#if there’s one thing i want more than anything it’s to see the Fort Spencer crew being maladjusted freaks without the threat of

[starbuck]

I just saw a super old post of yours talking about Ravenous and omg what a film! one of these days I’m going to write an extremely in-depth analytical paper about it — there’s just so much to talk about. you don’t happen to still have access to those deleted scenes do you? bc I would love to see them

it’s sooooooooo good! feel free to chat with me about it whenever - i love to talk about it and hear others’ thoughts!

the deleted scenes can be found here! the editing of the final film is very tight, atmospheric, and dreamy in a way that the inclusion of any of these scenes would have stepped on, so i am ultimately glad they were cut, but i’m also so glad to have access to them and believe that they are mandatory viewing for fans of the film who want to engage deeply with it.

[melissacameron4]

the one with the jenna thing part 2

warnings: warnings: (some but not limited to) death, implied death, sex, lying, swearing, angst, smut

"Dad, I'm telling you, she slept with that detective!" I informed my father.

"Well, even if she did, she did it to save Hanna's ass. And let me tell you something, if you ever do anything illegal, I will kick your ass so hard, especially if you don't tell me." I thought of The Jenna Thing. Should I tell my dad the truth? Just then, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, looking at who it was from.

"Thinking about telling Daddy about Jenna? Might want to

consider all the other beans you'd have to spill... starting

with this one." The picture attached, was a picture of Noel

and me hooking up in his car.

- A

Crap.

"Hello?" My dad called me. "Anybody home in there?" I snapped out of my gazed and looked 

to him. I quickly put my phone away.

"Yeah, yeah. What were you saying Dad?"

"Who was that?" Crap.

"Just, just Spencer." I said quickly.

"Spencer? I thought you guys weren't friends anymore?" Dad asked, confused.

"We... We started talking again." I said absentmindedly like it was nothing.

"Okay." He said, suspicious of my behavior.

We turned to the morning news, where Detective Wilden was making a statement to the press. "The coroner did release his findings this morning, and although Alison Di Laurentis' body did show signs of a blunt-force head trauma, the cause of her death was suffocation." Dad shut the TV off.

"Enough of that. Is Noel picking you up today?" Dad questioned.

"No," I said absently. "He's got practice so Hanna is."

"Then why is she picking you up?" Dad asked, confused. "Lily! For God's sake put your phone away!"

"What?" I asked him, startled, looking up from my phone.

"Put the phone away and have a conversation with me."

"Okay."

"Well?" He asked, waiting for me to respond.

"Well, what?" I asked him, confused.

"Why is Hanna picking you up?"

"Oh, because Hanna doesn't do sports and Noel has early morning practice. Noel is bringing me home after school. That, and we have a biology test tomorrow, and I don't know anything that's going on in that class."

"I presume that's one of the five classes you have with Noel?"

"Yep, and while science is not his forte, he definitely knows more than me. And enough to help me."

"Okay," Dad nodded. "I work late tonight, so I'm going to see if Hanna and Ashley can come over."

"What?" I demanded. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you two home alone together." Dad said plainly.

"Dad!"

"What?"

"I thought we got over this."

"We did. Until I found out you were having sex."

"Dad!"

"Well, you are."

"I'm going to kill Hanna."

"I'm getting you birth control, one of us can pick it up tomorrow at the pharmacy. But until then, I don't trust you two alone."

"Oh my God, Dad."

"When you decided to have unprotected sex you lost my trust."

My phone buzzed.

I'm here

- Han

"Hanna's here." I snapped at my dad. "I'm leaving."

"I know that you're mad at me," Dad started to say.

"That's a freaking understatement."

"But I'm doing this because I love you."

"Ya know, maybe you should talk to Mrs. Marin again, and this time you can tell her that you took away my life." I slammed the door behind me and all but ran to Emily's car.

"You're being dramatic!" He yelled out the open window.

"Where do you think I get it from?" I yelled  straight back at him.

"What's got you in a mood?" She asked as I got in, giving me her concerned look.

"You're mother."

"What?" She said, puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just drive, before my dad takes any more of my life away."

After we got to school, I beelined straight to Noel, who was at my locker.

"We're going to study tonight, right?" He asked, hugging me.

"I'm going to try. Dad said we aren't allowed to be alone together." I sighed, still completely annoyed with the situation.

"Why? I thought we got past that months ago?"

"We did." I deadpanned. "But Hanna saw me ditch the other day and long story short, her mom told my dad and now my dad won't let us be alone together."

"That's," He started to say but I cut him off.

"Don't say it. Okay? Just, don't." I rubbed my forehead. "Let me talk to Hanna. Maybe we can do a study night at Sean's and we can slip away for a while, okay?"

Noel slid his hands into my back jeans pockets, thumbs close to my back. "If not, we can always skip health class again," He whispered in my ear. "Or history. Or even a whole day." between each sentence, he kissed me. When he finished, my hands were at the nape of his neck and I was breathless. I pulled him close to me and just as we started to kiss, the intercom interrupted us.

"Will the following students please come to the office : Emily Fields, Lily Grey, Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin." I groaned and pulled away from my boyfriend.

"Talk to Sean please." I begged him. 

He nodded at me. "Promise."

"Okay, good!" I kissed him again, before Spencer grabbed my hand and dragged me away from Noel.

As we caught up with the other three, Aria's phone went off. "Wait, it's from - A."

Hanna looked over Aria's shoulder and read the text aloud. "Dead girls walking."

Once we were all in the office, we were interrogated by Detective Wilden, who was easily becoming my least favorite human being.

"So let's see..." He said, looking at the file before pointing at Spencer. "You thought you heard her scream?" 

"I - I said that, yeah." 

"And when you four woke up in the barn, Alison was gone, and so was Spencer?" He asked the rest of us. I wiggled in my spot. I hated this. I squeezed closer to Hanna and Spencer.

"Yes, I woke up before them." Spencer saved us from having to talk. "And I realized that Ali was missing, so..." She trailed off.

"So you went looking for her." He filled in the blanks.

"That's what happened." Spencer said with a fake smile.

"I got that. So," He said, looking at us. "Was this a slumber party, or...?" I did not like this man. How on earth did he become a cop, much less a detective?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Spencer asked him.

"It feels like an interrogation," I mumbled to the girls.

"No, just a routine follow up. Why did you guys fall asleep?" He asked another question, making this really feel like an interrogation.

"I guess we were tired," Aria told him.

"Tired? Really." He didn't believe us. "Is that how you remember it? Hanna? Lily?"

"Yeah," We said in sync, quietly.

"Yeah, you guys were tired." He said in that same condescending tone as before, like we were lying about that night. But little did he know, we didn't lie about that night, just a different night. 

"Look," Spencer said, trying her best to sound like her mom. In her defense, her mom was a lawyer. "We've told you everything we know, just like the night she went missing."

"I know, and you see, the thing is, it's almost exactly what you said last year -- almost like it was rehearsed." This man was getting on my every last nerve.

"Like Spencer said, we've told you everything we know." Aria added.

In the cafeteria, we were all together again. "He knows we're lying." Aria stated the obvious.

"No shit, Aria. You should be a detective." I snapped at her.

"Lying is not a crime." Hanna said.

"It is when you're giving false statements to the police. It's called obstruction of justice."

"And it is a crime." I added as an afterthought to Spencer's statement.

"Oh please!" Hanna snapped. "We lied about drinking. But the truth that matters is we don't know anything about what happened to Ali that night." She, like me, was losing her temper. It was never good when the two of us lost our tempers about the same thing.

"We also know about someone who might have wanted to hurt her." Spencer told us.

"We should have told the police the truth about Jenna's accident the night it happened." Emily scolded, as if none of us had wanted to tell the police.

"We wanted to," Hanna explained, pointing between the two of us. "Remember?" I nodded in agreement. We did want to tell the police when it had happened, but Ali had talked us out of it.

"We had a chance to do more than just tell the truth. We had a chance to stop Ali." Aria revealed, as if we actually had a chance to stop Alison from doing anything she wanted to do.

"But we didn't." Spencer interrupted my thought. "And telling the police now about what happened to Jenna isn't going to make her see again. It'll just ruin our lives."

