#i did my best to write derek but i might have failed

[vetitiscripta]

Traitor

Summary: It's been a year since you were in the desert. You never had any intentions on going back- until Derek decided to bring you along on his annual trip. Only agreeing to go after he implies he would bring someone else home with him, you soon find yourself thinking back on everything that has happened and know what you need to do.

Warnings: yandere behavior (if you decide to read it that way), someone dies!, stockholm syndrome

A/N: the summary is bad but thats okay. i am obsessed with derek he is my 2nd fav after ren so i decided to write something for nasty boy

It was hotter than you remembered.

Not that you actively tried to remember.

You didn’t want to be here, would have done anything to not be here, tried to do anything to not be here. But once Derek had suggested (it wasn’t a suggestion, it never was) you come with him on his annual trip to the desert, your fate was sealed.

Your breath was shaky, body trembling as you watched Derek pack away the ‘toys’ he had brought out for the evening. Luckily, he had been in a good mood and didn’t go overboard, but the bruises that would form tomorrow would say otherwise.

You noticed his change in behavior recently. He seemed almost happier, to put a word to it. His father and siblings didn’t bring his mood down as much as they normally would. He smiled and laughed more when he was with you and not in the condescending, mocking way he normally did. He was more enjoyable to be around like this.

You should hate yourself for thinking that and a small part of you did. But after being with Derek for so long after he brought you home, you found yourself growing closer to him. You lost track of how long you had been with him; you stopped counting after four months when you realized there really was no way of getting out and no one was coming to help. He was the only one you interacted with save for the maids or butlers that would come in to clean your room. You tried to make conversation with them but stopped after Derek almost cut the maid’s tongue out when he walked in on the two of you talking after a particularly bad day.

Your reminiscing was cut short when Derek got into the bed next to you, arm slung over your shoulders as he pulled you close to him. Cuddling was a new development. He didn’t initiate it often but your heart fluttered when he did. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and letting the rise and fall of his chest lull you into a half-asleep state.

“I’ll be gone next week,” You could hear the smile in his voice without needing to look at him. You hummed to let him know you were listening and he continued, “Going on a trip. You know the one.” He chuckled. You tilted your head slightly, racking your brain for when he talked about a trip. When you came up with nothing, you picked your head up and looked to him fully.

“What trip?”

Instead of answering you, Derek grabbed your hand and guided it across his chest. Your fingers grazed the scar tissue from where you had stabbed him last year in the desert and you almost pulled your hand back. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until his smile grew when you realized which trip he was referring to.

“Oh…” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, “I see.”

“Try not to miss me too much, I know you get lonely without me,” He chuckled again, “Wish I could take you with me,” He trailed off and you were happy the conversation was ending. You could already feel the panic starting to set in from the smallest mention of the desert.

You laid your head back down and closed your eyes, intending to drift off and forget this entire conversation. But you should have known Derek would have kept going.

“I can.” At first you weren’t sure if he was talking to you, but you’ve learned to answer him regardless. You looked at him again, waiting for him to continue. He was still looking at you, smile bigger, “I can take you with me.”

You felt cold, like someone dipped you in ice water, “…What?”

“Who’s going to tell me no? You’re mine, I can do with you what I want. And those assholes could care less what I do as long as they get their rocks off.” He sneered as he mentioned the others from the desert.

The panic came back. You shook your head, eyes wide, “N-no, you can leave me here. Really,” You tried your best to smile at him, hoping you came across as relaxed and totally not seconds away from having a breakdown. “I don’t want to trouble you. You have a lot to worry about for it, why add me to the list?”

Derek stared at you for a moment, smirk slowly tugging at his lips. He leaned close, lips brushing against your ear, “Scared I’ll kill you this time?” He laughed at your expression. “As much as I’ve thought about it, I prefer you with me. My little pet.” Normally the name would make you happy, but this conversation was doing anything but.

“Derek, please,” You were really going to push the limits, but you really didn’t want to go back. “I don’t want to go back, please don’t make me.” Your voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear yourself, “I’ll do anything.”

His smile was gone, irritation appearing on his face, “Did you not hear me? You’re mine, you’ll do anything I say regardless.”

But he must have thought of something. Some twisted thought had entered his head as his smile returned and he turned his away from you, eyes closed, “Alright.”

“I don’t have to go?” You were hopeful, but you should have known better.

“Sure,” He shrugged, “Maybe I’ll have more fun with my new toy and decide to bring them home. Something shiny and new to play with. I won’t need you anymore.”

That small part of you was rejoicing- finally a way out of this fucked up situation, even if it was through death. But the bigger, damaged part of you was terrified at what he said. He won’t need you anymore? You spent all this time with him, grown to love him. You needed him and you knew he needed you. You can’t let him throw this all away, throw you away.

“No!” You climbed on top of him, straddling him as you frantically grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you, “I’ll go! I changed my mind, I want to go. Please, can I come with you?”

You were mentally kicking yourself now that you were here, holding onto Derek as he drove the both of you plus his captive through the desert on his ATV. He didn’t tell you much about them, didn’t even tell you when he went to buy them (you assumed he went back to the auction he got you from). The poor thing looked just like you had- white tank top and underwear with a sack over their head. Your grip on Derek tightened.

Not much longer, he slowed to a stop and you were staring at the makeshift camp. You noticed you weren’t the first ones to arrive; three masked men and three victims awaited your arrival. The man with the blank mask- you recognized him immediately, how could you not when you stopped him from killing Derek- stared at you and, despite the heat, you shivered as you felt his eyes follow you.

He wasn’t the only one to notice you though. As you got off the ATV, the men with lizard masks watched you.

“Didn’t you bring that one last year, Derek?” One of them asked, but you couldn’t tell which one. You didn’t encounter them much during your time in the desert. You only remember seeing them at the beginning before everyone was released. Honestly, you were happy about that. They gave off an unsettling energy. It could be because you noticed the knife you had stabbed Derek with was hanging off the smaller lizard’s waist. Either they had an adoration for weird things or it was theirs to begin with. You did find the knife in the secret cave on one of the desert’s hills, embedded into the body of one of the other victims that was with you at the beginning.

“Decided to recycle for this trip?” They laughed together and you could hear Derek almost growl in response.

“Fuck off! What I do with my property is none of your concerns. And stop using my name! I’ve told you before: it’s ‘Scorpion’.” Derek dragged his newest victim off the back of the ATV and turned to you, “Go sit.” You obeyed him immediately, sitting in one of the already set up folding chairs as you watched Derek bring his victim to the others, pushing them to the ground before removing the sack that covered their head.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you got your first look at her. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her pale skin. If one of the masked men didn’t kill her, the sun surely would. Her eyes darted around, staying on nothing specific for more than a few seconds as she tried to take everything in. Until her eyes landed on you. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued to stare. You weren’t sure why she seemed so interested in you when there was anything else she could be looking at that was more worthy of her attention. But her eyes told you everything you needed- she was scared and she could tell you were too. But you weren’t tied up like they were and she was asking for help.

Derek, either noticing the silent conversation and deciding to end it or just because he felt like causing trouble, kicked the woman in the chest, knocking her over. He laughed at her as he kept his boot on her chest, leaning over her and mocking her.

You looked away from them, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

The sound of another vehicle pulled your attention away from dwelling on the feeling. The man with the dog mask had arrived. Jack. He carried a struggling man over his shoulder before depositing him beside all the other victims. Like the others, his eyes caught yours and he titled his head slightly as he took you in. He looked from you, to Derek, then back to you before he turned to the group of masked men and Derek. “Are we ready?”

“Fuck yeah! Let's get this party started!” Derek smirked at the victims while the rest of the masked men nodded at Jack’s question. “Let’s skip first blood, I want to get straight into it.”

“Everyone agree?”  Once again, everyone nodded at Jack. “Machete,” The unspoken request was understood and the man with the blank mask went to each victim and cut them loose. The victims took off in different directions, not waiting for the others to be released. The woman Derek brought seemed to linger for a split second, eyes snapping towards you before running off. As soon as the victims were out of sight, Machete walked into the desert without a word and the men with the lizard masks wandered off together as well. Derek grabbed his bat, mounted his ATV, and without even so much as a look in your direction, he too disappeared into the desert.

You tried to not let that hurt you. Tried to ignore how you felt hollow when he left. You reminded yourself that this was his annual trip, that he only got to do experience this once a year and he was just eager. But a part of you didn’t believe your own words.

Jack was the only one left. He threw the cigarette he was smoking to the ground and gave you one last look before also disappearing into the desert on his own vehicle.

The sound of the wind was the only thing keeping you company. You stared at the hills of the desert, already unsure of what to do. You thought about getting comfortable and sleeping until Derek came back, but your mind was racing. You thought of your own time in the desert and how you were back.  You thought about how Derek had just left without saying anything to you, almost as if you didn’t exist. But the thing that occupied your mind the most was the dark-haired woman. You needed to find her.

Rummaging through camp awarded you with a small pocketknife. It wasn’t what you wanted but it would have to do. You needed this, especially if you encountered anyone while you were in the desert.

Gripping the knife tightly, you stepped out of the shade from the tent and into the swelling heat. You looked back at the chair you were sitting in, wondering if this was a good idea.

You had to do this and besides, Derek never told you to stay. Pushing all other thoughts to the back of your mind, you started your journey into the desert.

—

You don’t know how long you had been walking for, but you were tired. The sun was still high in the sky and its rays were beating down you. Your feet hurt due to the lack of shoes (Derek’s sadistic mind had denied you the pleasure of proper clothing while in the desert) and you were already dehydrated. You were starting to think this was a waste of time when a rustling caught your attention. You turned around and, by the grace of whatever was watching over your pathetic life, saw the woman slowly standing up from behind a bush.

She looked around before rushing over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bush she was just hiding behind. She pulled you down to your knees with her. It was a nice hiding area; dense bushes were all around making it almost hard to see through. She poked her head above the bushes and checked the surrounding area once more before turning to you.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was filled with worry, so much that it startled you.

“What?” You winced as your voice cracked. After hours of not talking and dehydration, your body was not ready for the sudden use.

“Are you okay? Did any of them get you?” She checked you over, ensuring there was no wound that needed immediate attention. After you were deemed alright in her eyes, she sighed, “This is fucked up. What a shitty excuse of a vacation.” She laughed, quickly stopping when she realized you weren’t laughing with her. She coughed and held her hand out, “I’m Addie, by the way.”

You eyed her hand for a few seconds before shaking it. You didn’t provide her with your name, unsure if it was because you couldn’t trust your voice again or if it was because of your nerves.

Addie looked around again, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but we need to return to that camp.”

“Return to camp? Why?” You weren’t expecting her to say that and her sudden suggestion caused a slight panic to seep in. What if Derek was back at camp? The camp where you were supposed to be.

“If we can get to the camp and find one of those ATVs, I can hot-wire it. If I can hot-wire it, we can hopefully get out of here.” She smiled at you. If you weren’t panicking, it would have been reassuring.

“Why me? Shouldn’t you be worried about getting yourself out and not someone else?” You didn’t understand why she was so willing to help. She didn’t know you, didn’t know who you came to the desert with.

Her smile softened, “You don’t deserve to be here. None of us do,” She put her hand on your shoulder, careful of the red areas, “But we’re going to get out of here. We have to.”

You thought of your life with Derek. Every bruise, cut, broken bone, and gaping wound he inflicted on you since you became his. The time he grew so mad at you he had tied you to the wall and used you as batting practice. The time he didn’t like the answer you gave him and locked you in the room with no contact from anyone for a week, only opening the door when your cries and screams became hoarse.

But you also thought about the time Derek brought you books and paint to keep you occupied in the room when you were by yourself. When he first allowed you to leave the room and explore the rest of the mansion with him. How he told you stories about his day and told you jokes that made your stomach hurt from laughing so hard.

You absentmindedly brought your hand to your arm, hovering over the area where the tracker was. The knife you brought was heavy in your mind. You knew what you had to do.

“I know a place we can stay until night.” Addie cocked her head, intrigued, “I accidentally discovered it a while ago. It’s out of the sun, so we don’t have to worry about the heat killing us.” Not technically a lie, but not the entire truth.

Her face lit up with the biggest smile she could manage and she pulled you into a hug, causing you to gasp. You weren’t used to contact from anyone except Derek and you were unsure what to do. You awkwardly pat her on the back. She pulled away from you, tears streaming down her face. You worried that your lack of hug had upset her.

As if reading your thoughts, Addie shook her head as she wiped away her tears, “Sorry, sorry. I just… I’m ready to go home. Some of the others are already dead. I wouldn’t be able to forget if I wanted to. I just want to be out of this fucked up nightmare.” She sighed, “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

You nodded to her, standing up and making your way out of the bushes, Addie following close behind you. You pointed to the hills, “It’s that way. If we hurry, we might avoid being seen.”

Addie started towards the hills, taking the lead, “Good. The last thing I need right now is to see one of those freaks, especially that blond one.”

“…The blond one?” Your blood ran cold. Maybe she was talking about the lizard, his hair was blond too, right?

“Yeah, the asshole with the bat. Already had a run in with him,” She scoffed, “He found me not too long after they let me go. Fucker almost broke my arm,” She held her arm out to show you the bruise that was already forming. “I managed to get the upper hand on him and stab him with his own damn knife. Bet he won’t be using his shoulder anytime soon.” She laughed but you didn’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat.

That sickening feeling returned as you realized it was over for you. Derek would find her more interesting and would bring her home. You’re going to get left behind; he’ll kill you out here instead of her. He won’t need you anymore. You couldn’t let that happen, you can’t let that happen! You won’t.

You must have stopped walking because Addie was coming towards you, worry evident on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and pooled over, streaming down your face. You looked at Addie and shook your head, “I can’t.”

“Hey, hey. It’s going to be okay,” She smiled reassuringly at you, “We’ll wait until night, find an ATV, and get out of here. This will all be just a bad memory by tomorrow.”

You shook your head again, tears falling faster, “I won’t let you take him from me.”

Addie stepped closer to you, confused from your words. She opened her mouth to ask you what you meant, but before she could get a sound out, you pushed her as hard as you could. She stumbled before falling, her footing uneven on the shifting sand. You stood over her, blocking the sun and casting your shadow over her. You gripped the knife tight and tried to ignore how you were starting to shake (from fear or from anger, but you weren’t sure which answer you preferred).

Realization dawned on Addie’s face; her eyes grew wide as she tried to push herself away from you. She threw a handful of sand at you, desperately hoping to slow you down, causing you to yell as the sand got in your eyes. Addie, taking this opportunity, turned over and began clambering away, trying to get herself on her feet.

With the sand out of your eyes, you noticed Addie crawling away. Yelling in frustration, you ran towards her, kicking her side once you reached her. She fell to her side, scrambling to get back up. You climbed on top of her, straddling her as you grabbed her bruised arm and flipped her over. Addie howled, arm immediately flaring up in pain. You maneuvered your body to trap her arms beneath you and grabbed her face with your free hand, “Shut up! Stop making so much noise and just die quietly.”

“You’re crazy!” She struggled, trying to free herself from beneath you. Tears were running down her face as she stared at you, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it’s not worth it! Please!”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything. I would do anything for him,” You leaned closer to her, your breath fanning across her face, “Especially if it means keeping him with me.” You raised the knife over your head, sun catching the metal.

Addie screamed as you plunged the knife into her chest. Her body jolted at the impacted, her struggling slowly stopping. You ripped the knife out of her body and stabbed her again, and again, and again, and again. Her blood was everywhere. It splattered across your skin and pooled out of her body into the sand below. But you didn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop until she was gone, until she was nothing more than a distant bad memory.

You don’t know how long you spent hovering over her, knife in hand as you stared at her corpse. A low whistle snapped you out of your thoughts and you whirled around, ready to fight who had found you, but you dropped the knife immediately when you saw him.

Derek leaned against his ATV with a smirk on his face as he watched you. A warm feeling spread through you when you saw him, smile appearing on your face. Derek’s eyes went from you to Addie and you shrunk into yourself.

“Are you mad at me?” You knew how much this trip meant to him; it was the only thing he talked about the week leading up to it. Addie was his chosen victim and, while you had to do what you did, you didn’t mean to take his fun away.

Derek lingered on Addie before looking at you again, “I’m upset you’re out here. I’m upset I didn’t get to her first,” You expected him to pull out his bat or a knife of his own in form of punishment. You knew his anger and you would welcome it, but instead he laughed, “But I’m more impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You glanced at Addie’s body, “I-I wouldn’t have, but…” You trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

He titled his head, “But?”

“You said you would bring her home. That you would throw me away when you had her.” Your tears returned as you thought back on everything. “I need you. I couldn’t let her take you away from me.”

Something flashed across Derek’s face- excitement, surprise, or perhaps even both. His smile grew bigger, “C’mere.” You obeyed without hesitation. Derek caressed your face, smearing blood across your cheek. “You’re mine. You are never leaving me.”

You leaned into his touch, “I’m yours.” And he’s yours.

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

HEY HEY HEYYYYYY

Would you please write Mickey Altieri x Fem reader where she is Derek’s sister, (say they are twins or something) and Mickey really likes her…

But Derek is like really overprotective because he heard what happened between Sidney and Billy a year back and is worried that something similar might happen to reader, with all the killings going on again.

You’d be amazing if you did this but don’t feel forced :) 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

hi!! sorry this one took so long, I loved the prompt and kept starting and restarting because I wanted this to be at least a little bit decent . hope this is what you wanted!! (as always, feel free to let me know if it isn’t <3)

“PROTECT ME?”|| MICKEY ALTIERI X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: above

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fem!reader, swearing

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Despite the recent string of murders, the Windsor campus remains as busy as ever. The college quad in particular is brimming with life, hordes of students rushing to their next class or simply sitting down, enjoying the warm spring sun. You yourself sit cross legged leaning against the trunk of a tree, laughing as Mickey tells you about the making of his latest short film.

“You know, you should be in one my movies.” Mickey says offhandedly. “One of my class movies. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He adds after seeing the look on your face. “Unless you want-“

The look Derek sends him is so uncharacteristic that it almost looks comedic. Almost.

“Hey, I’m kidding.” Mickey says. “It was a joke. But seriously,” he says, sending you a boyish grin that practically makes your heart skip a beat, “we should totally talk your potential film career sometime. Maybe over dinner?”

It’s hardly subtle, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Mickey Altieri is the one who’s asking. “I’d like that,” you answer simply with a smile. “I’m free tonight if you are?”

Mickey opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted before he even gets a word out.

“Actually, you’ve got that test tomorrow, remember?” It’s your turn to shoot Derek a look now, irritated when he simply pouts like he’s doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“Yeah, and I’ve already studied. I’ll go over my notes in the morning, Derek.” You know your tone sounds totally bitter, but you’re starting to grow annoyed with your brother. It feels like recently you’ve barely spent any alone time with Mickey, and every time you come even close, Derek swoops in with the perfect brother routine to make sure you stay firmly away from the man. Mickey asks if you want to study with him over at his place? Derek offers to come too and sits between you both the whole time. Mickey asks you to go the movies with him? Derek needs your help planning a surprise for Sidney. Mickey waits for you outside class and asks if you want to and sit outside with him? Derek overhears and invites himself along. It’s completely infuriating.

