#derek berry

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

I got on a plane this morning bound for Kansas City to discuss Garver's plans there and the strategy for how we are going to make it happen. We took this picture to send to Amber, the only Comm Team leader not with us. She responded with instructions not to crash because she doesn't want to have to run the team without us.

We had a long day, but I liked Kansas City a lot -- probably because of the trip Mom and I took here to celebrate my 40th birthday -- and I'm excited about telling the story of our people there.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 8.6.2024 - 8.28am.

[harveyguillensource]

Official FX set photos from WWDITS season 5 episode 10, Exit Interview.

[krispyweiss]

Dickey Betts Dead at 80

- “The monuments that he helped to create for Southern rock will never be replicated,” the Marshall Tucker Band says

Dickey Betts, the Allman Brothers Band co-founder who was ousted from the group in 2000, has died, the guitarist’s family said.

Betts, 80, died April 18 at his home in Florida. No cause was given.

Betts’ family remembered the musician as a “legendary performer, songwriter, bandleader and family patriarch” in their statement.

“His loss will be felt worldwide,” they said.

With Betts’ death, drummer Jaimoe is the last surviving original Allman Brother.

“Sad, sad day,” Tinsley Ellis said. “Rest in peace, Dickey Betts.”

Betts co-founded the ABB in 1969, establishing a 12-string conversation with fellow guitarist Duane Allman and quickly became “an essential component of the Allman Brothers Band’s improvisatory magic,” as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame said in a eulogy.

“One of the best to ever do it,” Tedeschi Trucks Band said of Betts. “Rest easy, Dickie.”

After Duane’s death, Betts, as lone axeman, was the country to Gregg Allman’s blues, giving the band its biggest hit with “Ramblin’ Man” and imbuing the ABB songbook with epic instrumentals such as the jazzy “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” inspired by a tombstone in the cemetery where Gregg and Duane Allman now lie, and the countrified “Jessica,” inspired by Betts’ daughter. And Betts’ 1974 LP Highway Call is an album anyone who calls themselves a fan of bluegrass or Americana music must have in their collection.

“Dickie more than anyone had an impressionable impact in shaping and defining the genre of music that has come to be known as Southern rock,” the Outlaws said in a statement. “The influence of his musicianship and songwriting skills are immeasurable and his passing marks the end of an era.”

The Marshall Tucker Band echoed the Outlaws, saying: “The monuments that (Betts) helped to create for Southern rock will never be replicated.”

After a time, the ABB returned to its two-guitar format and Betts played alongside such masters as Dan Toler, Warren Haynes, Jack Pearson and Derek Trucks before he and the group split acrimoniously in 2000.

“He was passionate in life, be it music, songwriting, fishing, hunting, boating, golf, karate or boxing,” the Allman Brothers said in a statement attributed to the “band, family and crew.”

“Dickey was all in on and excelled at anything that caught his attention. … Play on, Brother Dickey, you will be forever remembered and deeply missed.”

4/18/24

[a-map-of-gays]

Actually the difference is that Laszlo is Bi and Nandor is Pan. Hope this helps 👍

[katyobsesses]

The worst part of outlining a fic as a multishipper is trying to decide what ships to have 😭

[adamwatchesmovies]

John Wick Chapter 3 - Parabellum (2019)

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum features some of the series’ most inventive, most satisfyingly kill-happy scenes. Its plot also tends to get in the way, particularly during the middle. At 131 minutes, this relatively straightforward story is far too long, though the sequel - set to be released in 2023 - could change that. If all of the new characters introduced throughout pay off later, this film may seem less bloated than it does now.

Excommunicated from the secret society of assassins whose operatives are everywhere, John Wick (Keanu Reeves) is now on the run with a $14 million bounty on his head. Seeking to escape the innumerable mercenaries on his tail, he begins cashing in favors from his former allies. Unfortunately, even those only take him so far.

It’s hard to pick which of this film’s many action scenes is the best. There’s one set in a library where John uses a thick tome in a way you’ve never seen before. This man really can use ANYTHING to fill another grave. If I were to choose, I think I’d have to go with another sequence, however. It’s set in a museum full of knives, axes, and other edge weapons. The choreography as the glasses cases are broken and the weapons are taken out is unbelievable. It’s so good you can’t turn away, even when someone gets their brutal comeuppance.