"Will it? If Jenna knows that we weren't involved and that we genuinely feel bad about what happened to her, it might make her less angry about the situation." I explained my thought process.

All of a sudden, we heard a cane tapping on the floor. Jenna. Aria stood up and walked over to Jenna. 

"Jenna?" Aria asked her. "It's - it's Aria. Do you.." She tried to find her words. "Want to come sit with us?" I glanced across the table to Hanna with a WTF look.

"Sure."

"So you're gonna be between Hanna and Emily. Spencer and Lily are right across from you."

"Thank you." Jenna told her. "So... This would be Alison's chair, right?" She sat down and Spencer nudged me.

I cleared my throat. "No," Emily said. "We're not even sitting at that table."

"We don't sit there anymore." I commented.

"You know, she came to visit me in the hospital after the accident." I looked down at my lunch. I knew that. Alison told me after the fact that she went to see Jenna. That was another reason why I thought that Alison didn't care why Jenna was in that garage that night.

"Alison did?" Spencer asked, confused. I glanced at Spencer before looking down again. Hanna kicked my foot from under the table. I looked up at her and gave a small smile.

"Mm-hm," She hummed. "Everyone misunderstood Alison, but I knew exactly who she was." That was weird. Why would she say something like that to Alison's best friends? Nobody would know her better than us.

Spencer changed the topic away from Alison and back to Jenna. "When did you get back Jenna? We heard that you were in Philadelphia, a school for the... visually impaired."

"You can say blind Spencer." She laughed a little. "It's not a dirty word." Que the awkward silence. I locked eyes with Emily and she bit her lip. "Wow. It's so quiet. You guys used to be the fun table. What happened to you girls?" 

flashback

We were in Emily's bedroom, clothes were everywhere. We were having a fashion show. We were giggling, having fun. Not a care in the world.

"I see you!" Alison yelled, making us all stop. "Oh my God, I can't believe it." She raked the curtain close to her bedroom.

"Who was it Ali?" Emily asked her. "What did you see?"

"He was in that tree, spying on us! I'm so creeped out!"

"Who was it?" Spencer prodded her to tell us the name.

"It was that perv, Toby Cavanaugh."

"Are you sure?" Aria asked, wanting to confirm who it was before we did anything.

"Yeah, Alison. Are you sure it wasn't just a shadow from the tree?" I asked. I really didn't want to ruin anybody's life, if she didn't know who it was.

"Yes, I'm sure!" She said getting angry. "He was right there! I bet he saw all of us naked." Okay, ew. I didn't want anybody to see me naked.

"Should we tell someone?" Aria asked. We were all wondering what we should do next.

"I mean, we could. But I have a better idea." She smirked, devising a plan.

Fireworks were blasting. Everybody was having fun. Nobody noticed the six girls sneaking around, planning an awful prank.

"Are we sure he's not in there?" Aria asked for the millionth time.

"He's not, okay?" Alison soothed. "You've got the lighter, right Spencer?"

"Let's wait a second." Emily pleaded.

"What, Emily?" Alison asked her, exasperated. 

"I don't want to do this."

"Fine. Go back. You're on your own." Once Alison got an idea in her head, she went through with it. The consequences didn't matter. And it was up to us to fall in line, or get out. There was no in between.

"Okay, maybe Emily's right. We should just call the cops. They'll take care of it." Aria chimed back in. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Alison questioned us. "Girls, Toby Cavanaugh is a freak, and we need to teach him a lesson. If he thinks he can come and spy on us while we're in your bedroom, Emily, he needs to know that his little domain is no longer a safe little hideout. Who knows what he does in there all day?" She asked rhetorically. "That little freak."

"Are you sure it was Toby?" Spencer asked one last time, wanting to make sure it was him before we did anything.

"Ali, are you sure? Because this has consequences, if it ever gets out."

"Yes! And it's a stink bomb, for God's sakes, Lily. We're not nuking the place. Now, let's do it. Give me the lighter." Spencer hands Alison the lighter and I sank back next to Hanna.

"I don't like this." I told her quietly.

"I don't either." She agreed with me.

Alison threw something in Toby's garage and whatever she threw in there, it exploded. Alison ran back to us.

"Ali, what did you do?" Spencer demanded.

"Come on, let's get out of here." She told us.

"Let's go," We all said and ran off.

Our phones all rang at the same time and I took a deep breath. None of us moved to look at the message until Jenna said, "Aren't you gonna get that?"

If only she could see how guilty you look

- A

[softersalt]

Alright, let's do the others I've got thoughts on then, in no particular order:

Boyd: I distinctly view his daemon as a rabbit. I take it as a clear given that he's a prey animal by instinct, and not even one that's prey to some things but predator to others; no, he's just prey. Rabbits also play dead, and that was, uh, important to me for him.

Knox: I've been thinking he'd be good with a snake. There's the old mythological association with healing, but that's not really what anyone properly thinks of with them, and that just seems about right for him. I go back and forth on whether or not I think his daemon would be venomous, and I'd be open to whatever other people want to offer up on that one.

Reich: The more I consider other animals, the less I can see his daemon being anything but a wild cat. I knew right off, in the same way Boyd had to be prey, Reich had to be a predator. And I think being a feline suits him better than a canine-- more independent, hunting more on his own than as part of a pack, altogether less social by nature. All of that said, I think it feels more right for his daemon to be one of the smaller wild cats: a lynx, a caracal, something like that, though I don't have one solid one in mind. I just don't know that I see anyone who managed to get sent to Fort Spencer having a typically impressive daemon (like a lion or tiger).

Toffler: Like Boyd, I think he pretty much has to be prey. That said, I wouldn’t give him a daemon that plays dead; his would run. I tend towards the idea of a sheep for him-- the religious associations, mostly, but maybe something about domestication too-- but that's one I'm really not terribly settled on.

Martha: I've really liked the idea of her having a bird daemon for a long time. Mostly vibes, a little bit of something about her getting out in a way no one else does that reminds me of having wings. I'm tending towards water birds when I think more particularly-- geese, swans-- but I haven't got any real reason for it.

Ives: I am so open to any other suggestions, but I am thoroughly amused by the thought of his daemon being a raccoon. Too clever, heightened senses (at least to my understanding), lots of behaviors based around food. Eating things that are Not Intended For Consumption and distinctly inconveniencing those around them in the process.

Slauson: I don't think I've put nearly enough thought into this (by which I mean I just thought of it now and I kind of like it), but I tend towards him having an eagle (yeah, yeah, I know, bit on the nose with the national connotations, but again, all of this part is just what comes to me off the top of my head. Totally accepting different suggestions). They tend to look impressive, but they are scavengers too, and aside from the cannibalism plot points, I just. Like the idea of someone nearer to leading the Mexican-American war having that going on.

I admit to having not even a direction in which to head for George and Cleaves, so I'd definitely like to hear what anyone else thinks about that. This ran on longer than I meant for it to, but I guess I never really have interacted in anything like this before. Hope this is kind of interesting.

I feel like if the gang were animals Hart would be a squirrel but mainly because of his love for nuts & tendency to hide them throughout his desk drawers. Making him a deer would also be fun bc his name. Both very on the nose but hey

[brynnwrites]

midnight at the museum - spencer reid

summary: just a fluffy and very special date night in a museum with your favorite genius

warnings: fluff overload

inspired by the lumineers, 10/10 recommend listening to them while reading

"Spence, can you please tell me where we're going?"

Spencer was sitting in the driver's seat, looking all too pleased with himself as he drove you two through the ever-busy streets of Washington D.C. It was almost midnight, and all he had said before you left your shared apartment was, "Let's go for a drive, I have something to show you."

Surprises were not Spencer's forte. They made him too anxious and he almost always ended up spilling. And usually you could tell beforehand if he was planning something. But this was definitely out of the blue.

"You know what's concerning me at this moment?" You spoke, gazing out the window at the lit up city, "You study serial killers for a living. And you're a genius. Which means you could probably figure out the perfect way to murder me without anyone finding out. Is that what this is?"

"Actually, that's not true," Spencer said factually, "There really is no such thing as the perfect crime. And lucky for you, we're almost there so I don't have time to explain to you all the scientific reasons why."