Even now, you don’t miss the way your brother keeps glancing over at his best friend, trying to be subtle but failing spectacularly. It’s like he’s worried that if he looks away for too long, Mickey will pounce on you right there and then. If only, you think to yourself. You know it’s definitely… unconventional to have a massive crush on your brother’s best friend, but how could you help yourself? With his constant flirting and all around charisma, you were always bound to fall for Mickey Altieri. And from the looks of it, he seems to like you too. Which makes Derek inability to simply get lost all the worst.

“Still, I don’t think that mom would be too happy to hear that you’re neglecting your studies to go on dates. I mean, that’s what it is right, a date?

That bastard.

You honestly don’t know why he cares so much about your potential love life - or lack of so, all thanks to his stupid meddling. You glance over to Mickey, who simply stares at Derek slightly dumbfounded. You can see the hidden annoyance in the way he tenses his jaw though, his usually carefree and casual expression clouded over with something darker.

“You tell mom and I’ll never speak to you again,” you say, only half exaggerating. “Besides, I don’t really see how it’s any of your goddamn business in the first place.”

Derek just looks at you for a moment, huffing when he’s met with nothing but your impatient gaze.

It’s Mickey who breaks the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m gonna give you two a minute,” he says, before he disappears just out of your line of sight, his eyes locked on you as he walks away.

You decide to wait until you’re sure he���s out of earshot before talking. “What are we doing here, Derek?” You ask, exasperated. “Is this because you don’t want me dating your best friend? Do think it’s gonna make it weird or something? Hell, have you fallen out with Mickey?

“What? No, We’re fine!”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Seriously, Der? You’ve been anything but fine all week. I mean, you’ve been my own personal Mickey guard dog recently! You don’t think you at least owe me an explanation to why that is?

Derek sighs, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “Fine. But please don’t take this wrong way, okay? I’m only trying to protect you.”

It’s so unexpected that a laugh bubbles from your throat. “Protect me? From Mickey? What the hell do you need to do that for?

“Well, what with all the… killing going on, wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?” And I’m not saying Mickey’s behind it,” Derek adds, seeing the look on your face, “but is that a risk you really wanna take? I mean, last time it all happened, it was Sidney’s boyfriend the entire time. And I can’t let you get hurt too, I-“

“Derek.” You sigh, your expression softening. “I’m glad that you care so much. And I understand that you’re worried - I do. But Mickey’s not Billy Loomis! He’s your best friend, for fuck sake! And even if, on the tiny, tiny off chance that he is behind it all,don’t you think that it’s my mistake to make? I trust him, Der. And if you can’t trust him, you should at least trust me. Besides, Mickey’s not even my boyfriend! Well, maybe if you actually left us alone for a minute…” You trail off, biting your lip as so not to laugh at the distaste on your brothers face.

“I still don’t like it.” He argues, his expression stern.

“And you don’t have to,” you shrug. “I like it, and I like him. A lot. You’re gonna have to learn to live with that. Can’t protect me forever.”

He sighs, and you know you’ve finally gotten through to him. “I know that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“And you won’t,” you say, relief washing over you as you pull Derek into a quick hug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it looks like if I’ve got a date to arrange.”

You don’t stand around to see Derek’s reaction to that, and you bound over to Mickey instead, finding him pacing around a nearby wall.

“So, what was all of that about?” He asks. “Is your brother pissed at me for trying to defile his sister?”

“I talked to him.” You say, pointedly ignoring that last question. “He’s okay. He only wants the best for me.”

“Hey, I only want the best for you,” Mickey says suddenly, stopping and taking your hands in his. Within an instant, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s become, and you can’t help but flick your gaze down to his lips for the briefest moment. “I would never fucking hurt you.” And he says like it’s imperative that you know.

“I know that” You murmur. You can’t help but wonder how Derek could possibly think Mickey was dangerous, not when he’s always been so caring and gentle with you. Especially not when he looks like this, so beautiful and vulnerable, with a fire burning in his eyes so fiercely that it captivates you completely.

Mickey must notice you staring, and you don’t miss the smile that tugs on his lips.

“Now that we’re alone,” he says lowly, making you shiver ever so slightly. “Can I-“

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Within an instant, your lips are on his, and you hear the breath hitch in Mickey’s throat. It takes him only a moment to regain his composure before he’s kissing you back eagerly, his hands moving to your waist in an attempt to pull you closer still. It all feels so familiar, and you can’t help but feel reassured by the comfort that fact brings you.

After what definitely isn’t long enough, you pull back and take a deep breath, the small smile on your face the perfect reflection of Mickey’s. You catch Derek’s eye and try and send him the most subtle thumbs up you can, satisfied when his frown slips ever so slightly. Small victories.

“So,” you say, turning your full attention back to Mickey once more. “What is it you were saying about dinner?”

[sunnyie-eve]

5 | Acting like an Ass

Series: Indispensable | Teen Wolf

Paring:  (Stiles Stilinski x OFC Martin)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Panic Attack