There’s more to Parabellum than just seeing John execute wave after wave of killers, however. There’s a plot that digs deeper into the world of the High Table. We learn more about who John was before he met Helen. More of the inner workings of the society are shown through “The Adjudicator” (Asia Kate Dillon) and several assassins who want to take down John… because they’re huge fans of his. It confirms our suspicions: the Continental is merely a piece of this huge society that operates as a world of its own. From the tattoo-clad Operators to the Concierge of the Continental Hotel (Lance Reddick) to the Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne) and his legions of turncoats dressed up like vagrants on every street corner, it makes so little sense it makes perfect sense.

One of the defining features of the series has been its New York location. John is always on the run - either chasing or escaping from someone. This means we’ve visited many of the city’s landmarks and several have been given a new identity within this world. This is one of the reasons why an extended sequence where John travels to Casablanca is off-putting. Though Sofia Al-Azwar (Halle Berry) is an interesting character with a fighting style all of her own, did this movie really need to travel all the way to Morocco? In the end, you know John’s business will have to be settled back in New York anyway, so all of these meetings he has with the Berrada (Jerome Flynn) and with the “Elder” (Saïd Taghmaoui) seem unnecessary. It’s cool for the movie to have aspirations to be more than an action film but some of this feels like it would fit better in a spinoff movie. I’m saying this because this road through the desert brings us to a movie pet peeve of mine: someone loses a finger. This sort of injury creates a wall between the story and the audience. We know they didn’t REALLY chop off the actor’s digit so in every scene from then on, your eyes always drift back to their hand to see if you can spot a gaffe. The finger is taken off as a display of fealty but it could’ve been done a thousand different ways. Why this?

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum may be the least of the series but it also contains action scenes so good they make what we saw earlier seem like nothing. Those opening moments, in particular, will knock your socks off, so much that even if the film drags towards the middle, you’ll still be entranced by this ballet of blood and bullets. This is an ambitious film with spectacular martial arts set pieces, the likes of which most other action franchises could only dream of. (June 24, 2022)

[chillxsimmer]

After doing this challenge on and off again for a few years, I have finally made it to Gen 4!!

Meet Derek (Gen 4) and Heaven (Gen 3):) The color for Heaven is yellow and for Derek it's grey. May Derek's life be full of happy and fun experiences and never a dull moment. Well, maybe one or two. *smirk*

~ Desiree 💙

[dgf2099]

The Driver Suit Blog-Paint Scheme Grades-March 9, 2024

By David G. Firestone Josh Berry #4 Mobil 1/Take 5 Ford Mustang-Same scheme as last year, same A grade. Corey LaJoie #7 USANA Chevy Camaro-A good look, the sky motif works, and it isn’t over designed. A Noah Gragson #10 Fanttik Ford Mustang-Bad color scheme, and too many designs will earn an F. Ryan Blaney #12 Menard’s/Pennzoil Ford Mustang-Same scheme as last year, same A grade. Derek Kraus #16…

[luveline]

hiiiiiiiii jade! <3

would you be willing to write a fic about girl dad!spencer x bombshell!reader? i can only imagine what an adorable riot their daughter would be!!!

tysm!

ty for requesting!! mom!reader

Spencer always thought you were too beautiful for him. Too funny, too brave, too confident. For years he feared he’d never be anyone you could love; he was the opposite of all your best parts, he talked too much about the wrong things, he went red whenever you so much as looked at him, and he couldn’t flirt back, not for anything. 

But it’s been a very long time since he felt that way. What good is a father who doesn’t believe in being yourself? Amanda deserved to be loved from the moment she drew breath, and he shouldn’t have been any different. 

Now, though, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t be so accepting of all her whims. “I am not wearing that, daddy,” she says. 

She’s just old enough to put together sentences but young enough that the individual words sound like building blocks, chunky and clumsy on her little mouth. Her lips are yours, her smiles and frowns one hundred percent you. (Though you argue with him often that the quizzical pout she does is all his.)

“What do you mean, angel?” he asks, bent over her sock drawer looking for a matching pair. 