"You didn't say no," you teased, pretending to look worried.

Spencer chuckled, "Y/N, you know I'm not going to murder you. I'd have to be dead for there to be any possibility of you getting murdered by anyone. Just trust me."

He instructed you to close your eyes before turning down another road, and you had to say you were pretty excited. He parallel parked the car and turned it off. You heard him get out and the shutting of his door, and then yours opened.

"Here, hold on to me," he took your hands, helping you step cautiously out of the vehicle. Once the door was shut and the car was locked, he placed his hands gently over your eyes from behind, "One...two...three...open!"

You opened your eyes and were immediately confused, "Spencer...why are we at the Smithsonian Art Museum? It's way too late for it to be open."

"It's not open to the public, obviously," he took your hand in his, "it's nearly midnight. But it's open for us."

Your eyes lit up, "Are we doing a National Treasure type thing? Cause I'm so down for that."

Spencer chuckled, "No, we're not stealing anything. Just come on, you'll see."

He took you by the hand and led you down the sidewalk and up the stairs to the entrance. A man in a black polo and khakis was waiting for you there.

"Is this the lucky girl?" He asked Spencer.

"I would say yes, but I think I'm the lucky one," Spencer smiled, "Thanks for doing this."

"It's no problem," the man smiled, "Anything for our favorite seminar speaker."

The man led the two of you inside, whispering something to Spencer before locking the entrance again and sitting in a chair by the door.

"I'll be here if you need anything," he said, pulling out his phone.

You turned to Spencer, smiling harder than you thought possible, "Did you really get us into the Smithsonian Art gallery after hours?"

Spencer's face lit up excitedly, "We have the whole place to ourselves for as long as we want. Well, more like for the next two hours, but still."

You should've felt out of place in your yoga pants and one of Spencer's Caltech tee shirts and cardigans, plus your old vans that were the closest ones to the door, all from leaving in such a hurry. But for some reason, it felt just right.

You gave him a playful look and dropped his hand, "Race you to Degas!"

He hardly had time to process what you had said before you were racing down to the elevators. The two of you knew that museum like the back of your hand; it was the site of your first date and many dates afterward.

You were panting my the time you skidded into the exhibit, letting out a squeal of surprise when you found Spencer was already there. He was doubled over in front of one of the sculptures with his hands on his knees.

"Spence, you okay?" You breathed heavily. You were seriously considering signing you and your boyfriend up for a gym.

He nodded, raising a hand weakly to signal he was catching his breath. Eventually, he stood up to his full height, his head tipping back has he breathed out a heavy sigh, "Stairs."

You swallowed lungfuls of air greedily, finally relaxing your racing heart, "How...how did you run up three flights of stairs and all the way across the building in less than three minutes without dying?"

Spencer still panted slightly, shaking his head, "I don't know, I feel pretty dead right now."

You giggled, which in your exhausted state came out more like little puffs of breath, as you walked over to him, "This one's my favorite."

"I know," he smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle as you admired the sculpture, "Little Dancer of Fourteen Years, completed in 1881. Actually, it's your favorite sculpture of Degas', but your favorite painting is over there."

You bit back a grin as your eyes followed where his hand pointed to The Ballet Class. He was right. His eidetic memory always made him remember the little things.

He tucked his chin into your shoulder and just held you there. Everything seemed so magical about the moment, about the whole night. It felt like the two of you were in your own little world, the only ones inside that massive museum full of precious art. It felt like anything was possible.

Once you grew restless, you took his hand and began to wander around your favorite exhibits, running and jumped around in the large, empty halls and entry ways like kids in a candy store.

You played hide and seek and took turns scaring each other by jumping out from behind sculptures and statues. Although Spencer hates seeing you scared for a moment when he startled you, he loved watching you crack up laughing seconds later.

There was one particularly open area that lead to all the different gallery entrances and had a marble fountain in the center.

Spencer lead you over by the fountain, bowing goofily and offering you his hand, "May I have this dance?"

You giggled, "Spence you hate dancing."

He pulled you in anyways, holding you close. You sighed letting your head fall to his shoulder. That's when he began to sing.

"Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help

Falling in love with you."

His voice was off key and strained as it always was. Singing was one of the only things he really couldn't do. But your heart melted anyways, tears clouding your vision as you stared out at the moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows around you.

He giggled slightly at his own voice before continuing, "Oh shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I can't help

Falling in love with you."

He would have kept going, but the moment was far too sweet for you to not kiss him. You pulled away enough to meet his eyes before connecting your lips to his. It was soft and tender, matching the atmosphere.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

You prayed you two weren't being whisked away on a case, not when you were having the best time of your life.

He just smiled at the screen before pocketing it again, "Time for part two."

You were confused but intrigued, allowing him to pull you along as he ran towards the elevators down the hall. Once you were at the top floor, he led you all the way down to a door that read "Staff Entry Only."

He just grinned at you and punched in a code on the keypad next to the door. It hissed as it unlocked, and he pushed it open, revealing a short staircase to the roof. He nudged you to go on in front of him, and you trotted up the steps to the most beautiful sight you were sure you'd ever seen.

He had set up an entire picnic on the roof overlooking the museum district of the city. You could see the thousands of twinkling lights on buildings all around, accented by the fairy lights Spencer set up. A light breeze blew your hair back. It was all just ok perfect to be real.

"Do you like it?" He asked shyly.

You turned to him with the most adoring gaze, "I love it Spence," you gave him a tight hug, "I love you."

He wrapped an arm around your waist and an arm around your shoulders, kissing your head, "I love you too."

The two of spent the rest of your time drinking your time curled up together on the outstretched quilt, drinking favorite brand of lemonade and eating assorted flavors of scones as you stared up at the stars. It was just the two of you, no distractions, not a single other person in sight.

For those few fleeting hours, nothing existed outside Y/N and Spencer.

[radiant-reid]

Impress Me

Summary: Spencer really can't cook, but he doesn't let it stop him from being the absolute best, most thoughtful boyfriend ever.

1. Hello! Can you please write a fic where Spencer decides to learn how to cook for y/n? 🥰 2. can you do a fluffy valentine’s day of readers first relationship and spencer spoiling her (maybe some smut) and just being the best s14/15 guy

a/n: wes is literally the loml so of course, i had to make #2 v-day fic using this gif. i didn't exactly do a s14/15 so you can imagine this with any era. chronologically, it's their first valentine's day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: swearing | tiny sexual themes towards the end | little bit of self doubt spencer

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist Navigation

In his life, Spencer had never had someone who he wanted to impress as much as he wanted to impress Y/n. Spencer still felt like he had a lot to prove to her since he was her very first Valentine, and there was nothing he wanted more than to be her last.

He was so concerned about how to make it perfect that he joined Garcia and JJ in the Batcave during their midmorning gossip session. The wall full of computer screens, and his two longest-running colleagues had to be able to help.

"I need help." Spencer declared, sitting on the spare desk chair with a pout. They were both looking at him with frowns, confused about how they could help him when he usually knew everything but prompting him to continue. "It's Y/n."

Penelope's concerned face took over. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do for Valentine's Day," Spencer explained, blushing about it.

One of the newest things he'd learned was how to stop doubting himself about being a bad boyfriend, and now he was back at stage one, unsure of how to do what had become his favorite job in the world.

"You haven't made plans yet?" JJ asked him, and he shook his head. "Spence, it's the twelfth."

He knew that. And he knew that meant there were two days to go, but he didn't understand it. "Yeah?"

"If you wanted to take her out, I think you probably missed your chance," Penelope explained, causing him grave concern. "It's okay. Just choose something else to do."

Spencer's brain was overclouded with possibilities, but he wasn't sure what was perfect. "Like what?"

"You want to impress her, right?" JJ asked, already knowing the answer that Spencer confirmed with a nod. "Do something intimate. Like have a picnic or cook dinner or build a blanket fort or cook her breakfast." She spewed out recommendations. None of which sounded doable to him.

"Ooo, make her pasta. Rossi has that great recipe." Penelope suggested, recalling the mouth-watering dish Rossi had made a year ago, so memorable it was his signature dish.