A/N: Might be a few mistakes

| MASTERLIST |

~~~

Since last night Lydia has been ignoring me because she didn't like how I talked to Jackson last night. Like I was just going to let him talk to her that way? We might not get along well but she's still my sister. "You look more like... well you before we became friends." Stiles takes his seat next to me in class.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask looking at him.

"Hurt, pissed, alone, overall a done look."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "I'm fine." I shake my head.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"I said I'm fine." I look to the front of the classroom.

"You're not though."

I huff, "It's just Lydia is pissed at me because I talked back to Jackson last night. I literally was just standing up for her and she doesn't care." I explain to him.

"She will at some point." He tells me but I ignore it not believing.

After class, Stiles drags me to go listen in on his dad. "If he sees you... he's going to get on you." I laugh as we head towards where his dad was.

"Yeah, but I wanna see what's up." He continues to drag me to the office.

"So why do I have to come with you?" I ask laughing.

"You're in the wrong place at the wrong time." He says but I let it go as we sit on the floor outside waiting. "Favorite color?" Stiles asks hugging his bag.

"Purple. You?" I do the same as him.

"Blue. Oh, favorite type of fries?" He glances over at me.

"Curly fries all the way." He puts his hand up for a high five so I give him one.

"Best kind ever." I laugh at him.

"Favorite song of all time?" I ask.

"Dear Maria, Count Me in." I shake my head at him.

"Wherever You Will Go." He nods his head and as the bell ring for us to get to class, his dad comes out.

"We are watching his family's house. Maybe he'll wind up there. Give me a second." He walks over to us. "Don't you have a test to get to?" He asks his son.

"Don't mind Julia, she's good. What's going on? Did you find Derek yet?" Stiles asks.

"I'm workin' on it. You go take your test." His dad tells him.

"All right, Dad, listen to me." Stiles tries to talk making his dad raise his voice. "This is really important. You have to be careful tonight, okay? Especially tonight." Stiles tries to tell him.

"Stiles, I'm always careful." He tells him.

"Dad, you've never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least not like this." I could understand where Stiles was coming from.

"I know, which is why I brought in people who have. State detective. Go take your test. Also, try not to get your new friend in trouble." His dad smiles over at me so I return one as we head to class.

"You have 45 minutes to complete the test. 25% of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book." I see Stiles quickly write his name. "However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher. So let's get the disappointment over with. Begin." Mr. Harris tells us.

After a few minutes, Scott rushes out and Stiles follows but I say in class. Stiles comes back after some time but Scott never comes back to class. "Because of the full moon tonight?" I ask Stiles as class ends and he nods his head.

"You helping me lock him up tonight, right?" He asks as we walk.

"If you want help yeah. I'm not just going to insert myself into y'all's life like I'm been a best friend as long as you two have been." I explain as we head to the cafeteria.

"Why not? You're part of the team now." He nudges me.

"Well, I don't wanna invade y'all's personal lives at times." I try to explain.

"Julia now that you are on the team... that means we're gonna be best friends soon, and we all get up in each other's personal life." He smiles at me.

When it was lacrosse practice I met up with the guys in the hallway. "Can you pick up on stuff like, I don't know, desire?" Stiles says as I join them and I'm guessing he just learned Scott can smell like emotions.

"What do you mean desire?" Scott asks him.

"Like sexual desire?" I shake my head at Stiles knowing what he wanted to know.

"Sexual desire?" Scott repeats.

"Yeah, sexual desire. Lust, passion, arousal." Stiles explains.

"From Lydia." I tell Scott.

"What? No, in a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?" Stiles looks at me then back to Scott.

"From Lydia to you?" Scott says so Stiles says yes.

"Fine, yes, from Lydia to me. Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I've been obsessing over her since the third freakin' grade." I roll my eyes knowing she doesn't care about him.

"Why don't you just ask her?" I motion over to her.

"Well, to save myself utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Julia. Okay? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out." Scott says okay and walks over to her as we head outside.

"You don't even need Scott to ask for you because I know the answer." I say as we get to the benches.

"No, because you aren't close. She could keep it as a deep secret. You're just jealous that she could like me." I laugh at him then walk over to Jackson.

"Can I borrow your lacrosse stick real quick?" He laughs at me.

"Why would I let you touch it?" He asks.

"So I can throw a ball at Stiles. I wanna hurt him for a second." I explained to him and he groans handing it to me. "Thank you. Now when I get a ball I need you to get him to turn around so I can get him from behind." I smile then take a ball from coach. "Excuse me, I gotta borrow this." I see Jackson get Stiles' attention.

"What are you d-," Since I didn't wanna hurt Stiles too badly I aim for his shoulder, then threw the ball at him with a behind-the-back shot.

"WHAT THE HELL JULIA?!" He spins around holding his shoulder.

"Don't say what you said next time." I walk back over giving Jackson his stick back.

"Hey! If you ever think about playing, I'll let you join the team!" Couch shouts at me.

"Maybe next year." I let him know.

"Hey. What happened?" Stiles asks as Scott shows up.

"What?" Scott seemed not like himself.

"What do you mean, what? Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Did she imply she liked me?" Stiles just gets asking.

"Yeah. Yeah, she likes you. In fact, she's totally into you." Stiles gets happy but by his tone, he was lying.

When the guys were practicing Scott knocks down all the others including Danny at the goal. The whole team rushes to check on Danny so I rush over too. "Dude, what the hell are you doin'?" I walk over to Scott with Stiles.

"He's twice the size of me." Scott tells us.

"Yeah, but everybody likes Danny. Now everybody's gonna hate you." Stiles tells him.

"I don't care." He walks off from us.

"Your lipstick." I hear Jackson tell Lydia so I turn around to look at them.

"Oh. Oh, wonder how that happened." She checks herself. "Yeah. I wonder." He says sarcastically. I look at Stiles and his jaw was hanging open shocked.

"In fact, she's totally into you... Listen to me next time and watch what you say, or the next ball is hitting your spine, harder." I cross my arms looking at him.

"I'm sorry, but you play?" He asks as we walk back towards the school since practice was canceled now.

"Yeah, it's a secret hobby of mine." I laugh.

"From the pain, I'm still feeling... you're good." He rubs his shoulder.

"Thank you. I hit you with a BTB." He stops to stare at me.

"You're telling me you don't suck at back shots? I suck at those." He tells me and I decide to joke with him.

"You suck at lacrosse all together not just your back shots." I smile at him and he punches my arm.

"I hate you." He walks into the locker room while I go to my locker. "Okay, here's the plan. We head to my house get things ready for tonight then head over to Scott's and chain him up so he doesn't kill anyone." Stiles shuts my locker on me. "Then when the night is over I'll take you home." He smiles like a dork.

"Sounds like a good plan." I agree not really having a choice.

When we get to his house he runs straight to his room while I said I was going to get a glass of water first. "Stiles that you?" His dad walks in.

"Nope, he's in his room." I smile so he smiles back.

"So you're a friend of Stiles? New. I'm guessing since I've only seen you come over once." Sheriff Stilinski asks.

"Yes Sir. I just became friends with him and Scott. After years of only a few small conversations in class, we finally started to hang out." I explained to him.

"He's not paying you to be his friend right?" He asks making me laugh.

"I wish he would." I joke and he laughs too.

"Julia!" Stiles shouts for me.

"You sure? You really volunteered to become a friend of his?" Noah asks me as I clean my glass by hand.

"I sorta did. There are times when he doesn't give me a choice. There was like only one option for me and I had to deal with it."

He nods his head, "I believe that." I nod my head now.

"For example, he told me at school after lacrosse practice... Okay, here's the plan. We head to my house get things ready for tonight then head over to Scott's." I take a seat at their dining room table.

"Sounds like my son alright." He takes a seat too. "I never got your last name." He asks.

"Oh, Martin. My mom is Natalie Martin and my twin sister is Lydia." I tell him.

"I can see that now." He chuckles.

"You're actually the first to say that. When I tell people my age or older they say I'm lying at first because I'm so different from them." I let him know.

"That's ridiculous because you all share some features. Also, it's okay to be different, if being different makes you you, then keep being different." He tells me and I can't help but smile. "I saw the look in your eyes when you said differently so I just wanted you to know." He explains to me.

"Thank you Mr. Stilinski." He nods his head.

"Please call me Sheriff or even Noah, I don't care. I like you, you're a sweet girl." He laughs as Stiles marches into the room.

"What the hell? I called you?" He crossed his arms at me.

"I know but I was talking to your dad. I'm not going to be rude." I tell him.

"Can I take Julia now?" He asks his dad.

"Yes, I wanted to tell you before I head out that I'll be out all night." He tells Stiles.

"Remember be safe, especially tonight." Stiles tells him as he walks over to me grabbing my arm and dragging me away.

"See told you no choice. Be safe tonight Sheriff, bye." I tell his dad.

"Nice talking to you Julia." He shouts back.

"Really ditched me for my dad." Stiles shuts his door.

"Again was having a conversation with him and wasn't going to be rude." I explained again that Stiles shows me what he has for tonight.

Once we leave to go to Scott's, I notice Stiles glancing over at me from time to time. "Can I help you?" I ask him starting to get annoyed.

"No. Why do you ask?" He asks looking ahead.

"You keep side-eyeing me." I explain.

"What my dad said to you... If being different makes you you, then keep being different. He was right, I feel like if you were the exact same as Lydia... I probably would never get to start to know you. Plus you're fun to talk to." He explains as I look over at him.

"You were eavesdropping?" Is all I say.

"Yeah, from when you said who you were." He says as we pull up to Scott's.

"I'm sorry." I tell him before we get out.

"For?" He asks confused.

"That Scott kissed Lydia behind your back and then lied." I let him know.

"You were right... Now let's go." We get out.

I watch as he uses a key to unlock the door and open it going in holding the door open for me to come in. "Scott?" Melissa calls out.

"Stiles and Julia." He says as she walks into the room.

"Key!" She looks at the key in his hand.

"Yeah. I had one made, so..." He explains.

"That doesn't surprise me. It scares me, but it doesn't surprise me. What is that?" She asks about the bag as he drops it on the floor making the chains make a sound.

"School project it's really complicated to explain what the guys are trying to do." I explain to her and she nods her head.

"I believe that." She then looks over at Stiles. "Stiles, he's okay, right?" She asks.

"Who? Scott? Yeah. Totally." Stiles says weirdly.

"He just doesn't talk to me that much anymore, not like he used to." She says upsets.

"He's had a bit of a rough week." I sum it up for her.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Yeah, um- Okay, uh- Be careful tonight." She tells us so we say you too.

"Full moon." She adds but makes Stiles freak. "There's a full moon tonight. You should see how the E.R. Gets. Brings out all the nut jobs. You know, it's, um, actually where they came up with the word lunatic." She says before she leaves the house.

"Lead the way." I tell Stiles so we head to Scott's room.

"Oh, my God! Dude. You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren't home yet." Stiles bumps into me as he leans back.

"I came in through the window." Scott says acting creepy.

"Okay. Uh, well, let's get this set up. I want you to see what I bought." Stiles bends down to the bag.

"I'm fine. I'm just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight." Scott tells us and I don't believe him.

"You sure about that? 'Cause you've got this kind of serial killer look going on in your eyes, and I'm hoping it's the full moon taking effect, 'cause it's really starting to freak me out." I let him know and Stiles agrees.

"I'm fine. You two should go now." Scott tells us.

"All right, we'll leave. Well, look, would you just at least look in the bag and see what I bought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don't. Sound good?" Stiles suggest that Scott comes over to look.

"You think I'm gonna let you put these on and chain me up like a dog?"

"Actually, no." Stiles quickly handcuffs him up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Scott yells trying to get lose.

"Protecting you from yourself and giving you some payback. For making out with Lydia." Stiles tells him and then leaves the room so I follow.

"Really?" I ask as I see him get a dog bowl with Scott's name on it.

"I don't care if it's the moon. He's being a asshole." Stiles had a point.

"It's actually funny." I cross my arms trying not to laugh. "I won't interfere unless you want or need to me." I say as we walk back up to the room.

"I brought you some water." Stiles pours the water from the bottle into the bowl.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott throws the bowl away making Stiles walk back into the room from the hall where I was.

"You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That's m- like, the one girl that I ev- and, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, you know, he doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow, he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend." Stiles goes off on him so I head downstairs.

"Anything!" I hear Scott yell.

After a minute I head back up and sit next to Stiles on the floor. "What are you doing alone downstairs?" He asks.

"Giving you two space." I force a smile.

"Julia, you're just jealous everyone likes Lydia and not you." Scott says as we hear him struggle to get free. I close my eyes trying to ignore him. "I can smell it. Jealously, sadness, loneliness, it's pathetic but then again you are." He laughs as he struggles and I try to breathe calmly but I can't so I rush downstairs for a drink.

My hands were shaking as my heart was pounding and I couldn't breathe. "Hey, hey, breathe. Try to breathe. Focus on me, look at me." Stiles grabs my hands forcing me to look at him. I just stare into his eyes and it helps a little but my panic attack stops after he pulls me into a hug till I was breathing normally again. "You have panic attacks?" Stiles asks letting me go.

"I used to a lot in the past. Haven't had one in years. I guess what Scott said triggered some old memories." I try to laugh it off.

"I used to get them when my mom died. I knew you were having one as you rushed away." I just look down. "I'm going to stay down here for a while if that's okay?" He nods his head.

"It's okay. If you need me I'll be in the hall floor." He smiles leaving me alone. From downstairs on the couch, I could hear Scott screaming so I cover my ears. "JULIA!" Stiles comes running down the stairs. "Scott gone. He broke the handcuffs." He pulls out his keys so we rush to the jeep.

"Question, where the hell would he be?" I ask.

"I don't know, that's why we are driving around." His thumb taps on the steering wheel paranoid.

As we were driving we see flashing lights so Stiles stops the jeep rushing out to look for his dad. "Dad? Dad? Has anyone seen my- has anyone seen my dad?" He asks then walks towards the body.

"Stiles. What are you doing here?" His dad shows up making Stiles hug him relieved he's okay. "Again, what are you doing here?" His dad asks as they stop hugging.

"We were just driving around then saw the lights and got worried. When Stiles got out to look for you he panicked not finding you." I explain to the Sheriff.

"We just found a body that was out in a dead bomb fire." He lets us know.

"That sucks." Stiles says making me hit him.

"Come on, Stiles some respect for the dead guy." He rubs where I hit him.

"I didn't know what else to say." He hits me back so I hit him back again.

"I like her. Keep Julia around Stiles or you're grounded till your dead." His dad points at him.

"What? I-," He's cut off.

"It's late and I think you should take Julia home now then head home yourself. I'll be home soon." Noah tells him.

"Fine, see you at home." Stiles walks back to the jeep.

"Goodnight Sheriff." I smile giving him a goodbye wave.

"Night Julia." He returns one.

"Wow, he really does like you. I believe just by what was all said in one night, likes you more than Scott." Stiles says driving me home.

"You said once we become friends we invade each other's lives... Guess what? I'm making my way into yours easily." I laugh.

"Make yourself right at home then." He laughs. As we pull up to my place Stiles stops me before I get out. "It's not pathetic that you feel those ways at times. I'm starting to feel them myself with Scott being a werewolf now." He lets me know.

"I get what you mean but it's still different for me. I live with Lydia and she reminds me every day." I look at him.

"If you ever need to rant about things or want someone that will listen to you... Give me a call or come over." He gives me a smile.

"Night Stiles." I open the door.

"Night Jules." He smiles as I shut the door and head inside.

I already am starting to feel the pain of what's to come.

[f0xgl0v3]

Newest Kleos Rabbit Hole

So, I started stranger things blah blah Kleos I’ll have another CJ post soon because. I might make the re-imagining 3 years after the first arc and that changes so much and I think it’s really interesting and it means I get to give Percy a break. But anyway, we’re talking about the Kleos new background character obsession. The Bryce Lawrence of my Stranger things,

Pure fuel guy. He is in the first part of season 2 of Stranger things, he has no name, nothing to him except he’s iconic and his hold on me rivals Bryce or Lucinus Junius Brutus in how much I think they’re silly. So what is Kleos here to talk about? Headcanonns. I am on the second episode of season four and like just had a breakdown. I have created this man’s life story.

Meet Derek Laurens Galanis. He is a sophomore or a junior, in that 16-17 age range. He does go to Hawkins Highschool and he lives in the trailer park with his mom and their dog. His dad isn’t really around right now but Derek doesn’t really mind too much

Derek has an older sister who goes to UC Berkeley and he wants to go to Berkeley too. He hopes to maybe get a wrestling scholarship and wants to either do like a Arts and Humanities (focusing on Mediterranean stuff- the Ancient Greek and Roman studies one on their website I’m doing my best) thing, a film and media degree, or like. Political sciences if he can’t figure it out

Derek does wrestling and plays on the basketball team during the off season. He likes wrestling a lot actually and wishes he could do it independently but doesn’t really want or know how to join a team

Derek really likes Greece. During elementary school when they were learning about Ancient Greece and the fact he was Greek came up everyone thought he was like the shit during 3rd grade and that never really left.

Does the school musicals. Can my man sing? Oh no Derek obviously can’t but he really likes doing tech work and stage management. But he has to keep it kinda on the down low with his teams

He probably also almost got sucked into Hellfire club before his sister could swoop him up (his freshman year was her senior year). Dawg did used to play DnD before he got really busy with extracurriculars. Probably played as like, one of the.. halflings(?) I don’t know stuff about DnD. He probably has shit luck though and I think that’s endearing

Derek teeters on the fine lines between the ‘freaks’ and ‘cool kids’ of this Highschool. He is on the basketball and wrestling team and is an athlete who had well known friends and a well liked sister to back him up, he gets invited to things like Tina’s Halloween party. On the flip side he does theatre, likes history, and played DnD at one point. He manages to stay in the popular circles but that puts a small strain on his relationship with the drama student body.

Brother also likes making food. Good cooking for the soul and all that stuff. Probably tried to cook something at Tina’s but failed miserably. Never forgets the punch tho/j (that’s a joke I promise)

Derek sees everything like going wild around him from an outside perspective of not knowing anything and wants it to stay that way. The wise one is the naive one

His favorite Greek like myth collection is all the ones where Heracles is just there. That’s probably why he’s dressed up as Dionysus/generic stereotypical media portrayal of Ancient Greek guy

My man, really wants a tarantula as a pet. Thinks it’d be so cool but he barely got his mom to let him name their dog like. Agamemnon or something so he’s already on thin ice

Really bad at science and math. Lil guy just does not think in numbers or absolutes. he’s also really loose on his like remembering historical dates.

Probably pen pals with his sister. She thinks it’s whatever and sweet and writes him back about all the cool stuff in Berkeley and it just makes Derek try harder to get his grades good enough to try and get it

Uhh. That’s Derek, there’s probably more if I think harder but I am also sick. So that’s what we get, also, Bryce Lawerence things to come. Sorry I haven’t made longer posts like this school has been hitting me like a truck and I’ve just been trying to like, figure stuff out but Rick isn’t making my life easier/j

I really just have to look at the actual Ancient Greek myths (not Stevenus and his random Latin translation #739282 where they change stuff/aff) and see what I can draw upon and make actual like. Cohesive stuff. Thinking about looking back on a lot more of the Heracles era because of the Argo stuff but also like, the scrambling of myth references everywhere kinda messes me up a little. Oh well, to the trenches I go :3

[masterwords]

two tickets to paradise (ch 7)

Summary: Derek takes Hotch on a much-needed vacation. (Post-Route 66)

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: booze and sex. literally nothing else to this chapter. (not graphic.)

Words: 1.7k

Notes: It occurs to me that I didn't post the last chapter or two here so you may need to head over to AO3 and catch up before reading this one...sorry. (Chapter 5, Chapter 6) I haven't had a lot of time (or brainpower) to write lately but this fic is like a happy place. It's so soft. It's mostly unedited, I'm sorry, but either I fully edit things and they never get posted or I just throw it to the wind and hope for the best and you get content. I don't know what else to do with my brain at this point. Oh, hey, if you have anything vacation specific, you'd like to see them do...I have no plans here, feel free to pop into my requests and I'll try to make it happen. I have an ending planned and it *could* be the next chapter but I really want to sort of keep them here for a while...

Read on AO3: two tickets to paradise

**

“I don't think that piece goes there,” Hotch said quietly, shifting on his bar stool to get a better look. Their wide front window was thrown open, letting in the evening breeze (and the bugs with it). Outside waves crashed against pearl white sand and stars began popping to life while the sky darkened shade by shade.

“It fits...” Derek argued, but Hotch frowned and poked at it a little, exposing the smallest gap in the curve at the top.

“Not quite. Beer might help you play pool or volleyball, but it's definitely not helping you with this puzzle.”

“Ohhhh...shots fired...”

Derek slammed the last of his beer and grinned, waggling his eyebrows. It was a move that never failed to amuse Hotch, even if it did also indicate that Derek was doing something he knew that Hotch found troublesome or irritating. Without even blinking, Derek grabbed a piece and shoved it into place...the wrong place. Not just a little wrong, either. It was red, part of the parrot's wing, and he forced it in right where the beak should be.

Hotch narrowed his eyes. “Derek.”

“May I help you?” He grabbed another piece, green this time, and slipped it right in beside the red one. He thought he saw Hotch's eye twitch. “What's the matter?”

“You're going to ruin the pieces.”

Derek did it again. Another green one. Hotch sighed.

“This puzzle doesn't belong to us.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Ah, there it was, Hotch thought. Derek wanted to stop putting the puzzle together and put something else together instead. His eyes danced over the burnished gold flickering on his finger, and he couldn't help it...he gave in without further prodding.

Derek's hand hovered over the puzzle dangerously, his eyes full of warm sparks. Hotch shook his head. “Don't you dare...”

“It's either the puzzle or you. I'm sweeping one of ya...”

Hotch scooted his bar stool back, an open invitation. He had grand plans to finish the damn puzzle. Wasting no time, Derek flew around the end of the table and slammed into Hotch, chest to chest, arms wrapping tight around him. The stool crashed to the floor but Derek managed to get his trajectory shockingly accurate and the two of them landed in a heap on the bed. Hotch gasped air back into his lungs before Derek and his sweet and sour beer breath leaned in for the first of many overly eager kisses. Hotch struggled beneath him to try and scoot them further up onto the bed, to get some leverage before twisting and grinding his hips against Derek's.

Outside was the sound of sea crashing against sand, an evening tidal surf creeping closer and closer to their secret abode, but inside was the sound of clothes being discarded haphazardly, tossed at the table and sliding the puzzle in a careless shower to the floor. Outside the night creatures cooed and murmured and inside they created their own wild symphony of flesh and moans and sweat.

Later, as their heartbeats returned to normal and they lay sprawled naked on the bed, Hotch sighed.

“Can I tell you something ridiculous?”

“I'd love it.” Derek propped himself up on one elbow and watched Hotch furrow his brow, search for words that were just out of reach. He wasn't one to bare his soul, one to speak those inside words, but here he was trying so hard to do just that.

“Don't laugh.”

“I wouldn't dare.” They both knew that was a lie, but it was a risk Hotch was prepared to take. This time.

“This feels like a dream. I'm going to wake up from this morphine induced dream and I'll be in the hospital staring up at the stained ceiling, and I'll be alone.”

Derek frowned. It didn't seem funny at all. “Why?”

He wasn't prepared to answer questions. “I don't know. I suppose it just seems too good to be true. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“No other shoe. Come on, roll over. Let me rub that aching back of yours, that's the problem. You're just feeling old...but that's not so bad. Getting old has perks. Like your big, strong, handsome fiancé giving you all the massages you could ever want...”

Derek's thumbs pressed small circles at the base of Hotch's spine, digging deep into sweat slick muscle. They slid, from inside to outside, rounding the curve of his hips and making their way back up. Over and over, fast and then slow, hard and then soft. Hotch rested his cheek against his arm and let his eyes drift closed, tried to relax into the motion.

Derek yawned deep, perched naked on the back of Hotch's thighs, his eyes trailing first over the expanse of skin and then up and out the window into the dark. They'd missed the sunset by a long shot, building their puzzle and playing their games. Missed it, but didn't mind, not this time. Derek thought about walking under the stars, hand in hand, and continued pressing life into that deep ache.

The most surprising part was that Hotch never protested, never claimed that he felt better and Derek could stop. He just hummed pleasantly and let it happen.

Derek's yawns expanded his entire chest. Blew it wide open and his tired eyes would nearly slip shut until they lit on the crashing waves that swept closer and closer to their little hideaway. The tide had come in, crept up on them sometime after the sun sank deep behind the horizon. His yawns sounded like a big cat purring and Hotch hummed a little louder when Derek hit the spot. It lit his world up bright and then settled into a low and deep sense of relief. The best kind.

“You wanna take a walk?” Derek asked, surprising even himself. Something about those waves and their sudden proximity, the way the silver moonlight pooled and twisted like watercolors bleeding together was calling to him. Wet sandy feet and sweaty skin cooled by the midnight breeze. Hotch nodded and twisted beneath Derek's legs, for a moment wondering if Derek might be up for something else but Derek looked too serious about leaving, about walking. He'd proposition him for round two later.

“Love to,” he answered finally. Quietly, reverently, blinking owlishly at the man perched on top of him. His hands rested against Derek's thighs and once again he found himself staring at that ring. It still felt too surreal.

They tugged blankets around their shoulders but wandered out naked. Hotch pulled his blanket tight around him, leaving only one hand exposed...he was naked, he was trying to let go, but he was also still fully covered. They had neighbors who were probably sleeping, but if they weren't, he didn't think they'd enjoy the show he put on. Derek wore his loose, more like a cape, and he struck an almost godly form as his feet hit the patio. The tiny swimming pool, his home away from home, glittered and reflected the starlight while Derek laced their fingers together and pulled him beyond their small patio and onto the cold sand. Derek kept their pace slow, he wasn't out here to put in distance, he just wanted to tease the waves into coming to meet him.