“This is pink, and this is purple.” She points. 

“Yes, and you like pink and purple!” 

“I like pink… and I like purple,” she says. 

“But not together?” he asks knowingly. “You want them at different times, is that it?” 

She runs for his legs, hugging them tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so much like your mommy it’s scary,” he whispers playfully, leaning down to pat her small back. “Okay, angel. I’ll find you a different dress to wear. Or maybe the dungarees!”

She lifts her chin up to smile at him. “Y’okay.” 

“Spencer, Amy!” you call, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Are you guys ready? We have to go soon and you haven’t even eaten!” 

Spencer used to sit at his desk daydreaming about you. He’d drink five cups of tea a day to get to walk past you for the kitchenette, hoping you’d be making a coffee, that you’d flirt with him over corporate rewarded donuts. Now you’re making him breakfast as he persuades your daughter into jelly shoes because she wants tall shoes like mommy. They compromise —Any will wear the wrong shoes if Spencer agrees to carry her to the kitchen table. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says as he pushes open the door into the kitchen. He's trying to be the best dad he can be all the time, but he doesn’t have a knack for the mornings like you do. “We won’t be late.” 

“That depends on how agreeable my lovely girl is feeling today.” You pick up the pink plastic plate you’ve filled with eggs, toast, and a mix of washed berries. “What do you think, Amy? Looks nummy?”

“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes already widening. 

“It’s breakfast, honey,” you say, scooping her out of Spencer’s arm to carry her to the table. “Chocolate chips are for dinner.” 

“Please?”

“If you promise to be really super duper good at Uncle Derek’s, then yes, you can have some chocolate chips,” you say, tucking her chair in, and kissing her chubby cheek. “You want me to make you milk or juice, mm?”

Spencer spots the two plates you’ve made up for you and him on the counter and quickly brings them to the table, sliding yours in front of you with a long-pronged fork, his hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat. “I’ll get it,” he says, ducking down to kiss you on the side of the mouth. 

You turn to Amy. “See that, sweetheart? See how nice and kind your daddy is to me? He’s soooo nice. This is why we love him so much, and we appreciate him so much.” 

Amy nods emphatically, blueberries tumbling off of her plastic fork. “So much,” she echoes, her voice like melting sugar. 

He has a weird moment by the fridge where he has to grip the handle. “You know I used to dream about making you a cup of coffee in the mornings?” he asks. 

“Spencer, come over here and kiss me again, please,” you say, sympathetic and fond.

“Me too!” Amy says through fruit. “Me first.” 

“Oh, gosh, this is one of the hardest decisions of my life,” he says, sweeping in to dot your cheeks with kisses, hers then yours, three apiece.

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Haircut day for the little Choate boys, then we went to buy me a new coat and get some lunch. Anything to be out of the house -- pipes still frozen; blarg.

Later, I made my first in-person appearance at the Beebe Poker Classic since 2014. (I played in the virtual game in 2020.) It was fun to play -- even though this is the first year I showed up without a costume -- and it was also fun to catch up with lots of dudes from my hometown. I finished in the middle of the pack. Bone won his sixth (?) bracelet, beating out John, Daniel Sowell, and Jed Davis in the end.

When I mentioned how much fun it was to have Bo playing cards in the side game that popped up while Will was still in the tournament, he said, "In about ten years, the tournament has the potential to grow exponentially because of the feeling it gave me for him to be there -- we'll all be bringing the young ones."

While I wasn't thrilled about staying up until 1am, I am already looking forward to next year's event.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 1.20.2024 - 10.27am.

[harveyguillensource]

Laura Montgomery shared several posts outlining the costume design process for The Wedding! Check out her descriptions of the amazing work done by her and her team:

[krispyweiss]

In a Greyhound Bus 80 Years Ago, “Ramblin’ Man” Dickey Betts was Born

It’s been 80 years since “Ramblin’ Man” Dickey Betts was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus rolling down Highway 41.

While the Allman Brothers Band co-founder was obviously taking some artistic license with this allegedly autobiographical number, Betts was born Dec. 12, 1943, and does turn 80 today.