Spencer bit his lip, thinking about it for a moment. "I've never cooked for her before." Or cooked for anyone else. He was a kid in college with no time or skill to cook anything but ramen. It couldn't be that hard, though, could it?

"See, that will impress her." Penelope convinced him, smiling at the older version of the young boy, who was so unsure about talking to anyone.

"O-okay." Spencer nodded before his insecurities sunk in, and he bit his bottom lip. "What if it's not perfect? It needs to be. For her, but also because she's never had a valentine before."

Penelope pushed him on the shoulder lightly. "Boy wonder, don't worry so much."

"I just want her to be happy," Spencer mumbled, eyes cast downward at his shoes.

"Give me your phone," Penelope demanded, holding out her hand. Unsure of what she wanted, Spencer slid it out of his back pocket. She turned it on, showing him the lockscreen that he saw every time he looked at a text message or got a phone call. A little moment of joy between the gruesome crime scene details or photos. "See, happy."

The photo was the epitome of happiness. Taking in Rossi's back garden, it was Y/n and Spencer in their best clothing. His arm was around her waist, and their faces were inches apart, close enough they could probably kiss, but instead, they were grinning. Wide grins filled with pure joy as they forgot about their surroundings while getting lost in each other's eyes. Even if he was having a bad day, it made him smile.

Believing her, Spencer nodded. "Thank you." He said to both of them, getting back up to leave them to all the other gossip.

"Make sure you get wine." JJ reminded him.

"And dessert," Penelope added.

Spencer flashed them a thumbs up, slipping out the door and making his way to Rossi's office.

Once he had the recipe that Rossi was more than glad to give him, Spencer knew he had two days to get everything else perfect. With everyone's reassurance, he felt like it would be okay.

Until he had to actually cook.

The kitchen in his apartment should have been used a lot more than it was. All he usually did was pour cereal and reheat leftovers. Nothing as complicated as the pasta dish Rossi had assured him he would be able to make. After all, it was just math, right?

It started out okay. Spencer managed to make the pasta by hand once he brought fresh eggs then cut it into scientifically perfect strips. The accuracy took far too much time, and Y/n was knocking at the door when he started the complex sauce.

"Hi, lovely." Spencer greeted her, softening when he saw her. "You look gorgeous."

His reactions were something she adored, and he looked stunned when he saw her in a new dress- red, of course- with her hair and makeup done nicely.

"Hi, handsome." Y/n leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek as she walked into his apartment. "I got you something." She mentioned, handing him the gift in her hands.

"Thank you," Spencer replied, kissing her on the lips to show his appreciation. He guided her through the apartment she'd been through a hundred times like a maître d' at a restaurant.

Y/n's eyes widened when she saw his dining room, a black table cloth over the table perfectly set with cutlery, flowers, and wine. It even smelt nice, like vanilla-scented candles and his cologne. Definitely something he'd spent a lot of time on, and, like everything he did, it made her feel special.

"Spence." Her eyes already felt a little watery as she beamed up at him. "You did all this?"

He chuckled from beside her, nodding as he pulled her body closer to him. "I did." He answered. "Just to see that smile." How did she get so lucky?

He placed the gift down on the table in the seat that didn't already have a present then uncorked the fancy bottle of Italian wine he'd brought for the very occasion.

"You." Y/n started, taking a glass of wine he'd poured. "Are the most amazing person ever."

Spencer shook his head, picking up his own wine glass and holding it up so he could make a toast. "To you, my girl."

She shook her head, moving her glass so he couldn't clink it. "To you." She proposed a different toast.

"To us." He settled on what she thought was an acceptable toast. She tapped her glass against his, wrapping one arm around his neck while he held her waist. "Did you know the tradition of clinking glasses came from medieval times when lots of wine was poisoned? The host would pour wine from the guest's glass into their own and drink it to prove it wasn't poisoned, and the guest would clink the glasses if they trusted them."

Chuckling down her sip of wine, Y/n giggled a little more. "Spence, why would you tell me that when I'm drinking the wine, you might have poisoned?"

Spencer clenched his teeth together before breaking out in a chuckle. "You saw me open it."

"Hmm, but you are a magician." She countered, tipping her head to the side like she was considering if he spilled her some poison. Playfully rolling his eyes, Spencer took a sip of his wine to debunk her hypothesis. "I really wouldn't have cared if it was poisoned, though, because it tastes damn good." She commented, swirling it around like she was a wine connoisseur.

"I'd love to say I picked it, but I didn't." He truthfully admitted he outsourced help.

It only made Y/n happier. Just the fact that he cared enough to ask for advice made her heart warm. "Well, thank you. For all of this, I really appreciate it."

"I really appreciate you," Spencer reciprocated, eyes drawn to her lips before looking back up at her eyes, definitely having been caught.

Y/n leaned up to kiss him, starting out softly before ditching her wine on the table in favor of tugging on his bottom lip until she could properly make out with him. Spencer gave in quickly, fumbling with his glass so much he almost spilled it because he was too enamored with kissing her to put it on the table.

Apparently, oxygen wasn't a necessity to Spencer because when she pulled away to breathe, his lips were on her neck.

Oxygen was also necessary to keep a fire going, and there was a lot of that in his kitchen. "Uh, Spence." She tried not to moan it out. "Is that your smoke alarm?"

It took him a second to snap out of what he was doing, pulling back and looking in the direction of the kitchen, which was smoky. "Fuck." He groaned with an uncharacteristic swear to express his frustration.

Y/n followed him towards the kitchen, seeing what had happened. Physically, she could taste the smell, wincing when she walked in. "Spence, what is going on?" She asked, noticing the pans and pots on the stove and how messy his kitchen actually was. Clearly, the perfectly set table was a facade for the chaos going on in his apartment. The water in a pot had boiled over, and the pasta had started to burn. Whatever was originally in the pan was now black.

Once he got it under control and she opened the windows, he turned to her with a distraught look. "I'm sorry. I really wanted to do something special, but, evidently, I can't cook even with Rossi's instructions designed for two-year-olds." He apologized, feeling terrible about the poor job he'd done at cooking her dinner.

More than anything, she hated seeing him sad, especially when he thought she wouldn't be delighted with something he'd done. He'd always been her first, and he wanted to do everything possible to ensure he was her last.

"Baby." She cooed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him. "It's the thought that counts."

Spencer scoffed. "That's something someone says when they're trying to make another someone feel better about the terrible job they'd done."

Y/n pulled back, making sure he could see her shaking her head. "No. Well, maybe sometimes." She lightened the mood, getting him laughing. "But I'm not lying. You cared enough about me to make me dinner even though you can't cook." She flashed him a light smile, and he smiled back. "But you care, and that's all that's important to me. That's all I've ever wanted. You're all I've ever wanted."

By the end of her declaration of love, Spencer felt much less like crying. "Thank you, and I'm so sorry."

"You know what else is Italian?" She asked with the award-winning smile back on her face from cheering him up. "Pizza!" She cheered.

"Well, technically, it's not also Italian because pasta is usually credited to a dish Marco Polo brought back from his voyage to China." Spencer delivered the correct information. Some people found it annoying, but Y/n didn't love anything more than his facts.

Cupping his cheek and stroking her thumb over his cheekbone, she kissed him. "So, we can order pizza?"

"Yes." Spencer agreed, already reaching for his phone.

"Pineapple." Y/n reminded him.

She shoved his shoulder when he jokingly shook his head. "That's a crime against Italian food. I'll tell Rossi." He threatened, eyeing her carefully.

"I think it's a crime to burn both pasta and sauce." She countered. A firm believer in it never being too soon to make a joke. "So, if you don't tell, I won't."

Spencer held out his pinky, waiting for her to lock hers around it. "I promise." She sealed the deal, smirking up at him.

"So... we have, what, 20 minutes until it turns up?" She questioned, with something mischievous in her voice.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed with a nod. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Y/n nodded affirmatively. "Most definitely." She grabbed his hands and pulled him out of the kitchen and back to the living room. "Presents!" She cheered, earning a smile from Spencer, who was infatuated by how adorable she was.

She took his one again, switching it with her one in his hands. It felt like Christmas morning, and the anticipation was brewing for the big reveal.

Tearing off the pink wrapping paper with hearts like a little kid, Y/n beamed when she revealed the gift. "You didn't!?" She exclaimed.

