of leave ahead of you, you wake up in Spencer's apartment with absolutely no plans to leave. All in the pursuit of regaining your memory, of course.

Warnings: none, but there is one sexually explicit-ish sentence at the end (which may or may not be a spoiler for the next chapter, who knows 👀).

A/N: Ahh! I can't believe we're halfway through! This one is mainly fluff, and I hope you love it because it's building to something more next Chapter tee hee. It's a bit later of an upload today because I've been so busy at work, so please forgive me lol 🙏 And please, please, PLEASE let me know in the comments/reblogs/through an ask what you think about it! It'd would make my week 🩷

True to his word, Spencer provided you with a toothbrush, toothpaste, wet tissues to remove your make-up with, a generous amount of pajama options, and a warm bed. You had shyly accepted everything and readied yourself for bed in a matter of minutes, half of you cursing your stupidity at landing in this situation and the other half of you jumping for joy at being back in the same bed as him.

He was right about there being a possibility that the two of you jumping into bed together - again - could jog some memories for you. The only solid memory you had of your marriage was, after all, waking up the day after. So you’d thrown on the plaid pajama bottoms and oversized sweatshirt that surely must’ve been big on him too, and slunked back into his bedroom.

He was already there of course, folding down the covers to his bed and climbing in, trying to make it seem more comfortable and appealing by removing the stacks of books that were strewn across it.

“Sorry, don’t get much use out of that side of the bed,” he said, noticing your eyes on him at that moment.

“You don’t? After everything you said, I assumed that you had… frequent visitors.” You looked up at his face to gauge his reaction, delighted by the flush of color that greeted you there.

He cleared his throat and turned away, shelving another set of books. “It’s not… I’m not that great at picking up women if you hadn’t already guessed that, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, you managed to get me to marry you in the span of less than three hours, Spencer, so I’d say you’re plenty good at it.”

“That was the alcohol, though.”

“It wasn’t.” You let the thought hang in the air between you, having mumbled it so quietly you weren’t sure if he even heard you. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“I mean, can you imagine if some random guy had tried to pick me up and marry me this weekend? Hotch would’ve had to arrest me. Or worse.” You laughed a little to ease the tension of your sudden almost-confession. What the hell were you thinking, blurting out something like that?

“Thank god you got me, then, right?” Spencer smiled back at you, sitting up on the edge of the bed facing you.

“Yeah. Thank god.” You moved towards him then, awkwardly asking which side you should sleep on, and he quickly moved over for you, letting you climb up into the bed as he returned to the door to shut it and turn the lights off.

You listened to his footsteps as he returned to the bed, pulling the covers up and over himself, trying not to confuse his movements with your heavy heartbeat. He didn’t reach out to you, and so you didn’t reach out to him, the two of you awkwardly facing each other in bed, not touching in even the smallest of places.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

–X–

You hoped that you would wake up tangled up in him, that his arms would be wrapped around you, his legs buried deep between your own. You hoped that his breath would be warm on your neck, that he would take the plunge and give you a good morning kiss, and that he would pull you closer into him, suggesting that the two of you not move for another hour at least.

Instead, you woke alone, the bedsheets still warm as you heard the sounds of running water soundtrack your morning. Spencer was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to wake you.

Of course, this was his apartment, and you knew exactly where it was since your brain had finally kicked into gear two minutes into consciousness, but the overwhelming disappointment had you almost frustrated to tears.

So much for trying to jog the memories of your wedding.

You cautiously climbed out of bed after hearing the shower switch off, following the dying trail of steam to the bathroom just as he emerged from within.

“Y/N. You’re awake, good morning.” He greeted you, almost too naturally for a man wrapped in nothing but a white towel. You stared at him a minute too long, your gaze raking down his body, doing everything it could to deny your brain's pleas to pleases look back at his fucking face, for god’s sake.

“Sorry, forgot to bring clothes, not used to this sharing a space thing,” he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot a little, before giving you one of those tight-lipped smiles you loved seeing.

“Shit, um, sorry, I’ll just head back to the bedroom.” You start walking in that direction, then automatically change my mind. “No, you need to get clothes, I’ll stand here.” You nodded at that last decision, sticking by it and boring a hole into the floor with your rapid attention to it,

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair as he passed you on his way back to his own room, leaving you alone with your already sinful thoughts, to gently rest yourself against the wall and convince yourself that you could persist through this temptation.