He’s retired now, but Betts has earned the rest, after helping to shepherd the ABB forward in the wake of Duane Allman and Berry Oakley’s deaths and going on to play alongside the likes of Chuck Leavell, Warren Haynes, Derek Trucks and others.

Besides penning the Allmans’ biggest hit, Betts specialized in instrumental compositions - “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” and “Jessica” are considered classics. And his solo career, highlighted with 1974’s Highway Call, a bluegrass record credited to Richard Betts, is an under-appreciated corner of listening to be discovered.

Betts has outlived lived not only Oakley and Duane Allman, but Gregg Allman and Butch Trucks, too. He and Jaimoe are the last original Allman Brothers standing.

Given his lifestyle, Betts’ 80 birthday is as unlikely as a Republican telling the truth. May he continue to confound expectations and may Republicans begin to do so.

12/12/23

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi, I just wanted to know if you knew of any fics where Derek thinks that Paige or someone else is his mate when its really Stiles and doesn't realise his mistake until it's too late or something similar. Kind of like Worth the Wait by Dexterous_Sinistrous. Thank you.

Hi @no-name-for-me! Kind of.

Worth the Wait by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(1/1 I 13,381 I Explicit)

Stiles always had a thing for Derek, but then again, so did everyone else. Stiles just wanted to be seen as different, which was why he waited.

But maybe he waited a little too long.

***

Just My Luck. by BlogAnonimous

(5/5 I 1,438 I Mature)

Where is that smell coming from?

It's not Jennifer- she smells like sour,nasty stuff.

It's not Paige either- she smells to citrus.

It's like....

Cinnamon.

Berries.

Spring.

Home.

And....

...And Mate.

The Moon Isn't the Only Thing a Wolf Needs by RedRidingStiles

(1/1 I 4,666 I Teen)

Peter was wrong, Derek does not think the plant boy is cute. He can barely stand to be in the same room as the kid, he’s so talkative and steals Derek’s favorite shirts and smells like the woods and sunshine and home and Derek doesn’t even like the boy, he doesn’t think he’s cute. He doesn’t.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

[astrophileous]

Thunderstorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Spencer Reid was never a fan of thunderstorms. On one particular night, he woke up to one.

Warning(s): established relationship, mentions and/or depictions of gun violence/injury, protective spencer, parent-child relationships, I think that's it (?) this one is really just fluff wrapped in more fluff 🥰

Word Count: 2400-ish

Author's Note: HELLO! I'm finally back from the dead (yayyy)!! To celebrate, and as we all wait for me to finish rewriting the remaining chapters of love bugs, I'm posting this fic here for you all to enjoy :) I think it's the fluffiest piece I've ever written (srsly, not even a drop of angst!) so I hope you will enjoy! Let me know what you think okkk, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG if you like this one xx btw I'm pretty sure this can be read as gender neutral reader since I'm positive I didn't use any gender-conforming words, but pls lmk if I'm wrong!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer hated thunderstorms.

He had many memories of them, not particularly good ones. Most of them involved him being on the field during yet another atrocious case, gun and flashlight in hand, trekking after muddy footsteps that belonged to an UnSub he was chasing.

He had been shot, once, during a thunderstorm. The bullet lodged itself against his bulletproof vest before the perpetrator had received a retaliation shot from Derek's gun. The vest had saved his life that night. The nasty bruise decorating his torso for the following week, though, served as a sufficient reminder in Spencer's mind.

Thunderstorms were a natural enemy whenever he was on the field. Unfortunately for him, the rivalry seemed to continue past the doorstep of his home, too.

Back when sleep was a luxury that he had to scour and cherish, thunderstorms would be the antagonist that kept the two even further apart. The sound of heavy rain against windows was a line of needles prickling into his circadian rhythm, erasing any possibilities of sleep if he was even lucky enough to have them in the first place.

On those nights, Spencer would sit against the headboard with a book in his lap, hoping that the passage detailing the fall of Joseon Dynasty in Korean Peninsula--or the rise or Majapahit Empire in the island of Java, whichever had caught his interest more at that specific moment in time--would be enough distraction to take his mind off the disaster wreaking havoc outside of his apartment.