"Oh, I so did," Spencer replied, delaying opening his gift in favor of watching her reaction. A box of red eternity roses. Something she had talked about once that he must have remembered. She was lightly crying with the box in her hands. "Because roses symbolize love and my love for you is infinite."

"Stop," Y/n complained, pushing his shoulder. "You're so charming that it's making me cry." She wiped the tears up while trying to hold the roses she'd treasure forever.

Spencer helped her out, cupping her cheeks as he placed a passionate kiss on his lips. "My turn." He declared in a whisper. Delicately, he picked up the gift, unwrapping it before grinning. "How did you even find this?" He asked, utter bewilderment on his features.

It was an original copy of a book Spencer had been looking for in almost perfect condition. "Some serious sleuthing on every book nerd platform out there." She answered, smirking at the nickname she'd given him. Confused, he frowned. "Penelope." She changed her answer.

"Well, thank you. I love it." So much that he was going to struggle to read it that night when all he could do was think about her.

"There's more." She nodded to the rest of the gift bag.

Spencer dug through the tissue paper, pulling out a pair of socks. "What? These are amazing." He said, fascinated with them.

They were hand-knitted socks because she knew his feet got cold when the blood failed to travel down his long limbs and to his extremities. Of course, they were mismatched. One pink with hearts and the other with a purple gingham print.

"Mm, I'm glad you like them." She said, watching him sit down and take off his current socks so he could put the new ones on.

"So comfortable." He sighed, fascinated with the softness and how warm they were.

It took so little to make him happy, and all she wanted to do was spoil him every day. "My sweet boy." She cooed, pulling him back up so she could kiss him again.

Eventually, the pizza turned up, and Spencer hesitated when he went to put it on the table. "Should we eat on the couch?" He offered, glancing at the more comfortable option.

"Please." Y/n nodded. Wherever they spent time together, it didn't matter.

They sat down to eat the pizza, laughing at each other's jokes and unable to stop their grins. Every day, it felt like they couldn't love each other anymore, and, each day, they were proven wrong. It was almost like they'd known each other forever, bonded on such a deep level it seemed unachievable. It wasn't always flawless, but it was always outstanding.

Spencer turned to her once they'd almost finished eating. "I'm really sorry this didn't go as planned." He apologized, the guilt making his heart plunge into a dark place.

"Spencer, I don't know how it could get better than this." She truthfully admitted. Did she think she'd end up eating pizza on his couch? No, but did it matter when he made her laugh and feel more loved than anything else? Not at all.

"It will. If you'll spend next Valentine's Day with me." He promised, taking another bite of his pizza.

She needed to see how he'd rise to that challenge. "Sure, but I love this." This pure bliss that they'd created.

"Noted." Spencer nodded, pulling her even closer into his side.

"I feel bad you set up the table." She guiltily admitted, looking up at him with a pout.

Spencer shrugged, not finding a single problem with their situation. "I did buy Tiramisù for dessert." He mentioned.

It earned Spencer a wide smile. "Oh, you really are perfect." Y/n reminded him before smirking when she thought of something else. Sitting up, she threw a leg over his hips, coming to sit on his lap. "I know something else you could have for dessert." She offered, cheekily grinning.

"Yeah, alright, okay." He stuttered out all at once, not wasting any time getting down to really impressing her with his skills.

Tell me what you think

Taglist

Join here

@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @juneballoon999 @tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @doctorspenceryeet @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @allexthakatt @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @morganwilliams  @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc  @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @thecraziestcrayon @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mugi-chwan95 @gspenc @navs-bhat @idkbubs @mochionly  @nessy-nygma @nani-2305 @casfellinlovewithhumanity @shinyanchorface @nbyrd390 @drayshadow @hot-dino-nuggies @averyhotchner @simonsbluee @collectiveuniverses @meggie-m00n @allthecolorsneverseen @sassymoon @nomajdetective @exmachina187 @exhaleli @lucymfer @stumbleonmywords @reeid @hopefullawyerfishprofessor @graktung @sir1usblacksgf @pinkcoffeecup  @luckyladycreator2 @fairyellieee @malboroniightz @kateyee @corefleur @maybe-not-this @starrylang @citylights31 @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @ssa-uglywhore27 @kitkatkaitin @rocketxgirl @navs-bhat @bellarkeselection @strugglingtodoshit @joy-soul-gallery @venomsvl @harry-is-my-sunflower @luckyladycreator2 @egglantine23 @holding-on-to-my-youth @misselsbells06 @starrylang @lokisel @gryffi-ndor @lilibet261@idkbubs @slutalexis46 @glimmering-darling-dolly @kodiakwhiskey @rocketxgirl @mochionly @goldentournesol @xdsage @missusstark @spaceygirly1 @holding-on-to-my-youth @insomniacbeth @nbyrd390 @shirleyrose @airedale17  @tanyaherondale @buckys-estrella @geekykeen @lovingsherlockmolly @rory-cakes @muwun-blossom @jetblckdreams @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @reidsbookmark @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @idfvc @sammypotato67 @tanyaherondale @1-800-brain-and-heart @stcrrjoon @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @wholesome-beans @frickin-bats @chaoticevilbakugo @goldeng1rl8 @arrowurboat @itzyourgurlnihya @belongwithreid @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @spencer-reids-mismatched-socks @addievermore  @harrymybelovedd @chimpmunk @i3k2ts @axen-gers @gxrlwithluv @finny-of-the-rear @greengarsstuff @altsvu @jakiki94 @narryl0ver @justreadingficsdontmindme @hobireasns @goldentournesol @kbakery @kaitieskidmore1 @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @kbakery @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @geekykeen @thisbitch-6 @andreead @kayleea122 @xoxospencerreid @dirtytissuebox @xoxospencerreid @jaydahlynne @sultrypotter @awhoreforspencerreid @happymangospot @devilslilbabysblog    / @bunny-script    / @pauline5525mgg @fanf1ctionwrit1n @j-cat @captainhotchner @ceeellewrites / @randommmguerr / @sinnxagain / @goofygubler7 / @alotdreamers @reidsbookclub @gublerstwilight @k-k0129 @spookyspence @eevee0722 @iamreallytryingiswear @dontcallmekittens @gublur @countingthestarsinfinitely @xhopingthis-worksx @claryandjacelover @spencersjello @mikewizkalifa @actingchica @almost-a-ladybug @foodsarcasmandyou @illegallygingerr @darkacademicwhore @uhuhuh @alexxavicry @probablycryingg @awkwardnesshabitat @black-veil-baby @uwu-queen-420  @one-sweet-gubler @whovianayesha @buckys-doll17 @gubedawnreid @parahmur @whovianayesha @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @kierstiniscrying @simonsnowsblog @usuck @geekykeen @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @sexy-dumpster-fire @j4sephluv @sophneedsfandoms @asantos7783 @hotchandspencearedilfs  @kitkatkaitin @allthingsfashionn @spideyjass @sammypotato67 @dimpledsmilex3 @vincentvanshoe @nervous-plant @safespacespence @agirlinherhead @maraudersminds @hopelesslystuc @bakugouswh0r3 @ilovespencerreidmarryme  @elnmop @ah-blossom @bellam47 @matthewgraygublerlover @liltiana-ann @happypixy380 @aaija @arrowurboat @reidsonlyangel @xreaderandshits @alohastitch0626 @nyx2021 @assemblemotherfuckers @idjit-sonovawitch @hwngslove @nycreid @helen-with-an-a​ @sydneekomspacekru / @ccosmic-illusion @majooooooooooooooooooo 

[letarasstuff]

(No) Clean Shaven Doctors

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on this concept and on this ask. Have fun reading it!

Summary: How will Spencer's daughter react to him sporting a beard?

Warnings: Mentions of razors, decriptions of shaving, tooth rotting fluff

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) likes her doctors just like Sherlock Holmes: Clean shaven. This may be because she never has seen her father with anything but a five o’clock shadow at most. After all Spencer really doesn’t like the scratchy feeling on his face and neck from growing a beard. But sometimes it’s inevitable.