He emerged a few minutes later, and, with some grace and fucking decorum finally, you looked up at his eyes and started talking cohesively.

“Spencer, why didn’t you wake me? We were supposed to see if this could jog a memory for either of us right, that’s the whole reason I stayed over.”

“Sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Spencer, you have an eidetic memory,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you waited for his real answer, blocking the doorway to the rest of his apartment with a stern look.

“Okay, I give up. You just looked too… Too happy. Resting there tucked into my arm. I didn’t want to wake you up, because I’ve seen how you get on cases after you’ve had only a couple hours of sleep and I don’t want to be on the other end of that.”

You laughed at him then, not knowing whether his words were truthful or not, and trying your best not to profile him.

“Would you mind if…Spencer, would you mind if I stayed a little longer?” You grabbed his hand and held it as you said the words, trying not to use the way his body stiffened to inform any decisions you were about to make.

“What for?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“We only have seven days, right? And, let’s be honest, most of them are going to be spent on some case or the other. I was hoping we could spend these precious few moments free from work trying to get our memories back.” You smiled up at him hopeful, squeezing his hand just a little.

“I, um… Sure. I have some tickets to a thing this weekend, though, but I can cancel.” Your heart jumped into your stomach and your face dropped as you did your best to backpedal.

“No, wait, Spencer, if you have plans, that’s okay, I can go home.”

“It was just this stupid book fair thing. It’s okay, I didn’t even have anyone to go with.” You almost laughed at his obliviousness.

“Spencer, it’s not stupid, and now you have someone to go with.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Your wife, now where is it?”

–X–

The book fair had turned out to be an accidentally amazing first date. Which was, you’d realized after driving home to change clothes and freshen up, exactly what it was going to be. A date. Another - accidental - date.

He’d picked you up a half hour later, and together you’d driven the 45 minutes to the fair. It was more of a book jumble sale, a collection of vendors, antique dealers, indie bookshops, and exhibitions coming together to celebrate vintage, used, and second-hand books. Spencer was excited, of course, but you felt like a kid in a candy store, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every special edition, basking in the smell of old books, and desperately seeking out the most obscure titles you could find.

You’d made a game out of it with Spencer, sharing a laugh over titles including “Ducks and How To Make Them Pay,” by W. Cook and “An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting; with Proper Rules for the Exercise of that Pleasant Art,” by Jane Collier. Walking through the aisles of stalls, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, not letting yourself think too hard about it.

You’d probably held his hand at some point on your wedding night, you thought to yourself, so maybe it would help. Your justifications were unwarranted, though, as you knew you weren’t letting him go until you absolutely had to.

“Spencer, look at that!” You gasped excitedly, pulling him over to a stall decorated in an array of plushies, some old and worn, some newer, showcasing children’s books from the last century. He trailed after you with a stumble, your excitement having pulled him a little too quickly, his long limbs not able to move as gracefully as you’d somehow managed to.

“Oh my god, isn’t this adorable?” You asked him, squeezing his hand a little bit as you perused the titles. Titles you remembered from your own childhood were there: Judy Bloom, the Babysitters Club, and some Enid Blyton. You talked his ear off about each childhood memory you had with each of the books when you’d read them, asking if he’d read them, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited about books for some reason,” you apologized to the kind-looking old man running the store, shyly flushing at the run-on conversation you’d been having in front of him.

“It’s fine, my dear, isn’t that why we’re all here? To be excited about books?” He smiled as he looked at you over his glasses, and you pulled Spencer further down the table, noticing that as you went further to the left, the books seemed to get older. You spotted it then, wedged tightly between two piles of other children’s classics, but you pulled it out swiftly, still not dropping Spencer’s hand.

“Spencer look! Anne of Green Gables! I loved this book as a kid, it’s been like 20 years since I last read it.” You beamed up at him, and he smiled down at you as well.

“I’ve read it, too, though only a few years back, I’ll admit. I went through a phase of reading a lot of children’s books after Henry was born to see which would be the best gifts to get him.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah. Got him a whole box set, but I’m not sure if he’s read any of them yet.”

“Perfect, then this one’s for me.” You said quickly, before turning back to the vendor and asking him how much for the book. He gave you the price, a reasonable one for a vintage book. Before you could pull out your money to pay, though, Spencer had dropped your hand and pulled out his own wallet, handing over the money before you could even insist he didn’t have to.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know. I wanted to.” The look he gave you had your stomach doing somersaults, as you felt the blood race to your face.