Thanks to years of therapy, Spencer now had found it easier to chase sleep whenever he needed it. Still, its sweet relief stood no chance against the chaos brought by a raging thunderstorm.

This time, too, was no different.

Spencer had been dreaming. A land of reverie where his tongue had tasted honey, where his nose had recognized the hint of mint and juniper berry before the image was rattled by a high-pitched shriek in the sky.

When Spencer opened his eyes, the bedroom was enveloped in a near state of total darkness.

The sharp cry he heard had come from a lightning that struck momentarily before he woke up. Five seconds later, another one struck again, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Spencer's body as he waited for the imminent thunder to shatter the atmosphere.

Spencer shut his eyes in an attempt to get his racing heart back under control. Once he opened them again, the remnants of sleep had washed away from his pupils, allowing him to take in the empty bed, the chill bedroom, and the opened door right across from where he was sitting.

Frowning, Spencer thought back to a few hours prior. How he had promptly retired to the bedroom after coming home from work. He remembered clearly--courtesy of his eidetic memory--having slammed the door shut before he got ready for bed.

A creak in the floorboards outside his bedroom door compelled Spencer to reach into the bedside drawer, fingers inching nearer to where the secret holster of his gun was located.

Before his hand could wrap around the weapon, the bedroom door was pushed ajar, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway, outline cast by a hazy kind of luminance.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were an intruder."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement. A playful smile sweetened by the gentle glow radiating off the flickering candle in your hand.

"It's just me," you assured him, finally stepping into the threshold and placing the candle on top of the dresser.

"I can see that." He watched you approaching, gaze never straying even when you picked up the comforter a tiny bit to slip back into bed. "Where did you go?"

"Went down to check the breaker. Power's out completely, by the way. Looks like the storm took out the whole block."

He made a disapproving face at your response. "You were in the basement? Alone?"

Your forehead furrowed at the tone of Spencer's voice. It wasn't until you glimpsed the telltale sign of worry in his eyes that your shoulders eventually deflated. "I'm okay, Spencer."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because," you began, an amused smile threatening to split your face into two, "it's a three flights of stairs walk from our bedroom, darling. I think I can manage it just fine."

"But--"

"Besides," you cut him off, silencing him with a gentle palm pressing on his cheek. Spencer instantly melted at the contact. "I know how you get during nights like this. I wanted to let you have as much sleep as you could before the storm eventually wakes you up."

His hand circled around your wrist, then, bringing it upwards so that he could leave tiny kisses on your palm before he entwined his fingers with yours. "You still should've woken me up."

"Spence--"

"I know, I know. You could've done it yourself, I don't doubt it. I just--" he paused, swallowing a lump before continuing, "--I could've just waited here. In the bedroom. But in case anything happened, I would've been there for you."

The admission was quiet within the four walls of your bedroom. You knew that Spencer's plea had nothing to do with a toxic need to be controlling. Instead, it had stemmed from the vulnerability within. A naked truth that nestled in the deepest corners of Spencer Reid's soul.

The years that you had spent together allowed you to understand Spencer at a level nobody else could. They allowed you to understand that this silly request was nothing more than a fruit of his vigilant bones, forged consistently throughout his years in law enforcement. Spencer Reid, underneath his soft eyes and tender touches, had witnessed all of the gruesome layers of the world, lost far more things than anyone ever should.

It was only logical, now that Spencer had you in his life--a miraculous reprieve to his otherwise ghastly world--he would spend every waking moment to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

Always.

With this knowledge in mind, you couldn't, in good conscience, bring yourself to deny Spencer's plea, no matter how foolish it might seem.

What you did, instead, was shifting yourself closer to his body, seeking permission with your eyes before you leaned forward for a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry, darling," you offered sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, yeah? How does that sound?"

The relief was blinding as it washed over Spencer's whole being. "Thank you," he muttered before kissing your knuckles. "And I'm sorry, too, for being like this."

You shook your head firmly. Not because you didn't accept his apology, but because you didn't need one. Spencer didn't have anything to apologize for.

When you told him as much, Spencer's only reply was to press his lips to yours.