They wandered out and back slowly. Derek shed his blanket halfway, preferring to enjoy the breeze everywhere he could. Hotch hugged the second blanket around himself gladly. He was cold, and felt unbearably old all of a sudden. A swirl of exhaustion and soreness, nothing he could do much about but Derek guided him to the pool upon their return and there was that eyebrow waggle again. “We missed the sunset...let's watch the sunrise in here.” He whispered the last, unbearably close. Hotch glanced in the direction of their wide open picture window, the warm bed looking so incredibly inviting, but Derek would always win. He barely even had to try anymore.

He knew he was going to shiver, his skin would erupt in waves of goosebumps, and Derek would wrap himself around Hotch to try and stave off the chill. The kissing came next, the roaming hands, and somewhere around the steps Hotch got his round two right out there in the open. Slipping into the icy water after that was heaven.

They watched the sky go from inky black to deep blue to gray and the stars slowly blinked out of sight, snatched up by the sun and stored away for later.

“Do you still hate the beach?”

Hotch let out a low whine. He'd forgotten he'd ever been so silly as to say those words aloud. He knew better. He watched the pool water distort the view of his feet way down below. Weightless he floated, the ache in his back a distant memory here, and he thought if it wasn't so cold he could probably actually sleep here. His eyes wanted to close desperately, and he turned, resting his arms against the edge. Slowly he let his head fall, resting his cheek against his cold forearm. He didn't answer Derek, wouldn't dignify it with anything that could be used in the future against him.

Derek didn't plan to let him stay silent forever. Arms snaked around Hotch's waist from behind and Derek began kissing the back of his neck, his chlorine-soaked shoulders and grinning there against his skin. He pulled Hotch to him, dragging his left hand to his lips, kissing the thick metal band now circling his finger and smiling there against his knuckles. “No,” Hotch said finally. “I suppose not.”

“Good. Because we've got a honeymoon to start planning...I'm thinking Tahiti.”

[marksladen]

Derek Jarman Protest!, Manchester Art Gallery, 2021

I went to see the Derek Jarman exhibition, Protest, in Manchester last week, and found it very moving, since Jarman is undoubtedly the single most important role model who I have ever found in British public life. This presentation today – which is personal and polemical rather than evidenced – will look at the idea of Jarman as a role model, as a father figure, as a daddy, as a conduit for a queer tradition, even as a disease vector, ultimately looking at him as a figure of inter-generational transmission in a queer context.

In 1986, at the age of 44, Jarman discovered that he was HIV+, and embarked on the last phase of his career. Late Jarman includes his later films and writings, but also two strands that are distinct to this period: his garden, at Prospect Cottage; and his AIDS activism. This phase of Jarman’s career was impressed upon me in 1990 when he gave an interview for The Listener, which was a magazine that the BBC used to produce to accompany its output.

The interview was ostensibly promoting The Garden, Jarman’s film of that year. But in it he also talked about his garden in Dungeness, as well as about his HIV diagnosis, the failings of the government’s approach to combatting the epidemic and the role of homophobia in the health crisis. This wasn’t the first time that Jarman had ‘come out’ publically as HIV positive, but it was the one that had the biggest impact on me. I was 24 in 1990 and, in my first job after leaving university, was the layout assistant of The Listener. As a young gay man I was terrified at the prospect of catching AIDS, and full of confusion – and some shame – about being gay. It is hard to overstate the importance to me personally of the example of Jarman: an older gay man who was open about his sexuality, open about his HIV diagnosis, critical of the pervasive homophobic culture and all the while insisting on his own cultural relevance.

However, when I went to see Protest I must confess I found it curiously unsatisfying, in part because the strand of Jarman that the exhibition focuses its most attention on – the paintings – is the aspect of his work that has the leastinterest for me. Meanwhile, the aspects of his artistic output that have the most interest to me, his writings and his garden and his activism, are harder to represent in exhibition form. His filmmaking, it should be said, is better represented in the show, especially his Super8 work, but even his films feel, to me, more like relics – artefacts that are interesting mainly because they give us a glimpse of a larger phenomenon. 

What the exhibition reveals to me is that it is not Jarman as a producer of artefacts that interests me, but Jarman as this larger cultural phenomenon. Some of this might be captured by talking about him as a public intellectual, which indeed he was: he drew on a wide range of cultural and historical references, especially English ones, to create an alternative worldview, and defended it in public. Some of this might be captured by talking about Jarman as leading an exemplary life, which indeed he did: his insistence on continuous personal experimentation and creativity, and his militant openness about his queerness and his disease, are both inspiring, and this notion of an exemplary life is implied, in a camp and queeny way, by his canonisation as Saint Derek of Dungeness by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in 1991.

But I have decided that the best way, for me, to capture the importance of Jarman as a cultural phenomenon is to talk about him as a queer daddy. By queer daddy I mean, at one level, a figure that passes on – in a form of intergenerational transmission – an idea of a continuous queer culture. In Protest this is seen most clearly in the section of the exhibition that addresses Jarman’s activism. The latter includes an excerpt of a film that records the artist giving a tour of an installation that he staged in 1989 at the Third Eye Centre in Glasgow.

The project features a set of large paintings made upon mattresses, with each of these ‘beds’ dedicated to a queer cultural exemplar, including such figures as Plato, Shakespeare and Passolini. The beds are set with rumpled and twisted sheets, emphasising the sexual nature of these heroes; with books, photographs and other artefacts that attest to their ideas and influence; but also with tars and feathers, attesting to a kind of martyrdom. These are all Jarman’s gay ‘saints’ – he is building a tradition and an ethics for himself, drawing on their work and example. (As he says in the film, “I’ve always thought of Shakespeare as an ally”.) At the centre of the installation is another bed, this one occupied by two real figures – the people playing these roles included Jarman’s young boyfriend Keith Collins – and the exhibition presents a gay lineage that comes down to these present-day lovers, whose own bed is set about by barbed wire and tabloid front pages loaded with homophobic hysteria.

This project is an example of Jarman in the daddy role in a cultural sense – as both the maker and the transmitter of a tradition – and it is significant that the project was made in response to Section 28, the law passed in 1988 that outlawed [quote] “promoting the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.” [end quote] Not only is the exhibition a flagrant piece of pedagogy – perhaps not a great piece of art, but a great lesson– but it takes as its model of operation this very notion of the pretended family, or what, in queer discourse, is called chosen family.

The idea of Jarman as a conduit for a queer tradition is addressed by the filmmaker John Maybury in an essay written for the catalogue of Protest. As Maybury says, connecting to Jarman was "in part how I found my connections to my branch of the queer family tree. This tree has its roots in the generations of queer men and women down the centuries who passed on care, knowledge and love to those who followed, helping the young to navigate the cyclical problems that beset us all. Denied our full human rights, we sought to construct a secret history, known only to those who could read the signs. This thread manifests in various forms, including the bitingly funny covert language of polari. In books and films, in paintings and in poetry, this secret society has a shared special knowledge. The older poof befriends and mentors the younger boy; the older dyke cares for and nurtures the young girl in crisis." [1]

Maybury uses Jarman and himself as an example of this handing down of care, knowledge and love. He relates how, as a 19-year-old art student and punk, Jarman gave him the responsibility – on the basis of a single conversation – to create the punk sets and costumes for Jubilee. From this point onwards the older filmmaker acted as mentor to the younger one, in a kind of daddy / son relationship (though it is notable that Maybury points out that this relationship dynamic is not exclusive to men). Nor is the sexual aspect of this relationship entirely ignored since, as Temple relates, the pair fell into bed one night when the younger man was off his head on Mandrax.

The combination of a mentor / mentee relationship with a sexual partnership is a long-established model in queer history, but one that has become, in recent decades, both more rare and more difficult to talk about. This is ultimately because of the AIDS crisis that culminated in the West in the early 1990s, and which created a very significant generation gap. On one level, younger men didn’t want to fuck older men, because of the fear of getting infected – which came in part from the way in which the sexual culture of these older men was being demonised in the popular press. In addition, many younger gay men chose to focus their political energies, if they had any, on the quest for equality, rather than defending the radical queer culture that their immediate forebears had created in the post-Stonewall, pre-AIDS era. Furthermore, what could – in one interpretation – be called the ‘pederastic’ tradition within queer culture was exactly the kind of thing that these young assimilationist gay men wanted to dissociate themselves from. Finally, there were fewer opportunities for this daddy / son relationship because, quite simply, a lot of the daddies were dead or dying, creating the ultimate generation gap.

When I started to explore London as a young gay man in the early 1990s I fell into this generation gap – and this assimilationist trap – avoiding the company of older gay men, such as you could still find, and certainly not sleeping with them. I met Jarman once, at his flat in Phoenix House on the Charing Cross Road. I was there because, for a brief period, I designed a fanzine called Square Peg, a queer arts publication of which Keith Collins was one of the editors. I remember Jarman bustling through in a grumpy manner, clearly irritated that his tiny flat was being used for our meeting. I was far too shy and tongue-tied to speak to my hero, and Jarman’s mentorship of me was only through his films, books and other public statements.

Perhaps Jarman took his irritation with the invasion of his flat and – hopping on the Northern Line, or perhaps the number 24 bus – went to the cruising grounds of Hampstead Heath, of which he was extremely fond. I remember being shocked to read, in Modern Nature (1991), that Jarman continued to have sex on the Heath after his HIV diagnosis, but I’m not shocked anymore. It seems very human. The radical sexual culture of the post-Stonewall, pre-AIDS era – including the celebration of such transgressive acts as cruising in public parks – was something that Jarman never wished to give up. This aspect of the book caused some upset on its publication, and as Jarman would say in his next book, from 1992: "Cruising Hampstead Heath has frightened them, suddenly Derek’s a bad boy again. I always went to the Heath from the moment my friend Michael told me about it in the sixties. It’s completely Queer, rooted in sex – a completely Queer space. Few people fuck there any longer, but there is choice. All you can do is give everyone information. They have to make their own decisions. For instance, if you decide to fuck me without a condom and I consent, where does responsibility lie?" [2]

Perhaps Jarman chose to have unsafe sex, and perhaps he infected young gay men with the HIV virus, and perhaps that was another manifestation of inter-generational transmission, but his emphasis on consent within this equation is strikingly modern. As the title of the book in which this appears has it: At Your Own Risk.

As I was leaving the exhibition in Manchester I looked down and saw a sign on the floor of the gallery, telling people to stay two metres apart. I think that Jarman would have been furious at this endnote to his retrospective. Moreover, this anxious manifestation of the current pandemic makes me think of all the anxiety and fear and stigmatisation that was created by AIDS. And within this constellation of damage, one small but significant part is the damage that the epidemic caused to relations within the queer community, including the damage that it did to the operation of inter-generational transmission.

Notes

Image above: Derek Jarman, Queer (1992), oil on canvas. Image below: Keith Collins and Derek Jarman at a screening of Blue at the Venice Biennale, June 1993 (photograph: Howard Sooley).

[1] John Maybury, “The Warlock of the West End”, in Derek Jarman Protest!, ed. Seán Kissane and Karim Rehmani-White (Dublin: Irish Museum of Modern Art, 2020), p. 149.

[2] Derek Jarman, At Your Own Risk (London: Hutchinson, 1992), p. 111.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Razorblade Tears. By S.A. Cosby. Flatiron Books, 2021.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: thriller/suspense

Series: N/A

Summary: Ike Randolph has been out of jail for fifteen years, with not so much as a speeding ticket in all that time. But a Black man with cops at the door knows to be afraid.

The last thing he expects to hear is that his son Isiah has been murdered, along with Isiah’s white husband, Derek. Ike had never fully accepted his son but is devastated by his loss.

Derek’s father Buddy Lee was almost as ashamed of Derek for being gay as Derek was ashamed his father was a criminal. Buddy Lee still has contacts in the underworld, though, and he wants to know who killed his boy.

Ike and Buddy Lee, two ex-cons with little else in common other than a criminal past and a love for their dead sons, band together in their desperate desire for revenge. In their quest to do better for their sons in death than they did in life, hardened men Ike and Buddy Lee will confront their own prejudices about their sons and each other, as they rain down vengeance upon those who hurt their boys.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: homophobia, racism (including use of the n-word), misogyny, violence, blood/gore, kidnapping, child endangerment

OVERVIEW: I kept seeing this book on "best of" lists, so I figured I'd pick it up. I'm not normally a suspense/thriller reader, but the rave reviews and the premise were enough to pique my interest. Unfortunately, I seem to be in the minority: I didn't love this. I liked the idea of the story (who doesn't love a little revenge plot?), but in execution, it left a lot to be desired. The way the plot unfolded was just too clunky and showcased a lot of violence and homophobia. Moreover, the writing style just wasn't my jam; it was very heavy on the dialogue and privileged telling over showing, so it was difficult for me to read. Between the plot and the writing, I can only give this book 2 stars.

WRITING: I'm not sure in Cosby's writing style is typical of the suspese/thriller genre, but it just did not work for me. For one, it was extremely heavy on dialogue, to the point where a lot of info would be told to us through dialogue rather than shown. On top of that, characters seemed to offer up way too much information way too readily, which made the speech feel unnatural.

For two, even when we did get prose paragraphs, the sentences felt plain and didn't vary much in length or structure. I'm all for unadorned prose, but in this book, I didn't feel immersed in the world; instead, I felt like Cosby was trying to get through description as fast as possible in order to get to more dialogue.

For three, some scenes contained a lot of head hopping- so much so that at times, it was difficult to keep track of who was doing what (this was especially common in action scenes).

And lastly, the book as a whole felt overwritten. I didn't get the sense that Cosby trusted his reader enough to make connections, so a lot of the writing spelled things out to such a degree that there was no room for my brain to work. The effect of this is that I was frequently bored - I didn't have to engage with the story because the story doesn't leave room for it.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows two ex-cons - Ike and Buddy Lee - who bond over seeking revenge for the murders of their gay sons.

I'm aware that different readers will read this plot differently. Some might see it as a cathartic revenge fantasy and others might love the way our protagonists reflect on the ways they failed their sons. Personally, I felt as if I were reading a story about 2 gay men who are murdered so their homophobic fathers have an excuse to unleash their violent masculinity (think the women in refrigerators trope but instead of women, it's queer people). I absolutely understand the enjoyment of a revenge plot, but I did not get enjoyment out of this.

Also, the amount of casual racism and homophobia in this book is difficult to ignore. While I understand some of it is inserted to make a commentary on various social issues, there were times where I was just tired of it and it hampered my ability to enjoy the revenge plot.

Lastly, I didn't really think the revenge plot was all that suspenseful. While it occasionally relied on Ike and Buddy Lee using their criminal connections, nothing they did seemed particularly clever or like something a determined cop couldn't do with a laptop and some spare time. They tracked down their targets way too easily, and even their setbacks didn't seem to challenge them in ways that made them grow as characters.

CHARACTERS: This book has two main protagonists: Ike and Buddy Lee.

Ike is a Black ex-con who did 15 years in jail for various crimes including manslaughter. He has a gang tattoo and has connections to organized crime, and he uses those connections to get revenge.

Buddy Lee is also an ex-con who has been in and out of jail. He has connections to drug runners and gun dealers, and he also has an ex-wife who is married to a prominent Vurginia judge.

Personally, I wasn't satisfied by either of their character arcs. Most of their growth involved learning about how they failed their sons, which is nice, but not very nuanced. They pretty much just learned not to be homophobic, and while I think there is room for these stories, I'm not sure if I liked it here. I wish Ike and Buddy Lee had bonded in ways that felt more natural; as it stands, the two mainly become close by committing violence together and having dead sons. While they do talk to one another about being Black or being poor or what have you, these conversations felt forced and were delivered rather bluntly. As a result, their bond didn't feel genuine.

The antagonists were even less interesting than the protagonists, and I personally think that having chapters told from their point of view killed some of the suspense. They mainly just existed to be racist and homophobic, and while I don't think all antagonists need to be complex, it was odd to me that such flat antagonists got their own POV chapters.

TL;DR: Razorblade Tears attempts to be a revenge fantasy aimed at eliminating homophobes, but what it feels like is a story about queer people dying to give straight fathers a motivation for violence.

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  Hope your day has been/is going well!  Saw this response to the sniffing GIF and have been wheezing ever since.  In my defense, I could 1000% see this being Ian’s thought process. XD  Also, because my mind is a terribly inappropriate place most of the sometimes, I was also reminded of some of our discussions of Peter and things he wasn’t allowed to say/wear/do in the OUAT ‘verse. XD

Hey B! Honestly, so far, it’s going okay. Went to physical therapy to treat my triggerpoints (multiple) and deep tissues that are causing me pain (so much fun being voluntarily tortured). But for a good cause. Nice warm shower today, watched some The Last of Us, and now ready to write, so honestly, pretty good day. (Also my mom’s lawyer thinks there may be a chance to freeze John’s account (her about to be ex, my father) and get her money back so, fingers crossed!

Ok but I have to include this:

It’s too goddamn funny not too XD I am WHEEZING! And yeah I think that’s how that went, honestly XD.

Hehehehehe I remember those, I’m writing that down for the buddy cop thing, honestly I was gonna base a lot of it on OUAT canon truth be told. With some adaptations for this fic, but like Nathaniel and the rest of the Hales are back, the whole background with Elias and Odette, the stuff with Gerard and Chris, all of that is back too. I think the one change I made was Scott just being Melissa and Rafael’s son but I’m still on the fence about it, because I like the idea of Melissa and Claudia truth be told.

Speaking of my mind being a terrible place; if he’s acting as their sniffer dog in the buddy cop story, does he have a collar and leash to wear?  You know, for verisimilitude, or science, or whatever? *attempts to blink innocently, fails somewhat miserably*  Nearly responded to your “back in Teen Wolf hell” comment with “aren’t we all?”, but realized that implied I’d ever managed to get out. XD

Ehehehehe, well, you know Noah, as a druid would def have something up his sleeve and Chris, as a hunter, always comes prepared for the worst. Especially when it involves a Hale, in particular Peter. I mean true, but I am happy to be here again. I can feel creativity flowing and honestly I think a; fuck you Jeff Davis was just what I needed to get back to actually writing.

On a slightly more serious note, I was thinking about the changes in Peter’s wardrobe across the course of the series (at least as best I can tell/recall), and wondering if there might be any particular meta behind it or not.  Like, he starts out the end of Season 1 in a button down shirt, pants, and long jacket all in dark colors, perhaps slightly oversized.  After being resurrected, he enters his slut era and tends towards delightfully tight jeans and v-necks in mostly darker tones with some neutrals thrown in (I’m sure we all remember the Cardigan Incident when Cora is in the hospital. ;D )  From GIFsets I’ve seen of the whole Ghost Riders thing onwards he’s still in mostly dark colors, but with more conservative necklines this time, possibly with more short jackets making an appearance? (not sure there, didn’t actually watch those seasons), and now in the movie he’s back in an outfit very similar to Season 1, but in much lighter colors this time, and it looks like possibly even looser fits (that coat is wonderful, but borders on oversize, at least compared to his normal fits.)  I don’t know that there’s actually anything to it other than my brain being weird, but it occurred to me so I figured I’d throw it out there.  (Also, from what few GIFs I’ve seen, it looks like the only time Noah might be out of uniform in the movie is at some kind of funeral/wake for Derek?  Let the man wear civvies once in a while, goddammit! XD ) 

Ooooh good call! I always thought it was like a subconscious thing Peter did tbh. Like I am a ‘dad’ now so I have to start dressing more appropriately or something. At least that’s kinda the vibe I always thought, idk if they were going for that. And yeah, come on, Noah should absolutely just be put in more clothes than ‘funeral clothes’ or uniform. I don’t think we actually got a single scene of him wearing anything else tbh. I needed more clothing inspiration for him. Though I still love the band T idea and the flanels and henleys.

And yeah, I don’t know that I’d trust Davis to do something like the Eli/Elias thing deliberately, but I can absolutely believe it as a very potentially useful to fanfic accident. XD  (Also reminds me of how in the SW Legends books Leia names one of her kids Anakin to try and like, rehab the name or something.)

You know, I’m sending this thought to all Sterek fanfic writers everywhere because it’s def an interesting one to work with.

Anyway, since I mainly started this to send you that link, then got distracted (shocking, I know ;D ), I’m going to try and wrap up.  I hope everything is healing as well as it can (whether mental, physical, emotional, or otherwise), and that your pain levels are playing nice!  Sending all the best vibes and energy!  Take care!  *Lots of hugs to both of you!!!*

I love it when you get distracted though XD <3 Sending all the best vibes back and I hope you have a fantastic day too! Lots of love and hugs from me and Mo <3

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

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

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[once-upon-an-imagine]

To Love You More - Spencer Reid

A/N: ahh I have no idea how this turned out I honestly hope I did justice to it since the preview was the most popular one xD so I hope you loves like it! also this turned out suuuper long! my apologies in advance

Request -  Anonymous asked: Hi!! Could you write an imagine where spencer and the reader have been dating for a while and for some reason spencer gets mad at the reader and doesn’t wanna talk to her. When they’re on a case, the unsub fights with the reader and he beats her badly and he has a gun trained on her when spencer walks in but in order for the u sub todo not shoot spencer, she takes the bullet instead and it’s all fluffy when she gets out of surgery? That was so long sorry lol I can just imagine that after she returns from hospital back home Spencer literally moves in with her because he doesn’t want to let her do a single thing and when she gets better he doesn’t come back to his place and both of them accept it as a fact that ok now we’re living together, there is no other way, we don’t have to talk it through it’s the only natural and good way to do things, i love you

Warnings: insecurities and regular Criminal Minds stuff, reader getting hurt (mentions of it, nothing graphic)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Criminal Minds :D gif isn’t mine

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

To Love You More

I'll be waiting for you Here inside my heart I'm the one who wants to love you more

Derek Morgan arched his eyebrow when he saw his favorite genius and his usual partner in crime entering the bullpen, not even looking at each other. It was true that you weren't a fan of PDA, especially in the workplace, but today, it looked like you wanted to murder someone; well, more specifically, it looked like you wanted to murder each other. You each made your way to your desks, next to each other, yours in front of Derek's.

"Good morning to you two, lovebirds" he said with a smirk. You looked up from your desk to glare at him and Spencer let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up, Morgan" you said, getting up again. "I'm going to see Garcia" you muttered, grabbing your mug and walking out. Derek then turned to Spencer.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Excuse me? Why would you assume it's my fault?"

"Reid" Morgan warned him.

"She is being completely irrational!"

"Just apologize to her" David said, walking over to them and Spencer looked up at him. "Take it from me and my three failed marriages, kid. Just take the fault and apologize" he repeated.

"But I didn't do anything!" Spencer defended himself.

"What's going on? What did you do?" Hotch said, walking towards them as well.

"Nothing!"

“So your girlfriend’s pissed at you for no reason?” David asked, arching his eyebrow. 

“She’s not pissed at me!”

"I just passed her on the hallway and she didn't even respond when I said 'Good morning'" he explained.

"She's just having a tantrum" Spencer tried to convince them.

"Are you sure? I have never seen her this angry, Reid" Morgan said.

"Did you forget an anniversary?" Hotch suggested.

"No" Reid sighed. He knew they were not going to stop asking until he told them. "She wants me to move in with her" he confessed.

"Well, you kids have been together for a long time. It's only natural that you would. Do you not want to?" Rossi asked.

"I do. I want to and I know that would be the next logical step for us to take. I just..." he sighed, running his hands through his hair, frustrated. "Forty percent of couples split up after moving in together-"

"Oh, pretty boy, don't do that" Morgan said rolling his eyes. "Stop being all logical about this-"

"I have to! She is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Things are going perfect right now and I don't want to ruin that-"

"You won't. You two have beat odds before" Rossi insisted.

"Right now you're probably damaging things more than if you move in together with her" Hotch added. "She might be thinking that you don't want to move in with her because you're not taking your relationship seriously" he said.

"She wouldn't think that" Spencer tried to convince himself.

"Wouldn't she? Every aspect of your relationship has been on your terms, Reid" Morgan added.

"You two didn't tell the rest of the team about your relationship until you were ready" David said.

"She even waited for you to be ready to start a relationship-" Morgan reminded him.

"Alright" Spencer snapped. "So, what I'm hearing that I am a horrible boyfriend-"

"No one is saying that, Reid" Hotchner assured him. "We're just saying that she has always put your relationship first and it might be time that you start doing the same. Otherwise, she might think that you're not as committed to this relationship as she is" he explained.

"She wouldn't think that" Spencer repeated, nervously before looking back at Derek. "Would she?"

"Love, calm down" Penelope tried.

"I can't! I just have to face the fact that Spencer is just not as serious in this relationship as I am" you said, sadly.

"How can you say that?" Emily asked.

"Yes, Spencer is crazy about you. Everyone can see that" JJ assured you.

"Then why won't he move in with me?" you asked. "Would I be so terrible to live with?"