“That’s one very sweet boyfriend you’ve got yourself there, my dear,” the old man said, handing the book back over, having wrapped it, and placed it in a paper bag. Before you could stutter out an explanation, Spencer was sending you further into a tailspin with his own reply.

“I’m her husband, actually. We’re newlyweds.”

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.” You looked down at your left hand then, before Spencer wrapped it in his again. You’d taken the ring off after you’d woken up that first day, and not wanting any questions about it, you’d placed it in your bag and then in your jewelry box when you finally returned home. You had shown it to Penelope though, in a romcom-drunk fit of giggles.

With another thank you, you quickly left the stall behind, this time Spencer being the one to take action and pull you excitedly onward.

“What did you do with that ring?” He asked, genuinely curious. “And where did we even get it?”

“It’s in a jewelry box at my house, I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone asking questions, you know.” You felt a small tension between you then, as you suddenly acknowledged the circumstances of your relationship. You were doing the adult version of “playing house,” and neither of you was sure when the game was going to come to an end.

“And no memories, remember? We probably picked it up on the side of the road somewhere, or maybe it’s a souvenir from the chapel?”

“No, I only caught a glimpse of it, and it didn’t look like costume jewelry or something we could get for cheap.” You looked at him puzzled before an idea came to you.

“What if I send a picture of it to Penelope? See if she can come up with anything for us. I’ll tell her one of my college roommates is getting engaged and she’s bragging about the ring, so I wanted to know what it’s worth?” It was a white lie, of course. You still weren’t sure about telling Spencer about Penelope being your witness, not sure how it would go over with him.

“You think that’ll work?”

“Oh yeah, Penelope’s big on girl drama. I think she actually coined the phrase ‘I support women’s rights and I support women’s wrongs.’”

“No, Y/N, about the ring, do you think she’d be able to find it?”

“Spencer, you’ve worked with Penelope Garcia for over a decade, and you’re still doubting her?”

–X–

True to form, Penelope found the ring for you in under 24 minutes, along with a list of stores in the immediate Las Vegas area where it could be purchased, and a follow-up mention that the transaction was nowhere in either of your credit card histories, so you must’ve paid cash.

Which only begged further questions, because where the HELL had you gotten 30k in cash?

“Spencer, holy shit.” You shouted out as he pulled up to his apartment, the two of you finally calling it quits at the book fair after you noticed the sun was beginning to set.

“What? Did you not want to come back here with me, I can drive you home if you want?”

“No, Spencer it’s not that, it’s the ring. It retails for $30,000, Penelope found it. Where the hell did we get that much cash?”

“Cash?”

“For a transaction that large, we must’ve paid cash, right? I haven’t had any cold calls from my credit card company asking me to watch my back, and I certainly don’t have that amount in my regular bank accounts.”

“Oh, right. Well, we were in Vegas.” He shrugged and exited the car, but something about the words rang in your head a little as you followed him in, and you gasped realizing what it was.

“That’s it, Spencer! We went to a casino, we must have! You did your card trick magic and whatever and then boom! Wedding ring!” You smiled at the discovery as he pushed open the door to the apartment building for you, letting you bask in your discovery.

“It’s not magic, really, it’s just math.” You gave his arm a light punch at the stupid words and followed him back up to his apartment.

“Well, then, I want to do a lot more math with you, Doctor Reid.” You wiggled your eyebrows a little, and he burst into laughter in front of you, having finally reached the door to his unit.

Pushing the door open, he left the doorway empty for you to make your decision. Were you really going to follow him back into his apartment again? After making yourself a temporary guest the night before, and forcing the man to spend the entire day with you, you didn’t want to push your luck, but oh god how you wanted him to invite you to stay and never leave. Is this why people got married?

“After you, Mrs. Reid.” His words made the decision for you, and you stepped over the threshold swiftly, letting his hand on the small of your back guide you.

“Since we had takeout last night, I was maybe thinking I could cook today? That is, unless you wanted to go home?” He muttered the words a little shyly, and you found yourself squirming at his cuteness, pushing down the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“Yeah, I could eat.” Was all you managed before he pulled you into his kitchen and started preparing the pasta dish Rossi had taught you all to make only weeks prior.