You were rendered pliant underneath his ministrations, your body molding into his as if you were two fabrics cut from the same cloth. Spencer poured all of his emotions into the kiss. Wishing--begging--that you could taste just how consuming the love he harbored for you was. The same way he could taste your heart beneath the hint of honey on your lips.

Once breathing became a chore, Spencer took the heavy decision to pull away, settling for resting his forehead on top of yours instead.

"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" you whispered.

Spencer wanted to nod, feeling a huge load pressing on every inch of muscle in his body. But before he could take you up on the offer, a distant sound between the roaring of thunders caught his attention, stopping his words right in their tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked.

"Hear what?" You frowned. "The thunder?"

"No." He rushed to get up from the bed, gaze apologetic as he looked at you from the doorway. "Stay here? I'll be back soon."

Soft footsteps trudged along the landing of your two story house, leading Spencer towards another door located right by the stairs. He knocked slowly on the wooden door, twice, before pushing it open with a gentle nudge of his hip.

The room he entered was smaller than the room he shared with you. During the days, the windows on the far end of the wall would offer a mesmerizing view of the creek that ran along the backside of the neighborhood. During nights like this, however, they merely provided another harsh peek at the tantrum that mother nature was throwing against the world.

Although the room was swallowed in darkness, Spencer could still make out the silhouettes inside. From the haphazardly scattered toys on the floor, the colorful drawings taped on the walls, even to the lavender-colored furniture that seemed to fill every available corner in the entire space.

Amongst them all, the one silhouette that managed to pull at Spencer's heartstrings was the one curled up on the center of the bed. A usually joyous sunshine, reduced to a whimpering ball under a cotton unicorn-themed blanket.

"Princess."

Spencer tugged the blanket down, revealing misty eyes and pouting lips on a face he held dearly. A sob managed to wreck itself out of the little girl's chest, plummeting Spencer's heart further down the abyss of no end.

"Oh, sweetheart."

He gathered the 4-year-old in his arms, feeling her immediately hugging his neck. Her body was still shivering with tiny whimpers and sobs, all of which Spencer tried to subside gently by constant strokes down her back.

"It's okay. You're okay," he shushed quietly, rocking his body to a phantom tune while she clung to his chest. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

The girl sniffled aloud before lifting her head, her tiny hands rubbing rigorously on the tear stains around her eyes.

"The-the thunders," she murmured. "It was so loud. I woke up and everything was d-dark. Daddy, I'm scared!"

She threw her arms around his neck again, crying softly into the collar of his sleeping shirt. Spencer tightened his embrace around his daughter, heart breaking into pieces with every tear shed from her innocent eyes.

"Sshh, it's alright, princess. Everything's alright. Daddy's here now," Spencer cooed. "Do you wanna sleep with us tonight? Hm?"

His daughter started to nod frantically. "Don't forget Mr. Elphie, Daddy."

Chuckling, Spencer quickly grabbed the elephant stuffed animal lying next to her pillow. "Of course not. Mr. Elphie is coming with us, isn't he?"

Spencer began to retreat back in the direction of your bedroom, all the while conversing with his little girl to keep her mind off the storm that was still raging wildly outside.

You were checking something on your phone by the time Spencer finally returned. Immediately, you tossed the device aside once you saw him, eyes widening in concern when you saw your daughter's limbs entangled around Spencer's form.

"What happened?" you asked.

Spencer headed for the bed, slowly putting down the little girl who instantly cuddled your side after he had tucked her under the duvet.

"The thunders are scary," your daughter mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes flicked towards Spencer, who gave a single nod of confirmation before settling back on his side of the bed.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." You brushed back the hair from her face, taking in the sight of your favorite pair of eyes that seemed to have lost their usual sparkles in the wake of her tears. "What do you wanna do, hun? Should I tell you a story? Play a little music?"

"I wanna sleep here with you and Daddy," she said in a shaky voice. "Is that okay?"

Kissing the crown of her head, you answered, "Of course it's okay, sunshine. Come here."

Your daughter fell back into your awaiting arms. Her small frame fitting so easily into the front side of your body. You watched as her tiny fingers clutched Mr. Elphie tighter, breath evening out while her face burrowed even deeper into your chest.