"No, honey. Nobody's saying that" Penelope said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I just... I don't get it. We've been together for almost two years and we've known each other for more than five" you said, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. "Maybe..." you sighed.

"Maybe what?" Emily asked, worried.

"M-maybe is because of Maeve" you muttered, crying.

"What? What do you mean?" JJ asked, confused.

"What about Maeve?" Emily insisted.

"I don't know. I mean... I know Spencer and I started dating about a year after everything that happened with her but... I've always wondered" you sighed.

"Wonder what?" Penelope asked.

"Maybe she was the love of his life and he will never love me like he loved her" you said, looking at them.

"Honey" JJ said, softly, walking over to hug you too.

"How can you say that?" Emily tried to support you. "Spencer adores you" she assured you.

"Yes, boo. We all know how much he loves you" Penelope said, holding your hand.

"B-but what's if that's not enough?" you said, looking at them.

"Agent Jareau?" another agent was at the door holding a folder in his hands. Most likely a new case. JJ walked over to the door and thanked the agent for the information.

"Sorry girls, conference room in ten" she said, before leaving.

"Do you want to seat this one out? I know you have a couple of days piled up. Hotch would probably-"

"No" you interrupted Emily. "I need to distract myself. And I don't want to go home... alone" you said, wiping away your tears and grabbing Penelope's mirror to fix yourself up. "Let's go" you sighed and walked out. Emily and Penelope looked at each other worriedly before following you.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Penelope asked, linking her arm in Emily's.

"Most likely no" she sighed.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Alright everyone, get some rest. We start first thing tomorrow" Hotch said, giving out their room keys. "Emily, you're with JJ, Morgan and Reid, Rossi with me and the two of you" he said looking at you and Penelope, before walking away with David and Emily did the same with JJ.

"We can switch. I can stay with Garcia-" Morgan started, trying to switch his key with you.

"It's okay" you said, pulling your hand away.

"It's fine" Spencer said at the same time and the two of you glared at each other.

"I'll stay with Penelope" you said.

"Fine, I'll stay with Derek" he replied. "You know, you are being incredibly childish about this-"

"You are being incredibly childish about this" you rolled your eyes, mocking his voice.

"Seriously?" he said, upset as Derek and Penelope only looked from one of you to the other, trying their best to go unnoticed.

"Seriously" you said still mocking his voice.

"This isn't the time or the place" he said, quietly.

"Fine" you said. "Besides, you made your point very clear" you glared at him again.

"Look, we can't talk about this here" he said, upset. "Right now we need to rest and we have work to do" he said.

"Fine" you said. "I don't want to talk to you either, Spencer" you said, looking away. "Come on, Pen" you said, turning around and walking away from them.

"I'm sorry, Spencer" Penelope said, apologetically. She had never seen you like this. "I'll talk to her, okay?"

"It's alright, Pen" he said with a sigh before going over to his bag and pulling out a small box. "If she can't sleep, she's going to want her favorite tea" he said handing the box to her and making Penelope's heart melt. "She always forgets it so, could you give that to her, please?"

"Of course" she assured him before she followed her friend.

"It'll be okay, pretty boy" Morgan said, placing his hand on his shoulder. "She'll come around" he told him. Spencer only nodded before the two of them left towards his room.

Throughout the next couple of days, you and Spencer only talked when it was necessary for the case. You weren't sure if Hotch was doing it on purpose, but he always left the two of you behind to work the case with Penelope, who tried to stay out of it as much as possible, while he, Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ would go out on the field.

"I can't seem to get the connection within the victims other than the fact that they're women" Spencer spoke, looking at the board in front of him.

"Well... they're all around the same age" you suggested.

"Yeah, but that is pretty much it" he explained. "No connection other than that. It seems rather simple for it to mean something" he insisted. "They don't even look the same. I just think it would be odd for our unsub to just pick at random-"

"Huh" you said, grabbing one of the victim's files.

"What?"

"They were all single" you said all of the sudden.

"Still seems a bit of a stretch" he frowned his eyebrows.

"Not when they were all recently single" you pointed out.

"What do you mean?" he said, walking over to you.

"Well, with every victim, the first person close to them that we interviewed stated that they had recently broken up" you explained, going through all four files of the victims.

"Do you think that's not a coincidence?"

"Well, is the closest connection we've got" you said. "I mean he said that they broke up because she cheated on him" you said with the first victim. "He said that they broke up because she was going to move away due to her job" you continued. "They broke up because they had a big fight about the wedding and decided to call it off" you said with the third one. "And they broke up because-" you stopped when you read the last one.

"What?" Spencer asked confused. "Why did they break up?"

"Nothing" you shrugged it off. "The point is they broke up about two weeks ago-"

"Why?" he repeated, grabbing the file from you.

"He said she had commitment issues" you said, looking away. "She wouldn't move in with him" you finished.

"Um-" Spencer started.

"Maybe is not a coincidence? That they all just recently broke up with their boyfriends-"

"I don't think that's it-"

"Why? Because I came up with it and not you? Now who's being childish?" you asked annoyed.

"No. But I just think-" but you were both interrupted when Derek came in with JJ.

"Hey, kids" he smiled. "Pretty girl, you're with me. We might have a lead on this guy" he said.

You didn't know why, but all of the sudden, you felt a wave of discomfort pass through you. For the past few days, you wanted nothing more than to be away from Spencer. But now that you had to leave with Morgan, something didn't feel right.

"Um... Spence?" you said, quietly. He turned to look at you to let you know he was listening.

"Yes?"

"Um" you said, feeling your heart clenching. You wanted to say sorry about everything and that you honestly didn't care if he didn't come live with you. You wanted to say that you loved him more than anything and anyone in this world and even if he didn't love you as much as Maeve, he was your favorite person and it would never change the way you felt about him. But the way he was looking at you right now, with his angry brown eyes, didn't let you. You just sighed and looked away. "Nothing" you muttered.

"See you later" he simply said as you left with Derek.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Morgan" Hotch said, getting out of the car with Spencer, Emily, and David.

"What happened?" Spencer asked before even Aaron had a chance to. He knew something was wrong when he didn't see you next to Derek. He could feel it.

"We split up" Morgan said.

"Why? We said we were on our way!" Reid snapped.

"It lead to the same place-"

"Where is she?" he said, fuming.

"I don't know" he said, worriedly.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW?" Spencer asked, feeling his heart pounding incredibly hard. "HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!"

"I did not let it happen on purpose! I thought it would be better if we covered more turf! We've done this a million times-"

"WELL, LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT FOR YOU!"

"Reid, you need to stay calmed" Aaron said, trying to be as calm as he could himself.

"Don't tell me what to be! My girlfriend is missing and is all your fault!" he said with tears threatening to fall down his face.

"MORGAN!" the entire team heard a piercing scream coming from inside the house. Spencer froze for a second. That was your voice. And then, his heart stop when a gunshot was heard.

"Reid, wait!" Hotch tried but he was already running inside the house and the rest of them quickly followed.

"FBI, put your hands where I can see them!" Spencer was the first one on the scene, pointing his gun at the unsub, as the rest of the team surrounded the abandoned house.

You had a big cut on your forehead, blood running down your nose, and bruises all over your face and your arms. The unsub immediately pulled you up from the floor by your hair, making you scream in pain. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pointed his gun at your head.

"That's him, isn't it?" the unsub said, grinning.

"N-no" you stuttered.

"Dr. Reid" he said, smirking.

"Put your gun down" Spencer said firmly, recognizing the boyfriend of the first victim. "Let her go."

"Why? Why would you care about her? She hurt you. They all do" he said, pointing the gun closer to you and making you whimper in pain. "She humiliated you! And in front of your friends!"

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asked, confused. And then, it hit him. The receptionist at your hotel. He saw his fight with you. "Listen to me" he said, trying to get him to lower his gun. He tried his best to remain calm. He knew that any wrong move, you would pay the consequences. "You have it all wrong-"

"No, I don't!" he snapped. "She hurt you!"

"No! I hurt her" he said.

"You're lying" he insisted.

"I'm not" he said, looking directly at you. "She wanted to take our relationship to the next level and I'm the one who was afraid to do it" he admitted as you cried a little harder.

"No! She's manipulating you" he said, burying the gun barrel in your head. "They all do!"

"Not her!" Spencer continued. "She's the greatest person I know" he said. "She's never left my side and she has made me a better person" he said. "If anyone is guilty of hurting the other one is me" he insisted. "You should shoot me-"

"No!" you cried as the unsub lowered his gun from you and pointed it at Spencer.

"I'm the one you want" Spencer said, raising his hands up in surrender when he saw Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss behind you and the unsub.

"Spencer!" you cried.

"I hurt her. Not the other way around!"

Before anyone could do anything else, you had elbowed the unsub hard on his stomach and wrapped your arms around the one he was holding the gun with, trying to take the gun away from him.

"No!" Spencer yelled before they could all hear two gunshots. One on your leg, coming from the unsub's gun. And the second one, from Prentiss' gun into the unsub's chest. "Sweetheart!" Spencer yelled, kneeling down towards you as the rest of the team dealt with the unsub and called an ambulance. "Look at me, love" he said, placing your face between his hands. "Look at me, you have to stay awake, honey" he cried, feeling his heart break when he saw the bruises that covered your beautiful face.

"S-Spence" you said, crying from the pain. "I am s-so sorry" you whispered.

"No. I'm sorry, love" he said, kissing your forehead. "You need to stay awake. The ambulance is on its way-"

"P-please don't leave me" you said, holding his hand tighter. "I swear I didn't mean any of it-"

"I know, sweetheart, I know" he assured you. "Shh, it's going to be okay" he promised you. "Just stay awake for me, okay? I love you!"

"I love you too" you smiled before you felt your eyes giving out.

"No! Love, wake up!"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Hey, kid" Derek said, bringing Spencer a cup of coffee. "How are you holding up?"

"I can't believe I let this happen to her" he said, grabbing the coffee, gratefully.

"Whoa, Reid. None of this is your fault-"

"Yes, it is" he said, looking at him. "If we hadn't been fighting, he wouldn't have seen that at the hotel and he wouldn't have taken her-"

"There's no way you could have known he was there. None of us thought it-"

"I didn't even say anything when she left" he cried. "She wanted to tell me something. I could feel that. And I just said 'See you later'. I didn't say anything else-"

"There's no way you could have known-"

"She knew" he said, defeated. "She was right. She told me that all the victims were recently single. She saw something there and I just brushed it off-"

"Hey, Reid, you have to give yourself a break, kid. She's going to be okay-"

"W-what if she's not?" he said, with tears in his eyes.

"Dr. Reid?"

Everyone stood up when the doctor approached the team. Reid and Hotchner, standing at the front.

"Yes?"

"She's awake" she said, making everyone sigh in relief, Emily hugging Penelope and JJ. "She has a broken leg, three broken ribs, a broken wrist, and several bruises but all of her injuries are mostly superficial. We want to keep her tonight for observation but she should be fine" she instructed. "She's a real fighter" she assured them. "She's asking to see you" she said, looking at Spencer.

"You go" Aaron told him. "We will come back later" he said and Spencer thanked them before he ran towards your room.

"Love" he said, walking into the room and sitting next to you.

"Spence" you said, trying to sit up, but regretting it when you felt the sharp pain in your ribs.

"Love, don't move" he said, helping you and placing the pillows behind you.

He kissed your forehead and then pulled back a little. He tried his best to not cry at the scene in front of him. You had a big bandage on your forehead and the bruises were visible on your face, your neck, and your arms.

"Don't cry, love" you said, wiping away the tear from his cheek. He hadn't even noticed he was. "It looks worse than it feels, I swear" you assured him.

"I am so sorry-"

"None of this was your fault, love" you told him.

"Yes it-"

"Spencer, look at me" you said, firmly, grabbing his face with your good hand and forcing him to face you. "None of this was your fault" you said. "I'm okay" you said with a weary smile. "And I love you" you said.

"I love you too" he said, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. "So much" he said, hugging you towards him. "I can't believe I almost lost you" he whispered, cupping your cheek with his hand carefully.

"I'm okay" you repeated with a small smile, grabbing his trembling hand with yours. "I am so sorry, Spence" you continued. "For everything-"

"No, love, I'm sorry-"

"No" you interrupted. "I am. I didn't mean for this to get so out of hand and... we don't have to move in together if you're not ready. I don't want to pressure you about it, I just... I got scared when you said no" you muttered, looking away.

"Love, I promise you that this has nothing to do with my love or commitment for you" he assured you. "I love you more than I can express" he continued. "I just..."

"Is it because of Maeve?" you blurted out, with tears falling down your cheeks.

"What?" Spencer asked confused.

"I'm sorry" you quickly said. "I didn't mean to bring her up, I just-"

"No, love. Please talk to me" he insisted. "I have to know what you're feeling and what you're thinking" he said.

"I just..." you sighed. You were in this whole mess because you didn't talk so might as well give it a try. "I got scared when you said you didn't want to move in with me because... I'm sometimes... afraid that..." you looked away.

"Afraid that what?" he asked, softly brushing your cheek with his thumb and making you look at him.

"That... maybe Maeve was the love of your life and you don't-"

"Please, don't finish that sentence" he interrupted you. "Listen to me" he said in a serious tone, placing your face gently between his hands. "I am not going to tell you that I didn't love Maeve, because I did" he started. "And losing her was one of the most difficult things that I've had to go through" he said. "But, darling, please don't ever doubt that you are the love of my life" he said, with a few tears escaping his eyes. "I love you more than I had any idea I could ever love someone" he continued. "After what happened with Maeve, you came into my apartment and slept on my couch for three weeks, remember?" he asked and you nodded. "No matter how much I asked you to leave and how many times I snapped at you... you wouldn't leave" he remembered. "I didn't realize it then and... when I finally did, it terrified me" he confessed. "But I love you. And I have loved you ever since the first day you came to work at the BAU. You were extremely nervous and you had so many things in your hands and you tripped and dropped everything, making Morgan spill his coffee" he said with a small chuckle. "I remember thinking finally there's someone in here more awkward than me" he said, making you laugh a little. "And I have loved you ever since" he assured you. "And I am sorry if I ever made you feel any less than loved" he said.

"Spence" you said, softly. "You've never made me feel that way" you assured him. "You always make me feel like I am the most important person in the world-"

"Because you are" he smiled.

"I love you so much, Spence" you cried a bit more. "I'm sorry for this whole mess" you repeated. "I just want to be with you, Spence" you said, pulling him closer to you.

"I love you too" he said, tightening his grip around you and kissing your head.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Spencer, I can walk" you laughed as he helped you to the sofa on your apartment.

It had been a couple of weeks since you returned home and Spencer hadn't left your side for a minute.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, ignoring your comment.

"Better" you smiled up at him. The bruises were slowly fading and you pretty much only still had the cast on your foot and a bandage on your wrist, but Spencer was going to make sure that he was there to tend to your every need. "Honestly, Spence. You didn't have to sit this one out-"

"Enough, love. Hotch even insisted that we took a few days" he assured you. "So, you just stay here and relax and I am going to go get us dinner" he told you. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Hmm" you thought for a while. "Pizza?"

"Of course" he said, kissing your cheek. "I will be back really soon. I just need to go to my apartment really quick to get more clothes and then I'll go get the pizza" he said, smiling at you. "Are you going to be okay while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Spencer, I promise I can keep myself out of trouble for the two hours maximum that you will be gone" you laughed and he did as well.

"I love you" he said, kissing your forehead.

"I love you too" you said as he walked out of the living room. But as soon as he stepped out, he was back in. "Did you forget your keys?"

"I don't... want to leave" he admitted.

"Spencer, I swear I will be fine-"

"No, is not that" he said, walking over to sit next to you again. "I'm just... tired of going back and forth to my apartment to get more clothes" he said.

"Well, I can make more room in my closet for you and you can bring a big load this time-"

"No, love" he chuckled. "I mean... I don't want to go back to my apartment" he said. "I... don't want to live by myself anymore" he told you. "I... want to live with you" he smiled.

"You do?" you asked, feeling your heart flutter.

"If you still want to" he said. You were too excited to say anything, so instead, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shrieking in excitement. "Darling, your wounds" he said when he heard you whine as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Sorry" you said, pulling away a little. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been more sure in my entire life" he said, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. "I was so worried before that I would screw it up-"

"Why would you think that?" you asked sadly.

"I don't know" he said, honestly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I didn't want to ruin it. But these past couple of weeks just made me finally realize that I want to spend as much time as I can with you" he smiled. "I want to live with you and try to make you as happy as you make me" he said, kissing you softly on the lips.

"Do you want to live here? Or do you want us to move to your apartment-?"

"I don't care" he shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you want" he insisted.

"Oh, really?" you arched your eyebrow at him. "I can get used to this" you laughed.

"What are you talking about? You constantly get away with what you want" he reminded you.

"You constantly get away with what you want" you mocked his voice.

"I hate you" he laughed.

"You love me" you reminded him and he kissed your forehead.

"I do" he smiled.

"Can we order the pizza instead? Now I don't want you to leave" you said, snuggling closer to him.

"I still need clothes" he said.

"You do know that I own a washing machine, right?"

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: ahhh xD I really hope you liked it! let me know what you think

[sineala]

Final thoughts on the mini series? I love hearing your views ❤️

Thank you for asking! I really appreciate your asks!

My answer is a little long so it is going under this Read More.

A Captain America/Iron Man team-up series is something I have wanted to see for literal years, and I assume that this is a desire that I share with many other Steve/Tony fans. The other big team-up stories that exist (everything that got collected in that one Cap/IM anthology trade as well as One Night in Madripoor) are certainly well-regarded in fandom and, yeah, I'd been hoping for more. So I was really glad when this was announced, although honestly I would have preferred it to be called Tales of Suspense for the sheer nostalgia value.

My confidence about Marvel's current ability to write stories about Tony Stark, specifically, meant that the bar here was actually fairly low -- like, as long as Tony wasn't an asshole who was hated by all his friends, I was probably going to like it no matter what, and even if he was an asshole, at least it would be a comic book with Steve and Tony on every page. (It's harder, in my opinion, for Marvel to write really bad Steve comics; for me the usual fail state of bad Cap comics is more "well, this is meh.")

So I was pleasantly surprised to find that this series was, in fact, pretty good. Let's call it "really good." I'm feeling generous. It's not perfect, but I am so glad it exists. I have bought so many of the variant covers and am going to buy the trade because I want to communicate to Marvel that they should make another one exactly like this.

I was pretty sure this was going to be good even from reading the promotional interviews with Derek Landy when they first announced the book. I know the interviews are designed to make you want to buy the book, but everything he was saying in them about how he was taking inspiration from ToS sounded really good and he seemed to see the characters the same way I did.

So, yeah, I think he nailed it.

I like when superhero comics concern themselves with what it means to be a superhero, and he really went there with this one. I liked that the villain was someone whose motivations were presented like they might belong to a real person (superheroes are dangerous vigilantes!) as opposed to "but I don't want to cure cancer! I want to turn people into dinosaurs!" But mostly I think he really did a great job with Steve and Tony.

There's a dynamic you see a fair amount of in fanfiction that's basically "Steve and Tony take turns comforting each other" and that feels like what this was, to me. Except canon. Tony is upset and hating himself and Steve cheers him up! Then Steve is upset about Secret Empire and Tony cheers him up! And they both play it off a little as "you're being weird" but it's clear that they really care about each other and reading it is like "Wow! I read that fic! I think I wrote that fic! And here it is in canon!" so, y'know, I feel really vindicated in my assessments of these characters.

(Tony being upset that Veronica never called after spending the night with him is, like, Peak Tony. And the bit with Tony hating on himself and Steve being like "that's not who you are to me" is perfect. I think Steve's Captain America Speeches were on point, especially his defense of superheroing in #5. Also him cheering Tony up.)

All the little emotional moments were really, really solid. Steve at Tony's apartment in issue 2 giving him a pep talk! Steve showing up at the end of issue 5 with coffee! And of course the comfort bits. I mentioned those. But, like, they were the best. I feel like even the MCU Steve/Tony fans who don't ordinarily do comics would like this one.

I also really enjoyed that the plot was related to previous canon events. And I don't just mean the canon deep cut of using The Overseer from Iron Man #29 as a villain. It's rare for comics to refer to things that are more than a couple years old, so I was pleasantly surprised that the Initiative played a major role. I also enjoyed the Secret Empire references -- for all that Secret Empire is relatively recent, I feel like canon hasn't dealt much with the fallout in the sense of dealing with how Steve feels about this. So him having to wear Hydra Cap's armor was an interesting and welcome move, and honestly I think it's even more interesting that Tony seemed to be way more upset about that than Steve was. There's probably a fic in that.

(I know I have said it before but I feel like there's also interesting fic potential in the fact that neither Steve nor Tony have personal experiential memories of either of the two things they're upset about. When the Initiative happened, Steve was dead; Tony was alive, but his brain delete covers that period of time, so he doesn't remember it. When Secret Empire happened, Tony was in a coma and Steve was stuck in a weird forest inside a Cosmic Cube -- while both of them certainly know what happened, they didn't live through it in the usual way.)

(Okay, there's also room for fic about Tony inviting Steve up to his apartment for coffee. Heh.)

The art was, in my opinion, mostly decent. Usually "decent" is good enough for me (I have loved a lot of runs with art that could have been much better) but in this case I feel like there were moments where it was clear that Steve was supposed to be good-looking -- like, the bit with the women swooning over him in issue #1 -- and the art just didn't get there. Basically I guess I did not click with the artist's Steve. The Tony was fine, except for the panels where he was shorter than Steve while in armor. But, you know, it was fine. The Alex Ross covers were Shiny.

If I could change one thing about this series I would have had Steve and Tony be on-panel together more. For a team-up mini, I kind of want... teaming up, you know? And while they were certainly on the same side, a lot of this, especially the last couple issues, were Steve and Tony separately figuring out what was going on in the plot and communicating it to each other while not anywhere near each other. I'm not saying they have to be handcuffed together but I would have liked them to stick together a little more. The pacing of the plot was fine, sure, but I wasn't reading this for the plot.

The plot definitely seemed to be wide-open for a sequel, though. Which I appreciate.

But anyway, yes, the characterization was perfect and the emotional moments were perfect and I will take twelve more of these anytime, please and thank you.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

You Are Perfect

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes x PlusSize!Reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Summary/Request: Can you write an imagine with Bucky and a plus size reader (if your comfortable with it) and basically the reader was going on a date but they got stood up and the date said next time to tell people their weight before going out, making the reader insecure, Bucky sees them crying when the come back to the tower, so he then tells her to clean herself up cause he’s gonna take her out and he reminds and shows her how beautiful she is. The rest is just fluff and you can add to it.

Notes: I hope I did this justice. 

You never liked dating apps. You honestly didn’t know someone who really did. But Natasha insisted you get on one so that you could try and find someone. She even knew that you had a crush on Bucky, and still insisted that you get on a dating app. That only made you come to the conclusion that Natasha knew that Bucky didn’t feel the same. He was your best friend after all, and that was probably all you were going to be to him.

Natasha set up your profile, checking with you on the pictures to make sure you felt comfortable. It was hard for you to feel comfortable sharing pictures sometimes, especially when you knew you were bigger than a lot of other girls. After the pictures, Nat had done the swiping and eventually set up a date.

That date was tonight and both Natasha and Wanda were in your room getting you ready. They had picked the outfit, done your makeup and your hair, all without letting you peek. Wanda, with your permission, had made it so your eyes couldn’t see. Allowing them to work freely on you without any worries of you seeing.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky greeted, knocking on the door as he opened it. “Do you— uh, what’s going on here?”

“Y/N’s going on a date!” Wanda exclaimed.

“A… a date?”

“Yeah! We’re getting her ready.”

“Speaking of which,” Natasha added, looking you over, “we’re almost done.”

“Good because I’m getting nervous,” you commented, softly. “Do I… Do I look okay?” Bucky didn’t answer right away.

“You look beautiful. Right, Buck?” Natasha pressed.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered nervously. “You look great, Y/N. I’m just going to leave you guys to it.” 

He quickly shut the door. You deflated, shoulders shagging and head down. All you wanted was to impress Bucky, which obviously wasn’t happening.

“Na-huh, none of that,” Natasha said, guiding your head back up. “You look beautiful and you will have great time.”

“What’s his name again?” You asked.

“Derek!” Wanda excited answered.

“He enjoys a good beer, he works out,” Natasha began explaining. "He’s a lawyer, I think. Don’t worry, not one of Starks. And occasionally enjoys long walks in Central Park.”

“Wow,” you rolled your eyes. “Sounds like I should just marry him now.”

“Hey,” Nat playfully swatted at you. “Stop. Can you agree to at least try?”

“Fine.” 

You took a long look in the mirror. Your friends had really gotten an outfit that flattered you, so your confidence did begin to grow. You were going to be able to do this. You were going to be able to have fun and begin to move on from Bucky. At least, that’s what you had started to tell yourself.