–X–

You finished off the pasta quickly and just sat together talking for a while before he returned to the kitchen again for a second and bought out a bottle of wine and two mismatched wine glasses.

“A lecturer got me this when I guest lectured in their class last year, but I don’t drink that much. Do you want to share it with me?” You nodded and grabbed the glasses from his hands, letting him prepare the drinks for you.

“This is kind of like the bar, right? All the books, and now the drinking. It could probably lead to some memories, right?”

“Yeah, it probably could.” He held his drink out and you chimed your glass against his, finally taking a sip as he returned to his seat next to you. At some point, you had migrated from the dining table to the sofa, back in the same seats you’d occupied the night before.

“Let’s play a game,” you said, taking another sip for confidence as he turned to look at you with a questioning stare.

“I have a pack of cards and a chess board, but I’ll warn you I’m not the most fun to play with-”

“Not that type of game, Spencer. I mean like… twenty questions or something?”

“Oh, right, Um, how exactly do you play twenty questions?”

“Is that your first question?”

“Is that yours?”

“See you’re already great at it.” He rolled his eyes at you and shifted himself closer to you on the couch, letting his hand rest gently behind your head. A breeze blew through the room, and you shivered slightly, huddling closer to him, too.

“Okay, so question 1. What’s your favorite book?”

“War and Peace. Or at least it’s the book I reread the most often. What about you?"

“Probably something by Austen. There’s just something about an Austen hero that has me melting.” You let your hand trail up his leg, and you saw him drop his gaze to follow it’s path. “Your turn, Spence.”

“Oh, right… So, what… what is your dream date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a trip to a cute cafe or… I don’t know, a book fair?” He laughed at that, and you asked your next question.

“Did you think you’d ever get married like this?” You took a deep breath after asking it, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer to that.

“No. I didn’t… I guess I didn’t ever think I would get married. I’ve been alone this long, you know, it seemed that I’d be alone forever, you know.” The words cracked your heart, and you let your hand fall from his thigh to his hand instead. “I’m sure you didn’t so I won’t waste my question on that.”

You laughed a little before answering, “Yeah, I… I didn’t expect it to happen that way. I was picturing more church, white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and growing so old together that we die like that old couple in The Notebook.”

“You want kids?” He asked, almost a little too quickly to be casual about it.

“Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?” Your heartbeat burst into your ears as you let the question sit between you, Spencer considering the question for a while before speaking again.

“I didn’t think about it before… with everything going on with my mom, I guess I was a little afraid about passing on my problems to a small child, but…” He let his head hang for a second, before grabbing his drink again and taking another sip.

“But now what?”

“I don’t know I just… I think it would be really nice. I love spending time with Henry, and Jack, but it’s different when it’s your own, right? Someone to make the world better for.”

“That’s a really beautiful way to put it, Spencer.” You smiled at him, and he matched your gaze, returning your smile. Your game was left abandoned between you then, the questions fizzling out as you just sat, halfway to being in his arms, and looked at him.

“It’s getting late again. And you drank, too, you should probably stay here again tonight.”

“I probably should.”

“And we should probably go to bed now, you never know when we’re going to get called in on an emergency case again.”

“You’re probably right.”

You talked your way around in circles there on his couch, but when you finally crawled into bed together, neither of you feigned the distance of the night before, instantly reaching out to hold each other as your breaths synchronised into shallow breaths.

–X–

Frustratingly though, he was gone again when you woke. You stretched yourself out on his bed, just to be sure, but he was gone. You found him this time in the kitchen, though, making you breakfast.

“Good morning, Spencer.” You walked up to him, grabbing him from behind and letting your head rest on his back, no longer shy with your physical affection. Well, still a little shy. You hadn’t kissed him again yet, and you had no plans to, waiting to see if he’d go that extra step all by himself.

“Good morning. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, and honestly, that pasta dish from yesterday is the only thing I really know how to do, so I hope you like pancakes?”

“I’m in love with pancakes, Spencer.”

“That’s a weird way to put it, but great.” You cursed yourself and pulled away from him, grabbing some plates from his cupboards for the two of you. You settled down to eat together, and before you knew it, the morning was drawing to a close.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” He asked you, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom as you brushed your teeth.

“Plans? You want… you want to spend today together as well?” The question had taken you off-guard. You really thought you’d overstayed your welcome, but here he was, asking what was next.