Nothing hurts the genius more than being away from his daughter for longer than three days. The three year old is his pride and joy. Unfortunately the case they were working on took longer than expected. Way longer. After three weeks and four days the team is finally able to board the jet, having found the UnSub only mere hours prior.

The mood is calm, if not even happy. The team is relieved to come back home. Hotch is missing Jack and Beth. Morgan can’t wait to hug Penelope and get dinner with her to talk about the most recent gossip of the bureau. Emily itches to hold Sergio in her arms and tell him what a good boy he is. Rossi only wants to come home to his mansion and open an expensive bottle of wine. Or scotch, depending on his mood. JJ is excited to finally see Henry and Will again, spending some good family quality time with them.

But nobody is as eager to get home as Spencer. Every free minute he was on the phone, talking with his daughter about anything she wanted to tell him. It’s debatable who misses who more, because both seem to be a mess from what Penelope told the others. Still, it’s understandable. They are the only kind of blood related family they have nearby so it’s natural that they cling to each other.

“Hey kid, what do you think Wonder Baby will say to your new style?” Derek interrupts his reading. Confused Spencer puts his book down to give him his undivided attention. “I didn’t change my style. In fact I wore this outfit the day we departed from Quantico, I don’t understand what you mean.”

Derek laughs and points to the genius’ face. Out of reflex he touches his cheeks, getting the hint. Being the sometimes frazzled mind he forgot to pack his shaving kit. Originally the case shouldn’t have taken more than a week to solve, but the officers at the precinct weren’t exactly solicitous to help the FBI, feeling like they are not good enough to work the case since the feds were getting involved, so most of the work got stuck with the BAU.

Also, to be perfectly honest Spencer hasn’t had the time to buy a razor and shaving cream, too many things were more important than the extended maintenance of the body. “Oh. OH, I’m really not sure. I mean she never saw me with a beard, so I just hope (Y/N) is able to recognize me. I also planned to get rid of it as soon as I get home. I don’t feel comfortable with a squirrel in my face.” (If any of you get this reference, I love you.)

Morgan nods and puts his headphones back on, emerging in a world consisting of music to process what happened on the case.

Not long after this conversation the jet finally touches down in the DC area. Basically every loved one of the team is there to greet them. Most of the time (Y/N) was with Penelope except for a few nights, where the tech analyst had to pull an all-nighter. On these nights she had a sleepover with Henry.

As soon as the team leaves the jet, a big welcoming hug session starts. Many stories are swapped and tears cried in the short time. Only one is looking around in confusion. “Where’s (Y/N)?” Spencer asks Will, who has his arm around JJ. She puts her head on his shoulder, being the disgustingly sweet couple they are.

“Penelope took her to the bathroom, she needed a ‘potty break’”, he answers. His words nearly drowned in the shouted “DADDY!” from a certain girl. Spencer turns around to see his toddler running towards him. A small voice inside his head worries that she is going to fall, because she is prone to clumsiness, and wants to warn her. But his own excitement overrules and he just kneels down to be able to collide with her.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they are reunited. (Y/N) puts her head into his shoulder, murmuring: “I missed you so much. So so much.” Her father’s heart breaks a little at her small voice, a certain sadness resonates with it. “I’m here. I won’t leave you so soon. I missed you, too.” “But I missed you more!” She argues and to prove her point she goes to give Spencer a kiss on his cheek.

Quickly she pulls away. “Ouchy! Daddy, you made me ouchy!” Touching his face again, He understands what his daughter means. Before he is able to reassure her that he will get rid of his beard, she pulls out of his grip. “Daddy, make it go away. I won’t give you kissies until you make go away!” The rest watches this interaction with smiles. Derek tries to muffle his laughter, who is immediately put into his place by Penelope. “It’s about kissies or no kissies, so stop making fun of her”, she whispers in a serious tone.

“Sweetheart, I promise you that I’ll make the scratchy thing go away as soon as we get home, ok?” Spencer holds his pinky out for her to loop her own around it. It’s their ritual of an unbreakable promise. (Y/N) nods and takes it. “Now, do you want me to pick you up and go home? We can have pizza for dinner.” “PIZZA!”

The little crowd disperse quickly after that. Everybody is happy to not see the other for a couple of days, since it’s a Friday night. As much as the team loves each other, three and a half weeks together was a bit too much.

“Alright, Daddy has ordered the pizza and you are in your jammies. Do you want to watch me make the beard go away to make sure it is gone?” (Y/N) nods vehemently. Spencer picks her up and sits her down next to the sink in the bathroom.

With big eyes the toddler follows her father’s moves. Especially putting the shaving cream on fascinates her. “Daddy, me too?” She asks, gesturing her own face. Laughing Spencer boops her nose, leaving a small streak of the white cream. Content with that she continues watching him. Every stroke of the razor is reviewed by her with the most interest. After washing the leftover shaving cream of his and hers face off, she puts her hands on his cheeks.

“Soft again”, (Y/N) wonders, completely amazed by the result. The father smiles softly. “Yes, Baby. The beard is gone. Do you like it?” Her answer is peppering his face with small kisses, tickling him more than he wants to admit.

They spend a calm evening together, watching a few kids movies and building a pillow fort in the living room, where they even sleep in. In the morning Spencer wakes up with his daughter’s cheek pressed onto his.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[alltooreid]

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing. 

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None! 

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . .  Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”                    

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . .  Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup​ @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup​ @s1utformgg​ @averyhotchner​ @widow-cevans​ @rotinireid​

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Meant To Be (ii)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: Over a year after your first interaction with the BAU, it is finally time for your first day as an official team member. Even with all the excitement of the day, the biggest thing you look forward to is seeing Aaron Hotchner again. However, your perfect first day quickly turns out to be not at all what you had imagined. 

Warnings: None, some angst? 

Word Count: 5,585

A/N: Just know that I promise things are going to get better lol.

NOVEMBER 2007

QUANTICO, VA

For the first time in your life the sound of your alarm is a very welcome one as it rouses you from your light slumber. The whole room is filled with light as the sun streams through the cracked blinds. You had been in this apartment for two months now. It had taken some getting used to but it was starting to feel like home. That was very important to you seeing as Quantico was where you were going to be for the foreseeable future. It took you no time at all to sit up in bed, throwing off your blanket. When you got up to start getting ready, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Your clothes draped over the chair at the end of the bed, your go-bag on top of the dresser, and your entry paperwork out on the kitchen table. As always, you had thought out every minute detail. You are determined to make sure that your first day at the BAU is perfect. It had taken excruciatingly hard work and dedication to get to where you are now. Nothing and no one is going to spoil it for you.

After getting dressed in record time you grab your go-bag off the dresser and head out to the living room. You set it on the table next to your paperwork and make your way into the kitchen. Scrambled eggs and toast sound like a good way to start the morning so you get out a skillet and a few eggs. Before you even have a chance to turn on the burner the sound of your phone going off in your bedroom causes you to run back in to check it. As you pull it off the charger you immediately smile widely at the name that flashes on your screen.

“Hey there Miss FBI Agent. God, that sounds good doesn’t it? FBI agent. Or maybe BAU agent. Didn’t I hear you say SSA once? What does that mean? Is it good? It sounds pretty powerful.” 

“It means Supervisory Special Agent. And anything you call me that means I’m not hallucinating this whole thing is fine with me.”

“I like that. SSA Y/N L/N. Sounds official. Which is exactly what you are as of today! How are you feeling right now?”

“Excited. Prepared. Kind of like I’m on top of the world.” 

“As you should! It’s been a long journey to get here, you deserve to enjoy every step. I still can’t believe my little sister is in the FBI.” 

Your sister has been your biggest support system for as long as you can remember. No matter what path you choose, you know she will always have your back. It had been heartbreaking to leave her when you moved but you knew it would be worthwhile in the end. Today is when it finally pays off. She has called you almost every day so even though you are states apart, she is never truly absent. Hearing her voice now, getting the chance to share this moment with her, is more important to you than you know how to express.

“I can’t believe that you’re awake before noon.” This earns a scoff.

“I will have you know that I set an alarm for 5:30 so I would be awake in time to tell you good morning before you head off to work.” 

“That’s very sweet of you. I’m really glad you called.”

“Hey, there’s no way in hell I was gonna miss your first day!” 