It felt as if hours had passed before you could find the will to rip your gaze away. In all honesty, you could probably have spent an entire eternity staring at the little miracle in your arms had the universe given you the chance. When you lifted your head, your eyes automatically locked with Spencer's, who looked as if he, too, had been entranced by the sight in front of him.

"She's incredible," Spencer confessed into the night, voice fragile with the weight of awe it seemed to carry. "I can't believe she's ours."

You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly once Spencer secured it in his own.

"Seems like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," you mused, eyes glinting mischievously from the knowledge that your daughter--just like her beloved Daddy--also had a fear of thunderstorms. "Like father like daughter, huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I'm just... not fond of them"

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up." He bit your knuckles playfully, seemingly pleased with himself when he managed to elicit a laugh out of your chest. "Go get some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, Mister." You settled your head back on the pillow, Spencer mirroring your position without breaking his hold around your hand. "Where are you going again?"

"Florida. Miami."

"Damn," you muttered, temporarily panicking about your terrible choice of words before calming back down once you saw your daughter sleeping soundly. "I bet it's nice there this time of year."

"It's Miami. The weather barely changes there all year-round."

"Exactly my point."

"Besides," Spencer added, squeezing your hand once, "it's not a vacation. It doesn't matter where I'm going, I'll only be seeing dead bodies all day long."

"Okay. I really don't need to start seeing corpses in my head right before going to sleep, so thanks for that."

"You started it."

"I most certainly did not." You scoffed. "I'm not liking this conversation. Now, can we please go to sleep?"

Spencer had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But once he saw how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, entangled as one with your daughter, he decided against it.

At last, he opted to shuffle closer on the bed until he could wrap his arm around the two of you, letting the scent of mint from your shampoo and juniper berry from your daughter's body wash to wrap around his whole being.

Spencer was still not a fan of thunderstorms.

But on nights like this, he had to begrudgingly admit that maybe, maybe, they weren't really that bad after all.

[ddejavvu]

okay so you are quite literally my favorite writer on tumblr😭🫶🏾 and i’m not entirely sure if you’ve written a fic like this before but if you haven’t i’d like to make a request: any of our core 3 bau men (aaron, spence, or derek) reacting to gf!reader wearing that pheromone perfume stuff. you can make it smutty if you’d like since from what i’ve seen, guys tend to have ✨that✨ kind of reaction to it.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You meet Derek at the kitchen counter with a kiss, reaching up to take his tie from between his fingers and tie it yourself. He claims you're much better at it than he is, but you think he purposefully doesn't practice so that you do it for him.

"Thank you, gorgeous," He beams down at you, a charming expression that you can rarely ever hold eye contact during. It's intimidating to look him in the eyes even after all this time as his partner, because he's just so handsome you get nervous.

He knows that you're feeling especially bashful when you duck your forehead down, and he chuckles warmly as he kisses it. You're just tugging the knot tight on his tie when his nose brushes against your temple, and he trails down lower towards your ear.

"Now hold on," He murmurs, a large hand coming to press flush to your jaw. He tilts your head to the side, nose ticklish as he nudges it into your neck and inhales deeply.

"What is that?" He asks, and his voice possesses none of that typical teasing that's present when your cheeks are flushed hot like they are now. He's intent on receiving an answer, he's not just messing with you.

"What is what?" You try appearing coy, "My deodorant?"

"No, no, don't mess with me. Your deodorant smells like- mm, berries, or something," He frowns, shaking his head, "This is different. You put perfume on, mama?"

"A little," You bashfully admit, "I thought you might like it."

"I like it," He answers right away, zero hesitation in his voice as he tilts his head even further into the expanse of your neck. You feel him breathing you in and you grip the countertop behind you for balance when it feels like his weight is too much for you to handle.

"Jesus, baby, I really-" He groans, squaring his hips against yours against the counter, "I mean I really like it. What time is our reservation?"

"6:45." You recite, and he barely takes his head out of your neck to check his watch. 6:10.

"There's a 15-minute grace period," He decides, his large and eager hands grabbing hungrily at your waist as he lifts you up and onto the countertop. His hand moves to your thighs then, thumb slipping between them and wedging them apart, "Open up, pretty girl, I'm in the mood for an appetizer."