~~~

You arrived at the restaurant first, nervously playing around with the napkin on your lap. You had immediately ordered a drink when you arrived so that you couldn’t feel too awkward waiting there. So wrapped up in your own nervous thoughts, you failed to realize that Derek was going on 20 minutes late. Maybe he was stuck in traffic?

“Do you want to begin ordering?” The kind waitress asked.

“No, I think I’ll—“ 

You were halted by your phone beeping. You glanced at it to see a notification from the dating app. Maybe it was Derek. You quickly opened the app and pressed into the notification.

Derek: You might want to warn a guy about your weight before a date next time. Or change the pictures on your profile to more accurately depict you.

The waitress tried to hold in a gasp as she read the message over your shoulder. There were immediate tears in your eyes. Letting out a trembling breath, you stood up.

“Ma’am, how about I get the chef to—“

“I’m fine,” you cut the waitress off. “I’m so sorry to waste your time.” With shaking hands, you pulled out an a hundred dollar bill that Tony had given you for emergencies. You set the bill on the table. 

“No, I can’t—“

“Please, for your troubles.” A few tears escaped your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

And you rushed out of the restaurant. The night was chilly and you had failed to bring a jacket. Looking around, you decided that you wanted to walk back to the Tower. You held onto your arms for warmth and you walked down the street and cried. When you got back to the Tower, your nose was red and running, not just from crying.

You were grateful that the Tower lobby was practically empty and that no-one entered the elevator with you. You wanted to go straight to your room, but your stomach had begun growling.

“FRIDAY?” You quietly called out to the AI.

“Yes, Y/N?” It responded.

“Is anyone in the kitchen?”

“At the moment, no. I do suggest you hurry. Sargent Barnes tends to get a drink around this time.”

With a sigh, you gave in to your stomach and allowed the elevator to stop on the common floor. You were on high alert as you headed for the kitchen, checking around every corner your came across. Eventually you made it to the kitchen, quickly grabbing a various amount of foods that you could carry. Struggling to see over the pile in your arms, you turned around and instantly ran into something—or someone. Causing everything you had grabbed to fly everyone.

“Yikes, doll,” Bucky chuckled. You quickly crotched down and began picking everything up. “Wait…” Bucky joined you. “Shouldn’t you still be out on a date?” 

You didn’t answer, you didn’t even make a move to look at him. You just kept your head down as you rapidly picked up everything.

“Hey,” Bucky said, setting his hand gently on yours. He leaned his head down, trying to get a look at your face. “Can you look at me, Y/N?”

“I’m…” you cleared your voice, having sounded like you had been crying. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Look at me.”

“Bucky…”

“Did he hurt you?” You didn’t respond, letting a tear fall down your cheek and off your chin. “Y/N, did he lay a hand on you?”

“I…” You let out a whimper. “He…”

“I’m going to kill him,” Bucky growled, standing up. “Stay here. I’ll be—“

“No, Bucky, don’t!” You quickly got up and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Please. He didn’t touch me, I promise.”

Bucky took in your blood shot eyes and tear stained face, and his heart felt like it could shatter into a million pieces. He stepped closer to you, slowly reaching up his hand to brush his fingers against your cheek. You looked away.

“What happened?” Bucky whispered. “Tell me, please. I just want to help.”

You licked your lips as you nodded. Taking in and letting out a shuttering breath, you closed your eyes and tried to pull your thoughts together.

“He… I… He was late. And I…” You looked down out your hands, fiddling with them. “I thought it was just traffic, but after almost 30 minutes I got a message… and, from what he said, he had to have come to the restaurant and then left… my weight...”

“And what did the message say?” Bucky pressed, his tone gentle and kind.

“It… it said that I should have warned him about my weight before the date.”

“Your weight?” Bucky was shocked and so confused. What did your weight have to do with anything?

“And that I should change my profile pictures to more accurately depict me…”

“What? What gave him the right to say any of that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “But maybe—“

“No! No but maybe. You don’t believe any of that, right?” Bucky’s hands went to your shoulders and he moved his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, please tell me that you don’t believe a word that bastard said.”

“He’s not wrong… I’m not as small as many girls. I need to lose weight—”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no. Y/N, listen to me.” His hands moved to hold your face. “You are perfect just the way you are. Your weight is perfect for you. And you deserve better than that asshole. You hear me?”

“You’re saying those things because you have to… you’re my friend…”

Bucky shook his head slightly, wanting to tell you that it was more than that. That he wanted to be more than that. But he knew now was not the time.

“We’re going out,” he stated, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the elevator.

“No, Bucky,” you resisted, so tried too. “I really don’t feel like it. Plus there’s that mess—“

“Steve will clean it up in the morning. He’s always the first one up and OCD like that.”

“Bucky… I really don’t feel like going out.”

“Fine. Then we’ll stay in.” He led you into the elevator, only for himself to step back out of it. “Meet me in the movie room in 10 minutes. Change into something comfy.”