“I appreciate that. It means a lot to have your support.”

“Of course! I will always give it freely. Besides, this is too cool not to talk about. You get to catch bad guys. You now have special government access. Plus you can basically read minds. You’re a real life superhero. How totally awesome is that?”

“Oh, I know. Why do you think I wanted the job? I’m glad you’re able to see its merits. Most people find it very morbid. Or boring.” 

“Well most people aren’t us.” Glancing over at the clock, you can’t help a small sigh from leaving your chest. Your sister of course catches on. “Do you have to go?” 

“Yeah. I only have about 15 minutes. Thank you so much for calling though! I always look forward to hearing from you.”

“Well I don’t have any patients today and I expect you to call me later tonight so we can talk about everything, okay?”

“Okay, it’s a plan. I love you.” 

“I love you too. Have a great first day.” You hang up quickly, making your way back into the kitchen to put away what you had gotten out. Instead you pull out a few granola bars to eat on the way. Even though this isn’t quite what you had planned you don’t mind one bit. Talking to your sister is more important. You briefly wonder if she took today off just so she could be there for you or if it is just a coincidence. If it was on purpose, you wouldn’t be surprised. It had always been kind of funny to you what careers both of you had chosen. She is a therapist. You are a profiler. While the two do have distinct differences there are also a lot of striking similarities. It’s just funny how life works out sometimes. Never what you expect. 

You head into the bedroom to grab your go-bag, making sure everything you need is in there. Picking up the paperwork from the table, you head out the door and downstairs to your car. After loading your things up, you turn on the radio to the most uplifting station you can find. This is the kind of morning where nothing less than radiant positivity is welcomed. It’s the first day of your new life and you are going to make the most of it, even if it kills you. 

The drive seems to go by in an instant and soon you find yourself in the parking lot of the BAU headquarters. There is still confidence bubbling inside of you but seeing the building right there in front of you causes the nerves to kick in as well. It seems so much bigger to you now. With a deep breath, you realize you need a little boost from your good luck charm. The small compartment on top of your dashboard opens with a click and you pull out the piece of paper inside. It feels good to have in your hands and you read the name at the top over and over again. Aaron Hotchner. His business card had stayed in your car all these years and whenever you felt nervous or unsteady, you pulled it out and for some reason it always calmed you. You were grateful to have it now more than ever. 

Feeling renewed, you set the card back in its cubby and get out of the car. Things in hand, you stride right up to the front doors and let yourself inside. Once inside the main lobby you head over to the front desk, where a man asks for your ID. Reaching into the front pocket of your go bag you pull out the badge you had collected weeks in advance. A feeling of power washes over you when he clears you, much like a year and a half ago when you had stepped inside the Fort Worth precinct. However, it was a much more intense feeling now. 

The journey towards the main offices of the BAU feels like a dream. The elevator carries you to the right floor and you float towards the glass doors that lead into your new workspace. Inside, it is bright and full of life. People move past you with such fluidity that it seems almost like a dance and baby, you are ready to tango.

Soon your attention is being commanded by a friendly voice you recognize very quickly. “Well, look who it is!”

Morgan makes his way towards you, a wide grin on his face. He looks just how you remember. You are glad the first person to greet you is someone you know. Now standing in front of you, he raises his arms and his expression changes as he silently asks for your permission. With a nod, you reach out as well as he pulls you in for a hug. 

“It’s nice to see you again sweetheart. I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna show up.” Laughing lightly at this, you feel yourself relaxing. “Look at you, all professional. How does it feel?” 

“Completely liberating. It feels like it took me a lifetime to get here and now that I am, I can’t wait to get started.” 

“Well, you’re gonna get your chance sooner than you think. We just got a case this morning. They called us in a little early to debrief us. We’ll fill you in on the jet. It’s go time baby.” He lightly pats your arm with a smile as he leads you over to where the rest of the team is, all sat at their desks. Spencer and JJ you recognize but there’s one face that you haven’t seen before. “Look who finally made it.”

JJ stands quickly to give you a hug, patting your back. “Leave her alone. She was doing a lot of hard work to get here. She doesn’t deserve to be teased in her first ten minutes on the job.” She says to Morgan, shooting him a playful glare. “Welcome. We’re really excited to have you here. You’re going to make a wonderful addition to the team. If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?” 

“I will. Promise. Thanks.” Spencer is the next to stand, extending his hand to you. Taking it in your own, you nod respectfully. You don’t linger, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

“Hi. Sorry, I’m not much of a hugger.” 

“Oh, no need to be sorry. I definitely get it. It’s nice to see you again. I know we didn’t really get a chance to talk the last time we saw each other but I’m hoping to change that now that we’re coworkers.” 

“Of course. I would like that.” There is still a slight awkwardness in the way he smiles but not nearly as much so as when you first met him. He’s the only one of the three that you don’t feel much of a connection with but you are determined to change that. These were your peers now. Your new family. It was important to you that you get to know all of them. It was jarring at first seeing how familiar they are with you already but it doesn’t take long for you to become comfortable as well. However you quickly remember that there is one person you still haven’t met. Turning to her, you extend your hand. 

“Hello. I’m Y/N L/N.” She shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Emily Prentiss. These guys seem to have the advantage here. How do you all know each other?” 

“Oh, I shadowed them about a year and a half ago now while I was still a student. Today is my first day as a member of the team.” 

“That’s wonderful! Well, I’m excited to get to know you as well.” She offers a welcoming smile, one you appreciate. As you look around the bullpen you take note of the fact that Elle is nowhere to be found. At the moment you feel it isn’t your place to bring this up, so you simply smile at the people who are with you now. 

“So, I hear we’ve got a case.” You begin, desperately wanting to learn everything you can now so you can fully prepare yourself.

“Yeah,” JJ answers. “It’s a string of high level armed robberies in Los Angeles. Nobody has been able to identify or apprehend any of the unsubs. There are five of them. All of the robberies were almost identical except for the last one. Someone was shot and killed. That’s when the authorities invited us to work the case.” 

“Sounds like fun, huh?” Derek chimes in, jabbing you with his elbow. 

“I don’t know if fun is the right word. Interesting sounds better, I think. I’m ready to get started though.” 

“Yeah, I see that,” He gestures to your go-bag. “Good thing you’re all packed. That was a smart choice. They don’t always tell you to bring a bag on the first day. You’re all over it though.” 

“Well, you only get one shot at a first impression. I wanted to be seen as professional. Plus I am very rarely unprepared for things.” 

“Good. That’s a pretty good philosophy to hang onto, especially in this profession. The more prepared you are going into it, the better equipped you are to handle the stressors of the job. There’s a lot of tough things you’re gonna have to deal with but if you charge head first with a clear sense of where you’re going and what you’re doing, it’ll take a lot of the anxiety out of it.” You listen intently as he speaks with a tone of sincerity you have not yet heard from him. When he sees you staring at him, he chuckles. “First tip is free but next time I’m gonna charge you. Good advice like that doesn’t come cheap.” 

“Okay, good to know.” You laugh, looking towards the others with a smile. “How about you guys? Any free tips for the newbie?” 

“Yeah,” Emily chimes in. “Don’t listen to anything Morgan says.” This causes him to roll his eyes jokingly. “Although here’s a real piece of advice. No matter what happens, no matter how hard the job gets, don’t forget who you are. Don’t let this work compromise your beliefs and your morals. There are going to be times when you rethink what you know but don’t let the awful things you see harden you and turn you into someone you’re not. I can already see that you have a real light and kindness about you. Never let the bad people take that away from you or else they win.” Hearing this, your expression softens. For only having known you for a few minutes, Emily already seems to have bonded with you. Enough to give you such important advice. Her words linger in your head for a moment.

“I’ll definitely remember that.” JJ places a hand on your arm. 

“Can I add something?” You nod eagerly, wanting to soak up all of the knowledge that you possibly can from these people. “My advice would be to talk to your loved ones as often as you can. Trust me, you’ll definitely want to after some of the stuff that we see. Talking to someone outside of work and grounding yourself in those relationships will help keep you sane. You’re going to be really grateful for a strong support system later on.” 

“Luckily I do have a really strong support system in my sister. She basically raised me. She’s my best friend. It was hard to leave her but I know she still supports my decision.” 