“Yeah, if that’s… if that’s okay with you. You still don’t remember much, right?”

“Right. But, uh, I was kind of planning on running errands today. Laundry, grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions. It’s not going to be like yesterday.”

“Well, then I guess we’re running errands. You need to drop by your house to pick up clothes?” You nodded your reply, finally washing the toothpaste from the side of your mouth.

“Perfect. You can get ready and we’ll go from there.”

–X–

A couple of hours later and a drive to the nearest supermarket, you were surprised at how true to his words Spencer was. He’d followed you to the dry cleaners, and helpfully advised you on which items were best hand-washed vs. laundered by taking a look at their material percentages. You’d accompanied him to his opticians, where he picked up the refill for his contact lenses - while wearing the eyeglasses that you secretly found very, very hot. And now here you were, the picture of domestic bliss in the aisles of a supermarket, arguing over which milk you should buy.

“What if we get called on a case? You don’t want bad dairy in your fridge for a week, trust me.”

“Spencer, I’m telling you, I’ll use it. I drink like a liter of tea a day, and I like mine pretty light.”

“Okay, but it’s your contaminated fridge, not mine.” You scoffed and laughed at him again as he pushed the shopping cart from behind you, trapping you between his body and the handle.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, turning around to face him as he leaned closer.

“What? I like pushing the cart.”

“You like pushing my buttons. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the errands today?”

“I tried to help. In fact, I offered some very sound advice on which milk to buy, but I was heartlessly ignored, and now I’m pushing the cart.”

“Okay then, Mr. Tragic Hero. Fruit aisle next, please. I’m going to buy enough perishable goods to really piss you off.”

The stares you got in the supermarket were worth it for that small moment of happiness with Spencer, gently tickling your sides as you practically ran through the supermarket with him, not caring that your groceries haul was about to look like an ingredients challenge on Hell’s Kitchen. Or maybe Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares instead.

He was there next to you, and he was smiling. That’s all you really wanted for that moment.

–X–

After a day of errands, pulling up to your house left an almost empty feeling in your stomach. The groceries had been your last stop, but it had taken you almost two hours to complete them just because of the sheer chaos you’d caused between the two of you, your multiple faux-stand-offs over food choices. You’d since argued over instant coffee brands, apples vs. oranges, the longevity of a pack of Doritos, and more. It was probably the most romantic second date you’d ever been on.

He turned off the engine of the car and immediately began grabbing things from the trunk, grabbing paper bags to deposit within your house. He managed to get all of them in his arms before you even unclipped your seatbelt.

“Spencer, let me help, you can’t carry all of that on your own.”

“I can. Just unlock the door, it’s fine.”

“Okay, but if you break something, you’re driving back to the store alone to replace it.” That was all you said as you led him into the tiny apartment you called home.

“You can put the bags on the counter, I’ll unpack everything later.” He followed your directions quickly, then stepped back into the passage, readying himself by the door to leave.

“Thanks for staying with me again today, Spencer. I really enjoyed having company.”

“Me too. Even if…Y/N, even after all of this is finished, do you think we could… do this more often?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you a bit closer to him in the doorway. You let yourself fall into his arms, not caring which of your neighbors was suddenly out and about to witness this.

“I think I’d like that.” Your lips were inches from each other now, and you stilled yourself completely, not wanting any sudden movements to get between you and the kiss you had been begging for silently since Saturday night. He tilted your head up and leaned down, closing the gap as his arms tightened around you.

His lips were sweet, warm with a hint of the sweetness from the morning's pancakes still, and you wanted more of him. But as his lips slid over yours again, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth, your stomach dropped with an intense feeling of deja vu.

All of a sudden you felt his hands on your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his cock buried deep inside of you, and his voice low and husky in your ear.

With the force of your entire will, you pushed him away with the whole weight of your body and slammed the door shut in his face.

You had successfully restored part of your memory.

--X--

🏷 Pt. 1 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil @shqwqrma

[faithschaffer]

I can't believe we're already halfway through Swordtember!

Day 15- Sword of the Enchanter

Sword- The Faceted Fighter

The handle of this blade is designed to slot in and out different gemstones. These gemstones are enchanted, imbibing the sword with their different elemental and magic abilities. They can be deftly switched mid-battle for an element of surprise.