The doors began closing. “Bucky—“

“I’ll come up for you if you’re late.”

~~~

Though you didn’t want to, you did as you were told and met Bucky in the movie room 10 minutes later. You had changed into your comfiest, baggiest clothes, trying to hide your body from the world. When you arrived, Bucky had your favorite movie up on the screen, the popcorn machine going, and he was carrying blankets to the couch. That man worked fast.

“Right on time,” he smiled at you. 

“You really didn’t have to,” you replied, shyly. 

“Oh, I really did.” He plopped onto the couch, patting the spot next to him. “Come, sit.”

Fiddling with your sleeves you walked over and sat next to Bucky, making sure there was a decent amount of space between the two of you. Bucky sighed, noticing what you were doing but decided to give you your wanted space for a little bit. He started the movie and had FRIDAY dim the lights before handing you a blanket. 

Not long into the movie, the popcorn was done and Bucky went up to get it. He put it in a large bowl before sitting himself next to you. You inhaled sharply as he set the bowl between you and rested his arm behind you on the back of the couch.

It was the middle of the movie now and you reached into the bowl for some popcorn, at the same time Bucky did. Your eyes snapped to look at him. Without taking his eyes off of yours and before you could pull away, he carefully took your hand and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“You are perfect,” he whispered, breath fanning over your hand. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Thank you, Bucky,” you breathed out. “For all of this. You really didn’t have to.”

“I couldn’t let my favorite gal’s night be completely ruined.”

“I’m your favorite gal?”

“Since day 1… you deserve better than a man who doesn’t see your worth.”

“And you think you’re that?”

“I’d like to try to be that for you. If you’d let me… so, Y/N, what do you say? Will you let me try and show you how perfect you are?”

You tried to suppress a smile. “I’d like that."

[babymetaldoll]

The BAU First online Secret Santa (aka: Rossi vs Zoom)  (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Summary: Rossi might have said too much when he wasn't muted in the BAU online Secret Santa Celebration. And Reid is too embarrassed to face (Y/N) afterward.

Requested: Yes. My boyfriend asked me to write this, and asked for some specific gifts for some team members. (Based on season 7 of Criminal Minds in COVID quarantine).

Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader- feat the whole team 

Warnings: None

Word count: 3K

Masterlist 

.

- “Hello?”- Penelope waved at Rossi, but he didn’t reply. She sighed and stared at the camera on her computer, and nearly started jumping and waving. 

- “Rossi!! Hey!”

- “Penelope??”- Rossi screamed, looking at the screen, unable to find the tab with the Zoom video conference on his navigator. He could hear her but couldn’t see her. 

- “Where are you??”

- “Rossi!! I can’t hear you! you are muted!”- Penelope was already frustrated, and it had been only two minutes. 

Rossi had been struggling using Zoom the whole quarantine. Every online meeting for the last couple of months had been filled with “Rossi, you are muted,” “Rossi, we can see you picking your nose,” “Rossi, you aren’t mute, we can hear you fart.” It had been as frustrating as funny for the team. 

- “Hey!”- Prentiss waved at the camera- “Where’s everybody?”

- “We’ve got Rossi trying to find us and unmute his mic”- Emily chuckled and nodded- “And Hotch just logged in… hey!”

- “Hello everybody”- Aaron Hotchner waved, and his son Jack appeared in the back of the room, waving too. 

- “Did you clean your room?”- he asked his son

- “Yes…”- it was clear Jack was lying

- “So if I go upstairs right now, your room is going to be clean, your bed made, and your toys in their place?- Jack stayed still and just smiled. Slowly, he turned around and ran back to his room. 

- “Hey, how did you change your background?”- Emily asked Garcia, who started explaining how to do it. 

- “Henry! what is it?”- JJ logged into the conversation, but her attention was really on her son, who kept crying somewhere near her. 

- “Hello? Hey? can you hear me?”

- “Hey Spence!!”- Prentiss and Garcia said at the same time and chuckled. 

- “Hello! How’s everybody!”- he smiled and stared at his screen. 

For someone who hated technology, he was pretty comfortable meeting the team online. Maybe because his germaphobic self was glad they didn’t have to go to the BAU if there was a pandemic going on.   

Germs were worse than technology, which was good to know when it came to his phobias. 

- “Baby girl, what are you doing?”- Derek’s voice interrupted Garcia’s class of “How to change backgrounds one on one.” Emily enjoyed her time switching pictures on his background, laughing, while JJ tried to convince Henry to eat his banana. Hotch was reading a case file, not paying attention to anything going on around him. Rossi was lost and muted still, trying to find the right tab in his browser, and Spencer was reading a book, sipping a cup of coffee.  

- “Hey!!”- (Y/N) waved at the screen and stared at the scene. Everyone in the BAU was on their little bubble.  

- “Hello, hey! How are you?”- Spencer closed the book and waved. (Y/N) blushed and waved back. She just stared at him, and all the memories of their last video call came to mind. 

They had literally spent the night together. They started a video call around seven, then cooked dinner. Spencer actually cooked ‘cos (Y/N) gave him an easy cooking lesson online. Both of them ate spaghetti with homemade bolognese sauce. 

They started talking and talking, drinking tea, and coffee, and cocoa, and more tea. They snuggled on their couches and kept on talking, laughing. Somehow they started reading each other their favorite parts of their favorite books. And somehow, they ended up in their beds, drinking one last cup of tea. They were hugging a pillow, wishing they could actually hug each other, but never saying those words. And so they kept talking until they fell asleep. 

(Y/N) had fallen asleep first. Spencer felt he had bored her ‘till she passed out, but the truth was, she had made her best effort to stay awake but failed at four in the morning. She loved talking with Spencer. She loved Spencer, all of him, including all the facts and statistics he would ramble on for hours. 

If only she knew he felt the same. He could hear her ramble about books and albums she loved. He didn’t know half the bands she talked about but always googled them after their conversations to understand her a little bit better. And to add facts to their next talk. 

.

- “Rossi! Rossi! unmute your mic”- Aaron repeated for the hundredth time during the call, but Rossi still had no idea what he was doing. 

- “Ok, ok, don’t touch anything, I’m hacking into your computer,”- Garcia simply said, already tired of waiting. It wasn’t the first time she had done it during the latest months. I wouldn’t be the last either. 

- “Hello? can you hear me?”

- “Yes, David”- Aaron nodded and almost smiled- “Hello everybody, I trust you are all having a nice day.”

It was their annual Secret Santa, and for the first time, it was online. They had all made sure to mail their presents earlier enough, and everybody had gotten theirs already. It was December 24th, and though it was still just noon, Rossi enjoyed the first whiskey of the day.  

.

- “I sent you all cookies!!”- Penelope clapped and smiled, staring into the camera- “Did you all get it?”

- “Yes!”- they all answered but (Y/N). 

- “No… I didn’t”

- “What?! But I sent them yesterday! the delivery said you had gotten them,”- Penelope explained, but (Y/N) just shook her head. 

- “Sorry Garcia, I just got my Secret Santa present this week, and that’s it”

- “Someone stole your cookies, pretty girl!”- Derek chuckled and took a bit of one of his- “Your lost, ‘cos they are delicious.” 

- “Great… not only I get to spend Christmas alone, now I have to bake my own cookies.”- she groaned and sighed. 

- “What? Alone?”- JJ was in shock- “What about your family? Family get-togethers are allowed this weekend. It just has to be less than ten people in each house.” 

- “They live in Seattle, and I can’t travel ‘cos I don’t wanna expose my grandparents to any risk, so I decided to spend Christmas alone”- (Y/N) cut the team a short smile. They all wide opened their eyes in shock. Christmas alone was never a good plan. 

- “Me and Jack are going to spend it with his grandfather and aunt. We would be glad to have you over.”- Hotch immediately said, and (Y/N) smiled.

- “Thank you, but that’s ok, it’s just Christmas…”- that really didn’t sound good. 

- “I’m gonna be alone too,”- Spencer texted her ‘cos he didn’t want to say it in front of the team- “Do you wanna spend Christmas with me? I can save you some cookies”. 

(Y/N) chuckled as she read, and Spencer smiled, staring at her. You don’t usually get to see the reaction of the person you text. And he loved it. 

- “Why are you going to be alone?”- she wrote back

- “Same as you, I don’t wanna expose my mom, and she is all the family I’ve got. She’ll spend Christmas with aunt Ethel”. 

- “Hey! (Y/N), are you listening?”- Penelope waved and nearly yelled. 

- “Sorry, what?”- (Y/N) left the phone aside and tried to focus on the team. 

- “JJ was saying you are also welcome to spend it with her mom, Henry, and Will.”

- “Thank you guys, but… I think I’ll be ok.” 

She blushed at those words and made her best not to look at Spencer as she smiled. Which was incredibly useless, ‘cos no one knew where Spencer’s image was on her screen. And at the same time, it was so easy for the team to profile what was going on. That’s why neither of them said another word.

- “Ok, can we start opening presents now?”- Prentiss asked. Her background was now a beach, and she had put on a big hat and sunglasses. Penelope and JJ laughed at her so loud that they didn’t listen when Aaron said they should make a distant toast. 

- “Wait! let me get something to drink!”- (Y/N) stood up quickly and poured herself a cup of tea. 

- “Ok, now I’m ready, sorry”- and when she looked at the screen, Spencer was blushing, and everybody was chuckling. 

- “What did I miss?”

- “Nothing pretty girl”- Derek just smiled- “Let’s do the presents thing… who wants to start?”

- “Henry is pretty restless today, so if you guys don’t mind, I want to start”- JJ waved and showed everybody her present. 

“You have to guess who gave you your present,”- Emily explained and sipped her cup of coffee. 

- “Alright… let’s see… I got this envelope from my Secret Santa and… it’s just what I needed!!”- JJ smiled and nearly jumped on her seat

- “It’s a whole spa day!! Mom needs a day off when this pandemic ends!! thank you, Secret Santa!!” 

- “Who do you think gave you that?”- Penelope asked, and JJ looked at each one of her teammates on the screen.

- I’m gonna go with… Hotch, ‘cos I think he understands exactly what’s like being a parent in quarantine- Aaron chuckled and shook his head. 

- “Sorry, I would have given you that, though, but it wasn’t me.”

- “Then who?”- Rossi raised his hand and smiled

- “I noticed you were a little… stressed last time we talked. I thought maybe when this whole thing ends, you would enjoy a day to treat yourself.”

- “Thank you so much, Rossi. I really appreciate it!!”

 .  

The whole team continued opening their presents and laughed, trying to guess who was their Secret Santa. Hotch got a horrible (and yet adorable) Christmas sweater with a gigantic Rudolph on it and a matching one for Jack. He guessed right away it was from Penelope. 

Hotch bought García a fantastic pair of high heels and confessed he had picked them himself. Aaron Hotchner had a pretty good fashion sense. Who knew? 

Rossi opened his present and laughed, shocked. It was one costly and hard to find Scotch bottle. He thought it was from Emily, but no, it was from (Y/N). 

- “I remembered you said it was your favorite, and I thought maybe you’d like to share it with us next time we have a real get-together in your house.”

- “It’s very nice and naive of you to think I might actually share this present with anyone”- Rossi smiled and waved at the screen- “Thank you, kid.”

Emily got a weekend in Vegas from JJ to make it up for the “Sin to Win” weekend she lost because of a case a few months before. And again, she refused to explain to the team what “Sin to Win” meant. 

Morgan got a life provision of baby oil to rub on his six pack and biceps each time he took his shirt off. It was a joke from Emily, and Rossi nearly had a heart attack laughing at it. Penelope wanted a demonstration, but Derek promised a private show. Prentiss also got him a new kit of tools for home repairs, which always came in handy for him… mostly to fix all the doors he kicked. 

- “And what did you get, Spence?”- JJ asked, now holding Henry in her arms, trying to keep him calm. Reid opened his present and smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile though, it was a “are you fucking kidding me?” smile.   

- “Dating for Dummies”- he said and showed the book- “And I’m pretty sure this is from Morgan.”

- “As soon as this quarantine ends, you and I are going to a club, so you better study that book, ‘cos I’m gonna make you put it on good use.”

Morgan joked, but after all those years, it just wasn’t funny anymore, not for Spencer, at least. 

- “And last but not least, what did you get (Y/N)?”- Penelope’s eyes were shining. She loved Secret Santa. She had forced Hotch to put on his sweater, and he was now feeling like a dork on camera. Garcia, of course, had taken many screen-captures to save that amazing moment. 

- “Well, I’m pretty sure this is from Spencer”- she smiled, ‘cos he was the only one left. He blushed and waved. 

- “I hope you like it”- (Y/N) unwrapped the present carefully and smiled, surprised. 

- “Where did you get this?”- it was an original edition of The Little Prince, in french. It was tough to find. 

- “You said you loved the book ‘cos your mom read it to you when you were a kid, so… I thought you’d like it.”

(Y/N) couldn’t stop going through each page, as a million memories of her childhood came to her mind. Her mother had passed away when she was in high school, and the book meant more to her than anyone could imagine. 

- “Thank you”- she whispered and bit her lip, making her best not to cry. 

- “Jesus Christ! When is he going to tell her he loves her!?”- Rossi nearly yelled. He was in the back of his office, pouring himself a glass of his Secret Santa present. 

The whole team stayed quiet, making their best not to laugh. Spencer wanted to die. He rested his head on the desk and controlled the urge to leave the conversation. 

- “Hey, Rossi… just so you know, you weren’t muted.”- Prentiss managed to say and chuckled. He looked at the screen and stayed quiet. 

- “Ok... I think I’m gonna go now. This Scotch is already getting to my head, so… see you guys!!”- Rossi waved and tried to leave. 

- “Fuck! I hope I didn’t ruin it for the kid. Well, someone had to say it anyway”- he whispered, embarrassed.

- “Rossi, we can still hear you. You didn’t close the conversation, just minimized it”- JJ warned him, and that time, everybody burst out laughing. 

- “Ok, I’m gonna go now…”- Spencer couldn’t even look at (Y/N) anymore. He just waved and closed Zoom. 

- “I’m gonna go too”- (Y/N) whispered- “I hope everybody has a nice holiday!”- she didn’t even wait for anyone to say anything else. She just left the conversation and walked to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. 

What the hell had just happened? 

.

Spencer had a panic attack. What was he supposed to do now? Confess his feelings? Rossi had already done it for him. Should he call (Y/N) and tell her it was just a joke? Tell her the truth? Invite her over for Christmas, again? 

- “Fuck!!”- he shouted and walked to his kitchen. Some whiskey Morgan left last time he visited was still there, and though Reid wasn’t much of a drinker, he needed one. 

He honestly had no idea what to do. He knew he couldn’t face (Y/N) now. How? he would fluster just to be in the same room with her. Rossi really ruined everything. It seemed it was the end of the world. 

- “I’m gonna have to quit, move from DC, change my name, start my life from scratch…” 

Yes, Spencer was making a drama out of the whole situation. But in his defense, he had never been in that kind of situation before. 

.

It was eight pm when Spencer heard a knock on the door. He had been lying on his couch most of the afternoon, trying to read. Still, his mind kept coming back to (Y/N) and the embarrassment he felt after Rossi’s comment.

- “Hi”- (Y/N) whispered as soon as Reid opened the door, and his heart stopped- “You said I could come for Christmas… so…”- he stood still and just nodded. She was there, wearing a Dr. Who mask, with some snowflakes on her coat.  

- “Can I come in?”

- “Sure! I’m sorry, I just…”- Spencer moved from the door and watched her taking off her shoes, leaving a few paper bags on the table, and smiling at him as soon as she removed her mask. 

- “Can I wash my hands?”

- “Of course, the bathroom is…”- Reid stopped himself. She knew where the bathroom was. That wasn’t the first time she was there.    

While she washed her hand, he made his best to clean a little, folded the blanket on his couch, and piled all the books that were lying around. 

- “So… I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”- (Y/N) started apologizing again, but Spencer just shook his head. 

- “No, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you to come after… what…”- he couldn’t even mention it.

- “After what Rossi said?”- she turned around and avoided looking at Spencer. She walked to the bags she had brought and started taking things out

 - “Should we worry he was getting drunk so early?”- she simply said, and Reid chuckled

- “I don’t know, maybe… what are you doing?”

- “Well… I’m not into chicken tandoori for Christmas, so I cooked some things.”

- “It smells delicious”- Reid smiled, and so did (Y/N), feeling her cheeks blushing. 

- “It’s mom’s turkey recipe, so it better be good”

- “Let me put that in the fridge”- Reid held the turkey, roasted potatoes, and many other things (Y/N) had cooked and walked to the kitchen. 

- “I also got you this”- (Y/N) giggled and followed Spencer. As soon as he left everything he was carrying, she put a Santa hat with red and white stripes on his head.

- “You look like the cat in the hat”- she joked, and Spencer laughed, feeling like the happiest nerd on earth. 

- “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

- “It is…”- (Y/N) stared at him and sighed, both of them smiling in silence for a second. 

- “Did you get one for yourself too?”- he finally asked.

- “Yes! so we can take dorky pictures and send them to Garcia, she is gonna love those”- she made a pause and bit her lips for a second. 

- “So… do you like Christmas traditions?”- she asked and looked down at her shoes 

- “Mmm, sure… like watching Home Alone drinking hot chocolate?- Spencer asked, thinking he hadn’t really lived many Christmas traditions growing up. However, he knew his mother had made her best to make him happy each holiday. 

- “Yeah… that and… maybe this”

(Y/N) took a mistletoe from her pocket and lifted her arm to place it right on top of their heads. 

Spencer didn’t move. He just wide opened his eyes, staring at (Y/N), who was now smiling, completely blushed. 

- “Since we are spending Christmas together, I thought… we… could…”- but she couldn’t finish talking, ‘cos Spencer leaned in slowly, very slowly until he reached her lips and kissed her. His hands cupped her cheeks carefully, and her arms ended up wrapped around his neck.  

- “Merry Christmas, Spencer”- she whispered, rubbing her lips against his when the kiss ended, but neither of them wanted to move apart.

- “Merry Christmas, (Y/N)” 

.

[benedictscanvas]

sage-coloured glasses - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: This is just a barrel of soft cardigans thrown in your face, with just the smallest mention of nightmares

A/N: This is technically a 2nd part to ‘a shared heart’, but there are only vague mentions of it and this can easily be read on its own. I simply wanted some soft Spence in his natural habitat and I hope this can be of some comfort to you too, if you’re in need of it <3

---

His hair was oh-so-soft underneath your fingertips but the thought felt forbidden. You hadn’t expected him to have soft hair. It always looked soft, yes, the small, unruly strands that he regularly curled behind his ear looked like the fluffy hair of a man who felt most at home in a library and wore cardigans. But in the line of work you were in, you were used to things having hard edges and sharp corners.

Not Spencer’s hair. It delivered on its visual promise as you slowly wove your fingers through the strands and tattooed the memory of them into your skin, let it sink into your very bones. When his head had hit your lap on your flight back home with a murmured question of permission, it had been like a magnet. Your hand was in his hair before you even gave him your answer, but it was an answer in itself.

“‘Course, Spence.”

A reassurance. His only response was a grateful hum as he tucked his legs up onto the sofa and you shuffled to make as much room for him as you could. You were slightly falling off the end of the sofa, getting cramp in your toes as you put your weight into your left foot to keep yourself in place. The armrest was digging into your hip and it should have been uncomfortable.

And yet, it wasn’t. Not when you lightly scritch-scratched at his scalp and he turned further into you, the curve of his nose pressing into your knee. Comfort wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket and you could only hope he was swathed in it too.

“Sleep,” you mumbled a few moments later, “I’ll wake you when we land.”

Silence. A rustle of fabric as he brought his arm up from his side, graced your knee with a feather-light squeeze then let his hand rest against your knee, right by his nose. A relieved exhale.

Twenty minutes passed. His breaths were deep and even, bordering on a snore every once in a while. Your fingers hadn’t stilled their dance through his hair, although they had slowed down in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Your neck ached and your heart did too.

Emily crept over with some paperwork after another ten. You reached over and took it with a nod and a smile, grateful that she kept silent too as she returned to her seat next to Derek. There was a little nudging and whispering as she sat back down, Dave turning in his seat to glance back at the two of you sporting a smirk that spoke volumes. No matter, as long as Spencer’s shoulder kept digging into your thigh for the rest of eternity.

It was tricky to complete the paperwork over his head without anything to lean on except your own hand. Another worthwhile sacrifice. Cases like this one were difficult for everyone. It was the type of case that set up camp in your mind in preparation for the nightmares that it would guest star in for the weeks to come. When you relayed that analogy to Spencer a few months ago, he’d laughed. Only someone who understood the feeling could laugh like that.

“Sorry I crashed on you,” Spencer spoke up just as you were forging his signature on a document that you’d all have to sign in time. He’d done it for you before, an unspoken agreement to save each other time.

(it was similar to the unspoken agreement to care when no one else had the time to, or the silent pact to share ‘good morning’ muffins whenever they were available, or the wordless understanding that he was your person and you were his)

You glanced down at him and were surprised to see that he’d rolled to lie on his back, just to stare up at you. Your hand was, embarrassingly, still carding through his hair each time you placed your pen between your teeth to read something through and you couldn’t imagine the angle he was staring from was your most flattering. Still, his eyes sparkled under the overhead aeroplane lights, which you wouldn’t have thought possible. It was likely a matter of perspective.

“Don’t be,” you waved him away, focusing your attention back on the paper in your hand before you gave it all away. Your hand fell limp in his hair, if only because you were too stubborn to remove it. Removing it now, after all, would only be an obvious admission of something you had been failing to hide for months now, “I’ve been told I have a comfy lap.”

“By whom?”

“Cats, mostly.”

He huffed a small laugh that travelled right the way up your spine.

“Cats are intelligent,” he mused quietly, resting his hands on his stomach, one on top of the other. A grounding technique that made you blink, “You can’t be comfortable though, doing paperwork like this.”

“What can I say? I’m a generous person.”

He hummed in lieu of an answer, but you could tell he felt guilty for the position he’d put you in. If only he could see that you were practically hanging off the seat, see the ridge that the armrest was definitely imprinting into your side, then he’d really feel guilty, but of course, that was the last thing you wanted him to feel.

(of course, there was also a part of you that dreamt of apologies whispered into your skin, of fingers skimming over fabric, of delicate kisses pressed to your hip-bone. of a guilt that melts away with each murmured confession of adoration. of a blissful atonement for a sin you’d already forgiven)

“Honestly, Spence, you’re fine. I would’ve moved you if I was uncomfortable.”

And you would have moved by now if you really felt that bad, you thought to yourself, relishing in the fact that he hadn’t moved yet, that you could still feel his gaze on your chin as you pretended to skim over the words on the page, once, twice, once again.

“You want me to take over paperwork duty?”

“I told you to sleep,” you said instead, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I did sleep, for at least 30 minutes, which we both know is good for my standards.”

His rebuttal was punctuated by his hands both reaching up, making grabbing motions towards the stack of papers you were pouring through. Knowing how much faster he would be at getting through whatever was left, you heaved the pile into his hands with a sigh and watched as he held them up in front of his face and began reading, blocking your view of him entirely. It was impossible not to feel cheated.

When he reached a section he had to write in, he held his hand up for a pen. You gave him one from your jacket pocket rather than the one that had been in your mouth, knowing that he would be grateful if he knew. When he’d finished scribbling, you’d take the pen back from him, lean your head against the headrest until the cycle repeated. Occasionally he shuffled his head in your lap and your hand would slide a little further into his hair, but nothing was said. You took it as a cue to stay right where you were.

As expected, he finished the paperwork far sooner than you would have done. When he reached behind his head to put it on the table next to you, you took it from him before he could pull a muscle in his shoulder and he muttered his thanks. Now you could see him again, it was difficult to fight off a smile. Maybe the paperwork in the way had been more beneficial than you thought.

Briefly, you wondered how many of your signatures he’d forged in the documents he’d gone through, wondered how much better he was at forgery than you, but you didn’t check the paperwork in case he thought you were checking his work was up to par.

“You just saved me an hour’s work,” you sighed happily, “My angel once again.”

It was a nickname that had stuck around. From the time he’d shared his muffin around a month ago, you couldn’t shake the sentiment off. Not only had you grown closer - bolder - in that time, you’d also adjusted your language accordingly. Angel made a regular appearance, if only to bring the dusty pink to his cheeks that you treasured.

“It’s nothing, you know that,” he insisted, that very same pink blooming up his neck as you basked in the glow, “Besides, you’d done half already.”

He was being ridiculously kind, because you’d be surprised if you’d made it a third of the way through. There was no use arguing it, because compliments were far from Spencer’s strong suit and you’d already got the upper hand using the word angel. Better to agree to disagree.

“Thank you anyway,” you decided would be a good compromise, and from the smile on his face as he stared up at you, it seemed he agreed. It was funny that agreeing to disagree with Spencer mostly just felt like being on the same book, same page, same line. Unfortunately, you couldn’t quite tell exactly which word he’d gotten to, because if you did, you might have kissed him a long time ago.

(and goodness had you thought about it enough times)

When he abruptly sat up from his place in your lap, you suppressed your whine of disapproval as best you could, but there was still a small noise of disappointment that you couldn’t contain. He smiled at the sound, face the right way up now with lines and grooves in all the right places, around his eyes, his mouth, his cheeks. Smile lines are notoriously pretty on people whose smiles are the highlight of your very existence.

“I’m not as comfy as you thought, hm?” you teased, mainly to prevent him from seeing any of the hurt shining in your eyes. He saw it anyway.

“Nope,” he said easily, already sliding all the way over to the other side of the sofa, each inch of distance deepening your frown, “Now I, on the other hand, have it on far better authority that I provide a comfortable lap experience.”

“And whose authority would that be?”

“Henry, of course, and I know you trust his judgement above all others. Come on.”

He actually patted his lap and the swooping of your chest was enough to make you slightly lightheaded.

“Are you sure?”

He gave you a withering look that gave you no choice but to scoot over towards him. Lying down, you mirrored his previous position as your head came to tentatively rest in the little dip between his thighs, as near to his knees as you could get without becoming uncomfortable. He was unspeakably warm and it seeped into your very soul.

“Better?”

“You’re not that comfy.”

A lie. Blatant to both parties as you snuggled into him a little more, allowing his leg to take the weight of your neck. Before you knew it, his hand was resting in your hair too and even though you knew it wasn’t as soft as his, you hoped it was enough. It didn’t move, save for the sporadic slow sweep of his thumb through the strands, but it didn’t matter. He was always more than enough, after all.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you when we land.”

His words were an exact repeat of your own. There was no chance of a long sleep, not with your nerve endings flaring at each and every point of contact between the two of you, but there was also no use arguing. Rest, in place of sleep, was better than nothing. You smiled up at him one last time before closing your eyes, drifting into a half-slumber that consisted mostly of vague musings about the individual notes of his cologne.

Occasionally, when you simply couldn’t help yourself, you’d open one eye, maybe even two, and peek up at him. He looked ethereal, even from this angle. It was likely a matter of perspective.

(it just so happened that spencer thought you looked positively celestial from all twenty seven of the angles he had painstakingly catalogued into his memory. that was likely a matter of perspective too)

---

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! i’m not currently tagging people, since i was away for a while and i don’t want to tag people who are no longer interested - if you would like to be tagged in my fics from now on, send in an ask and i can add you to a main taglist or a character-specific one <3

[whump-town]

You Worry Me

Pairings: Emily & Hotch

Summary: college au things, Hotch checking himself into a mental hospital for the weekend

Warnings: child abuse, mental health struggles, abuse, suicide attempt, drugs, alcohol

When Emily asked him if he wanted to get an apartment with her she had expected far more hesitation than what she was met with. It’s not that she doesn't have other people to ask but when she really has to think about it he’s the only person she wants around like that. She’s content with his silence and his strange but enrapturing bouts of… oddness. She’s already thrown up in front of him (bad stomach flu she refused to admit was as bad as it was) and stood guard so he could pee behind a dumpster when they’d walked to the store at midnight for cigarettes and energy drinks.

She finds the courage to ask him on the front lawn of campus, stretched out on their backs ignoring their work and just photosynthesizing. Closing their eyes in silent enjoyment as spring tries to peek through winter's tight grip. When she turns to look at him the words just come tumbling out and she waits for his reaction. She’s not sure why she’s expecting anything other than that predictable crooked smirk but it still shocks her. He turns his head, lifting his arm to shield his eyes as he does so. Mostly, he just wants to know where he came in the line-up. How many people told her no before she came to him?

The honest answer is none but she smirks and tells him four and he laughs that deep goofy laugh that he does and she doesn’t know why she was nervous he’d say no. With a tired sigh, he nods and that’s all it takes-- they’re sharing an apartment.

He carries her clothes up to their floor, leaves her the pillows and her comforter for her to drag up. He’s exhausted by the time he’s got her things sitting on her bedroom floor but goes down to the beaten old pick-up truck his mother let him borrow to get his own things. Informs her with one of those long crooked fingers to worry with her own things and leave him to get his own. She resigns herself to listening but only because she’d seen his load and knew her help wouldn’t really quicken the whole six, small, boxes he has.

On his third trip she’s had enough and with a dramatic sigh she shakes her head and stands right in the doorway to his room. “No,” she says, crossing her arms. “No, I refuse to believe this. There’s no way you’ve read all these books.” She’s watched him carry three boxes of books into this apartment and not just boxes with things like thrown in he’s got them stacked to take up as little room as possible in these boxes. They’re heavy, he’s sweating and they keep coming.

With a sigh he leans down and sets the box currently in his arms down on the floor. “I read,” is his very complex answer. Aaron Hotchner has a way with words and she’s come to know that well. He shrugs, pushing at the hair slicked with sweat against his scalp. “I have read them… all of them.” Most of them more than once.

Books are the only thing he’s ever had. When he’d packed up for college all of the room had been taken up by these books. His clothes fit into one box but the books, he made room for the books. Every year, for as long as he can remember, his mother would buy him a book for his birthday. He got a job in town to have money to buy books to try and stifle his insatiable hunger (and his up-and-coming smoking habit).

She looks down at the box he’s just placed down, sighing when she sees that atop a pair of jeans there’s another book. Sherlock Holmes, she recognizes easily, and she shakes her head. “You know,” she steps out of his way and he heaves the box back up with a grunt. “My mother asked if I thought you’d kill me.” He falters mid-step but doesn’t stop. Carries the box to the others and sits it down heavily. He turns and finds her watching him with that quizzical, intuitive frown of hers. “You’re big but I think I could take you.”

He huffs at that, shaking his head and sliding past her so he can get his other boxes. She has no worries about him hurting her and strangely she hadn’t even considered that he might hurt her until her mother had mentioned it. Besides, she knows just enough to never truly worry. He’s the boy who vomits when he gets angry - if he shouts he’ll end up curled around the toilet shaking with a fever. He’d never hit a soul and if he did, she can only imagine the penance his body would conjure up as punishment.

But he huffs and she hears it.

She jumps on his back as he’s setting his box down on the ground. He moves just a little, stumbling under their combined weight. “Emily,” he warns, doing his best to not react. He knows how she is. She wants him to get rough, to hook his arm under her leg and yank her around. If he acts unbothered she’ll leave him alone. She’s far too much like having a little sibling around again - a sobering and, yet, comforting notion.

She does get bored and quickly. “I’m gonna go see Eric,” she informs him, slipping down off his back. He grunts and it’s just the wrong sound and she falters for a moment. Aaron’s met Eric and she’d thought they got along well but… she’s started to second guess that a little more every time she mentions either to the other. “I’ll be back this afternoon,” she adds apprehensively. Catches on to move the conversation on and away from the subject of her boyfriend but she still finds herself hovering by his doorway. Chewing her lip and anxiously asking, “do you mind if I bring Eric Wednesday?”

He just looks down at the box he’s sorting through, back turned to her. He shakes his head, sighing, “I don’t care what you do Emily.” He does care, deeply, but he looks back at her for only a brief moment. Sad brown eyes begging with her to not push, to not make him talk about this more.

With a nod, the conversation is over.

Wednesday night he smokes the pot that Derek passes to him without a second thought. It’s been burned down to the last few puffs, the heat from the lit end burns his fingers tips but he still puts it to his lips. Pulls from what little remains of the blunt as if it’s oxygen itself, a mask over his face meant to level him out. Maybe it will. The heat sinks down into his lungs and he ends up doubled over, spit drooling over his lips. Laughter bubbles up around him and a hand rubs at his back, Emily, he knows but only by the way that her perfume stings his nose he tries to breathe through the assault.

“Give it here before it burns out--”

Emily takes the blunt from his fingers and passes it to Eric. He’s an asshole and they all hate him but they love Emily and if they want her around then they have to deal with him. It’s safer to have him here, where they can watch him. He won’t dare hurt her in front of them -- but is that not what he’s doing when he leaves bruises across her face like constellations? Sends her back to them so that they can dab makeup over the Milky Way and breathe reassurances over Orian’s Belt when she falls into a hug.

Emily pulls him back upright, guides his head to lilt to the side as he sags against her. He can feel Eric’s fingers near his collar, the possessive hand he keeps on Emily at all times. A silent reminder of the power he holds over them all. Emily kisses his temple, oblivious to the mental war happening on both sides of her.

Derek reaches over and smacks his thigh, and encouraging little maneuver he means to comfort Aaron with. Aaron has checked out, arms too heavy to push away from all the touching. Can’t worm out of Emily’s arms or Derek’s comforting hand on his leg. He feels nothing past the tip of his nose. Not Emily’s bones underneath his cheek, her body carved down by Eric’s harmful comments about her weight and the coke he supplies like it’s a love language. Not Derek’s hold on him, the fear he can’t express but feels deep within his churning stomach, that Aaron’s slipping away and they’re all just bystanders to his eventual suicide.

Thursday night he’s woken up by Emily sneaking into his room, the soft click of a glass of water being sat down on his nightstand and the clatter of pills finding their way beside it. She presses her fist into his sternum, applying pressure where he feels like he’s coming unraveled. It’s like her hands are grasping his strayed ends, holding him together like a shredded kite until she can pull the fabric halves back together. “Okay,” she breathes, failing to provide him with steeled calm. His heart is beating so hard against her hand she’s afraid to let go. Her understanding of medicine is narrowed to just knowing you’re not supposed to put a bandaid on a burn. Kids can still have heart attacks, maybe not the over-worked, a little heavy-set dad kind caused by blocked arteries but he’s got the stress level and something certainly isn’t right.

He wakes up alone, doesn’t remember when she left or if she came at all. His only clue is those pills sitting in the perspiration of the now lukewarm water on his nightstand. He can’t move just yet, force his hand out to obtain the pills but he’ll wake up again in a pain-filled haze moved only by such intense pain that he fears sitting still another moment will rip him in half. The pills are slimy as they sit on his tongue and leave their bitter medicine laced into the gulp of water he manages. He’ll turn back over onto his side, pull his knees to his chest, and hope he doesn’t throw them back up.

He writes an essay in the haze of the Rizatriptan six hours later. His brain is only half-working, thoughts jumbled together or not there at all. The migraine lingers, fingers made of cotton muffling the world in a spirling nothing. It’s a similar feeling to being high, the haze is just too much but he has to write this paper because his professor won’t give him another extension -- he would if he knew Aaron needed one but he’s already asked once so he won’t do it again.

Friday the panic sets in.

Everyone is watching him.

Nobody likes him.

Why is he here?

Starfished out on a picnic blanket, Emily is spending her Friday out of the apartment. Armed with a water bottle filled with Vodka, a quilt, and a cooler full of popsicles they stumble their way through the unplowed field behind campus. Spencer hates the bugs and he holds tightly to Emily’s belt, making sure to step where she does as they trample through the too-high grass. Like broken dolls, they fall onto the quilt, familiar with one another enough not to care how they land in the tangle of limbs.

“Emily?”

She hums, not opening her eyes. The sun will remain stubbornly risen for a few more minutes and until it sets she’s trying to soak in every second of its warmth. Until it falls behind the trees and they’re bathed in the moonlight.

“Do you want a drink?”

She opens her hand, holding it up in the general direction of Derek’s voice. The water bottle finds her palm, slightly warm from sitting in the sun and in their laps as it makes its rounds. It feels oddly light but she doesn’t comment. The vodka stings down her throat but it’s familiar and it’s nearly as warm as the sun itself falling down her body.

“Where’s Hotch?”

She passes it to Penelope before laying back down, closing her eyes. “His psychiatrist put him on -” suddenly she can’t remember what it’s called. “Clom-something --”

Spencer looks up, understands this is a place for him to jump in. He feels overwhelmed with his excitement as he helpfully adds, “clomipramine! It’s a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, SSRI is the short-hand. It increases levels of serotonin in the brain.” He shifts himself, turning closer to them and away from where he’d been watching the blanket's edge for potential bugs trying to crawl near him. “It has the same side-effects as most SSRIs: drowsiness, intestinal upsets, decreased libido, changes in appetite--”

“Woah!” Derek sits up, suddenly paying attention. His eyebrows are scrunched together, alarmed. “He can’t… He won’t be able to like get it up?” He looks at Spencer and then at Emily. “That’s what libido means, man. How’s not being able to have sex going to help him not get all… gummed in the gears? Stuck in his head?” Aaron’s having a hard enough time, it hardly feels like ruining his sex life is the solution to that.

Spencer shakes his head, trying to understand how they’ve moved from facts about antidepressants to Hotch’s sex drive. “What?” If he took a second to think about it, he’d be blushing too hard to even bother with that statement. “No, the brain--”

“Spence,” Emily warns softly. Hotch might not be here to stop them from talking about his sex life but she is and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Besides, it’s none of their business. They’ve seen how bad things can get. “Hotch is basically a nun,” she reminds them. And it’s true. Before anyone diagnosed him, before he even knew something was wrong he wasn’t nearly as adventurous as her or Derek. “He didn’t come today because despite the--” she motions at Spencer.

“The clomipramine,” he supplies.

“Yes, the that, it doesn't work. He has a new psychiatrist, though, and he wants to run through some old stuff again.” She shakes her head, “a stronger dosage and a better plan. I don’t know, I guess we’ll know in another month. He’ll either end up in the hospital again or he’ll be fine.” She shrugs, “right now he’s locked himself in his room.”

There’s a low murmur of understanding and Spencer’s eyes go back to the edge of the blanket. They all remember what happened the last time he had to change medications. Emily had called JJ, the dead of the night making their intensely private and scary conversation seeping with the darkness’s own mixed intensities. Aaron had taken some bad drugs from a guy he didn’t even know, stumbled home, and passed out in his and Emily’s apartment bathroom. Where she found him seizing, choking on his vomit.

They didn’t and couldn’t see him for seventy-two hours, the mandatory hold from the hospital because they ruled it an attempted suicide and Aaron didn’t even try to put up a fight and say it was something else.

Friday night when she stumbles home he isn’t there.

His room is empty -- bedsheets are thrown back as if he left in a rush and his desk lamp still on. She feels that fear sink back into her, throat tight and mind racing, but the bathroom door is open, his pills still meticulously organized in the cabinet over the sink. Even his toothbrush is in the dish. So wherever he is, he won’t be gone long. She stills warns the others, asks them to look out for him or to, at the very least, expect his imminent arrival.

Derek offers to drive around and look for him.

Emily lets him do it, give him something to do -- he would have done it even if she told him it was unnecessary. She’s fairly certain she knows where he is.

Sure enough, she gets the call Monday morning at 7:30.

He does this every once in a while. As often as he can without them enforcing a longer hold, without it going on some sort of record that might prohibit getting a job. She doesn’t really understand why. He hates the mental hospital. Complains that it’s freezing cold and he hates the entire function and yet, here she is spending her Monday morning picking him up. This makes only about the fourth time since she’s known him but how many times has he just made the decision to walk? How many times hasn’t he called her to pick him up?

“You have got to stop walking here.” She rolls the window down first, shouting out at him as she pulls to a stop. He looks better than he had Friday morning when she invited him out to the field with the rest of them. She’d barely managed to get him to sit up, feeding pills between his pale lips, and then pulling his blanket back up over his shoulders. Shutting the blinds and leaving him a glass of water. Maybe she should have just offered to take him then, she’d known with hindsight this is where he would be.

He opens the backdoor without saying a word, crawls into the backseat, and curls up across the seats. He’s wearing a sweatshirt they must have given him, shoes not even on just held by the tips of his curled fingers. They land with a thud on the floor and all the response she gets is a pair of grippy socks landing on her passenger seat, the wordless thanks for picking him up… again.

“Class or home?” she asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Class.”

She did bring his bookbag with her, it’s sitting on the floor beside her own, but she will not be taking him to class. He recognizes that when she pulls out of the exit when she turns left instead of right. He grunts but doesn’t say anything, opting to curl further into himself. Protecting his head from an unseen threat.

The rest is practice. He’s foggy from the medicine they give him, always something different from what he’s taken. It’s meant to bring him down, strengthen his haze, and keep him calm. To shut his mind up -- and it’s good, it really does work. It just makes him so exhausted.

“Get your big butt--” Emily has to help him get into his bed and just as he’s about to apologize -- mouth hung open and his eyes squinting as he tries to force sluggish thoughts through a brain that hasn’t worked in days -- she climbs up after him.

His head hits the pillow and his mind goes blank, can’t even form the “I’m sorry” trying to trip its way out of his mouth.

Within seconds she’s laying down beside him, wiggling down under the covers and pulling them up over them. “Derek was pretty pissed you left again without telling us,” she whispers. It takes her a moment but she leans back up and pulls the blinds down, shuts the light from outside from coming in. Then she’s right back beside him, head on his chest. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Aaron. It’s-- It’s--” cruel.

Breathlessly he whispers, “sorry.” It’s all he can manage, drugs still heavy in his bloodstream and eyes forced shut, to move his hand to her back. To try and convey more than what he’s capable of with words that he didn’t mean to scare her. He just scared himself.

She turns her face into his sweatshirt and lets out a little sob, holding onto him. “I think I’m going to break up with Eric.” She’d come up with a thousand reasons Aaron would have disappeared, even as logic dictated where she knew he was. Her fear covered everything until she was sat wondering if she was making things worse for Aaron. His anxiety and migraines and everything else. Was she adding to his stresses or helping?

Coming home and having to ask him to relive parts of his childhood for her… Having him dab foundation over her bruises with his tremoring hands knowing he was thinking about his mother. That he was thinking about doing this exact exercise on himself, covering bruises his father left across his own face. Dabbing blood away and whispering empty, useless promises.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His mother had offered him that same lie a thousand times. She’d drawn lines in the sand and washed them away the next morning with the reconstruction of a wave -- thin cold fingers touching a bruise and asking what happened. As if she hadn’t watched. As if she hadn’t picked him up off the floor and hidden him away in his room, draping her body over his.

“I mean it,” she whispers, her tone mixed with conviction she doesn’t have.

“I know.” He’ll pretend to not remember this conversation when she goes bar crawling with Eric Thursday night. He’ll avoid the other’s eyes when they look at him for some sort of explanation, why she’s taken by her promise this time. But for now, he’s tired and he’s warm and he feels safe. He’ll call Spencer and Penelope later and apologize for blowing off the plans they had to watch Doctor Who, act like they all don’t know where he’s been.

“I love you.”

He squeezes her hips, gives in to his exhaustion. “I love you too.”

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers (March 3rd, 2021)

Here’s our latest batch of anon ask answers! Thanks for waiting for them.

Will there be a 'Our Life' game for each season? Please say we're getting a winter one! 

As of right now we’re only planning on making two, summer and fall. They take quite a while to finish and we’re not sure where we’ll be when the second OL is truly wrapped up. But it’s not impossible we can do a third. Though, four Our Life games is probably not super likely, honestly, aha. Maybe the third game, if we make one, could be switch between winter and spring or something.

What engine/engines do you use to make your games? 

We use Renpy for all our projects!

For version 1.2 of OL, did you make any changes to the DLC? If so, could you post a changelog detailing what exactly (or at least a general overview)? If it's not too much trouble, could you also elaborate on the bugs/errors you fixed in the base game? 

There aren’t really any changes to the DLCs, except for the voiced name DLC getting an expansion. We fixed very few small typos and added a couple extra lines. Unfortunately, we don’t have a list of exactly what all the little fixes were.

I've been playing OL and I love the characters! As soon as Baxter showed up, I knew I wanted to learn more about him! Would you consider adding him as a prospective LI in the future? 

Yep, Baxter (and Derek) will be getting his own romance story as an optional DLC late in 2021! Glad you like him.

Hellooo! First off I'm a huge fan of the game and can't stop playing it. However, I was wondering about how much domestic life with Cove we'll get to see in step 4. Meaning the time before the wedding and the time after. In my game Cove and I talked about having children and I was hoping that would be an option in step 4. Either way, I cannot wait for the release and I send my best to everyone working on the production :) thanks! 

I’m sorry, there’s no children or scenes after the two are married. There’s sort of endless possibilities for what that future could be like, so we unfortunately can’t depict it. You only get scenes before they’re married and, if you get the wedding DLC, you can see the day they get married. It ends there, though. But thank you for the well-wishes!

Hello! I was just wondering, so step 4 is going to be similiar to the prologue/epilogue scenes of the game. Is the Wedding DLC going to be one long scene too or will that have moments? (I love the game by the way, its ruined all other visual novels for me in the most wonderful way <3 ) 

Yeah, Step 4 and the wedding DLC will be like the prologues/summer ended parts of the game. There won’t be separate Moments you can play in any order. I’m really happy you like the game so much!

You said that the OL MC's birthday can't be in summer, but what if you headcanoned it to be? 

You can headcanon it as being in summer! There just aren’t birthday events in the game even if you do know your MC was born in summer. We had to leave those out, since some people might not want their MC to be born in summer and then they’d miss out on extra birthday scenes because of it. It wouldn’t have been fair.

Hello!😺 I absolutely love your game!😻 I can't wait for DLS with Derek and Baxter. And I wonder if Baxter could have seen Cove and MC at the party during their first failed dance? Or is Baxter only paying attention to who he's dancing with, or is he not dancing with anyone at the soiree at all then? 

Baxter isn’t really paying attention to the couples on the floor. He’s just cruising the outskirts for someone available to dance with him. So he doesn’t get any memories of the MC or Cove at that party if the two just dance with each other. It’s great to hear you like the game!

time-wise/step-wise when does the nsfw dlc take place? 

It’s not super strict in terms of an exact of weeks/months, but generally it’s sometime not long after the end of Step 3.

Heya! I'm currently obsessed with Our Life (I played through the entire game on Valentine's Day, hahaha– ha... hah), and I have one silly question: if I start playing Step 3 with the less... "romantically inclined" interest levels (Fond & Disinterest), is there still a chance of getting a romantic ending with Cove? Can Cove and the MC realize "they're the one for me" in just one summer? Or... are confessions off the table completely unless at least at Crush level? Thank you in advance! 

So happy you’re having fun with it! In OL1 deciding that Cove is your friend means he’s truly only a friend. You can’t decide you have a crush partway through. But we are considering doing things differently in future games.

hey i have some questions about our life

a) is there a way to be friends with that mean bowlcut kid or is he always... like tha

b. what is coves ethnicity?

A. He is always like that, haha. At least as a kid, he does grow up to be different~

B. Cove’s mom Kyra is white, but Cliff’s race doesn’t come up and players are able to headcanon it. So Cove is half white and half whatever you prefer Cliff to be. 

how do you get to the two mc cut-in scenes from the new update?

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Hiii! I'm doing another playthrough (it's only like my 100th time playing through the entire game) after the 1.2 update, and I was wondering how to get the new art? I also really love all the new stuff, thank you for working so hard and creating such a wonderful game :)

You can check our our CG guide on Steam for that! Thank you for the kind words.

Sorry to bother you, but I have a question about the Patreon moment. Will there be initiative settings there too? And if there aren't, will the MC lead the whole thing or will Cove lead at certain points too? Thank you~ 

There will still be flexibly in what you’re comfortable with and whether you want Cove to automatically do things or for choices to always be involved :]. And you don’t need to apologize!

Hello!! I wanted to ask a couple of questions about Our Life:

1. Will we able to buy all the DLC via Steam or will there be some of them only available in Patreon? Just to know if I should create a Patreon user XD

2. Will Our Life: Now and Forever be about the current MC, Cove and the other characters or will it be a game with a New MC, new romantic options and new characters?

1. There will be a Patreon-only NSFW bonus Moment. But all the normal planned DLCs will release on Steam.

2. Our Life: Now & Forever is about new characters- new MC, new family, new LI, etc.

just some small bug I noticed: even if you didn't ask Cove to dance, if he asks you at the Soiree in Step 2 later and you say yes to dancing, the MC acts like they got to dance with Cove again even if it was the first time. 

Thank you for the report on that! We thought it was fixed, but I guess it didn’t work.

I was messing around with the new update and I noticed that all the hands in the firefly CGs have the same skin tone regardless of what you put in, (with the exception of the really dark skin color) is this a glitch or something? 

The skin tones aren’t the same. It’s just because they’re out at night with only fireflies for light that it makes each image look dark and therefore similar. But if you line them up together it’s clear how there are changes in every option.

How long did it take to plan out and write the story for OL? Not including the programming, art stuff, or the DLC chapters, I mean just planning and writing the base game story alone. The base game story seems hefty as is, and then on top of that there's the changes to scenes depending on MC's and Cove's personalities and relationship, I'm curious how long that took 

It took basically the full development time, aha. I’m someone who doesn’t fully outline a project before start and instead continues to come up with stuff as a project progresses. There were new parts to the story being created right up to near the launch. So, starting in 2016 or so to later 2020, with some breaks/hold-ups throughout that time.

Hello! I'm really, really enjoying Our Life: Beginning and Always, it was the kind of sweet, wholesome content I needed during these past months. I had a quick question, will you be making any female characters for the MC to romance? In this game or any others like it? I'm a lesbian and I'd love to have a female love interest with such well written romance as yours! Thank you so much. 

Thank you for the nice comment! Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t have a female LI since we didn’t want to treat other gender options as second fiddle to the male lead. But we have just started full production on Our Life: Now & Forever, which will have a starring female LI! There’s a silhouette glimpse of her Step 1 self here~

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