“That’s so great. I’m really glad you have someone like that.” You nod, feeling a small tinge of sadness when you think about how much you wish she was here with you. However, it passes quickly when Morgan puts his hand on your shoulder as a sign of comfort. The gesture is simple but calming, almost as if he’s telling you that he is a part of your support system now too. You know the people surrounding you will have your back. That thought lifts your spirits immeasurably. 

“What about you? I’m sure I could get some good advice from a genius.” You say to Spencer after clearing your throat. 

He chuckles lightly and thinks for a moment. “I guess I would say don’t let your age stop you from reaching your potential. You and I are the same age so I think I know to some extent how nerve wracking all this must be. Just know that even though you are young you have a lot of skills and abilities to bring to the table. Chase after what you want and soak up everything you can now. I’m obviously a strong believer in the collection of knowledge so the more you learn the better off you’ll be later. And you have as much right to be here as anyone else. You’ve done the work so believe in your own skills.” The three of you watch him for a moment and he looks between you. “But, hey, what do I know.” His joke makes you laugh.

“No, that’s really good advice. Thank you.” Before you have a chance to say anything else, a voice from behind causes all of you to stop.

“What’s all the commotion out here?” Turning around quickly you see an older man with dark hair standing on the walkway that wraps around the bullpen. His eyebrows are raised as he begins making his way towards you. Upon seeing him you put on your best professional face but the others seem to stay relaxed as he walks over to you. Once he’s standing next to you he offers you his hand. “Hello.” You take it quickly, shaking hands with him as you maintain eye contact. Unsure of who this man is, you are afraid to make a bad impression. As you look into his eyes there is something so strikingly familiar about him but you aren’t quite sure what it is. “Who might you be?” 

“Sorry, sir. I am Y/N L/N. Today is my first day as a member of the BAU. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His dark expression immediately lightens as he gives you a small smile. 

“Ah. It’s nice to meet you as well. Sorry to scare you. I just have to keep these trouble makers in line from time to time.” Seeing him smile causes you to grin as well, beginning to relax again.

“Of course. It’s not a problem at all sir.” 

“Well I’m David Rossi. Welcome to the BAU, I guess would be an appropriate introduction. I promise I’m not always so scary.” 

“Just most of the time.” Derek adds, causing David to give him a look.

“Please ignore him. I like to think I’m a nice man. I don’t want to scare you off on your first day.” At this you can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh trust me sir, you won’t. I’ve worked really hard to get here. There’s no getting rid of me now.” This causes him to laugh. 

“That’s a good attitude to have. It’ll get you pretty far in this career. Keep working, keep putting the bad people away. It may take a while but it’s a gratifying feeling. In the meantime, just keep your chin up and you’ll be just fine. You seem like a bright kid.” 

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” 

“Please, you can call me Rossi. Everyone else does.” 

“Okay. Rossi. Thanks.” With a warm smile he pats your arm. 

“If you want a prime example of working hard to get ahead, look at Hotch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man not at work. That’s why he’s the boss.” Derek says. His words make your breath hitch. Just the mention of his name makes you nervous. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him and you only spent time together for one day but even so he has been such a huge inspiration to you. And seemingly for good reason. You already know that Hotchner is going to be the man to impress around here but you don’t mind that much.

“Speaking of, have you spoken with Hotch yet today?” Rossi asks. 

“No. I actually have some paperwork that I need to give to him before we leave, clearing me to travel and all of that. Could I possibly see him now?” You try not to sound too desperately hopeful.

“Yeah, of course. His office is right up there.” Rossi points to a door across the room. With a deep breath you nod in gratitude and then begin making the walk over to his office. It seems like an endless journey as you remind yourself over and over again that he’s just a person and you don’t need to be so afraid. Or nervous. Excited? Infatuated? Whatever the feeling is, it’s overwhelming. Once you’re outside his door, you close your eyes and breath before knocking. His voice is clear coming from the other side as he tells you to come in. 

Opening the door cautiously, you step inside with paperwork in hand. Hotch is sitting at his desk filling something out, not looking up.

“Good morning sir.” Upon hearing your voice he looks quickly up at you. His eyes are just as dark and intense as you dreamed, fixated completely on you. The two of you maintain eye contact for a moment and the world is nothing but him. Suddenly realizing what you’re doing you force yourself to snap out of it, reminding yourself that this man is your boss and you’re acting like a lunatic. 

“Good morning.” He says simply, not moving as he watches you intently. Willing yourself to gather up all of your confidence, you walk over to stand right in front of his desk. 

“It’s really lovely to see you again. Being here is like a dream. At the BAU, I mean. I’ve been looking forward to it for so long, I almost can’t believe that I’m here. Now that I am though, I’m ready to work. I plan to earn your trust now just like I did the last time we worked together. I won’t let you down.” With a sudden flush of embarrassment, you grip the papers tightly. You have only been in his office for a few seconds and already you have completely exploded in excitement. Taking another breath, you calm yourself. “Sorry sir. I’m just very excited to be here. If you couldn’t tell.” 

There is another moment of silence as Hotch’s eyes stay locked on yours, scrutinizing your expression with calm intensity. For a second you can almost see him thinking, as though he’s working something out in his head though you aren’t quite sure what that is. After a moment he stands up, putting you both on equal footing. Everything about him commands your focus and attention. A quiet prayer hangs on your lips as you wait for him to say your name again after all this time. Just once is all you need and then you’d be happy. No more daydreams, no more delusions, no more distractions. Just once and you can do your job. If only he’d quit staring at you so deeply and tell you exactly what you want to hear.

“I do appreciate your heartfelt words ma’am but I’m afraid I’m at a loss. I’m not sure I know who you are.” With that your heart drops. Of all the things he could have possibly said, this was the most disappointing. It’s such a small sentence but it is a mighty blow.

“I’m sorry?” You inquire, hoping that maybe you misunderstood.

“I’m really very sorry ma’am but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not sure we’ve ever met.” Nope, you had understood what he was saying perfectly much to your dismay.

“My name is Y/N L/N sir. We did meet a little over a year ago now. You came to my hometown to work on a case and I spent the day shadowing you. I was a student at the time. Today is my first day here as a team member.” Hotch says nothing in response for a time, his expression exposing what seems to be a deep sense of regret. 

“I apologize. We go through a lot of cases, it’s difficult for me to keep track of all the people that come and go in my life.” That is all you need to hear to shut down any further fantasizing. You had come and gone from his life a long time ago. Frankly you feel foolish for indulging these thoughts anyway. It was one day a year ago. There is nothing to look into. He is your boss now, not some high school crush. This is a professional environment. This would be for the better anyway. At least those are the sorts of things you tell yourself. “I really don’t mean any offense. It’s nice to meet you. Needless to say we’ll get to know each other now since we’ll be working together. Welcome to the team.” He tries to soften his expression but there is still a severity to it that doesn’t ease the knot in your stomach. 

“It’s really my fault, sir. I shouldn’t have expected you to remember me. It was a long time ago and you’re a very busy man. No offense taken. I’m excited to work with you.” Trying to change the subject, you extend your paperwork towards him. “Here’s all of my entry paperwork. It gives me authorization to travel, my medical and professional history is there as well. All I need is your signature and I will be clear to begin working.” Looking through it quickly he nods before signing each of the necessary lines. He hands it back to you and you nod awkwardly before deciding to merely head towards the door. “Thank you sir. I’ll take this to the front desk really quickly and I’ll be good to work this latest case. I’ve already brought a go-bag.” 

“Oh, you won’t be needing a go-bag.” This stops you in your tracks.

“I won’t?” You ask, turning to face him. 

“No, you won’t. You’re not travelling with us for the case.” Every dream you’d had about your first day at the BAU is crumbling around you with every word that comes out of his mouth. 

“Can I ask why, sir?” Leaning down to open a cabinet, he pulls out his own go-bag and unzips it to check its contents. This simple act of dismissal is enough to make you feel an inch tall. 

“It’s only your first day, I don’t hardly know anything about you. I don’t feel comfortable taking an agent into the field that is practically a stranger to me and to the rest of my team. It will only compromise your safety and the safety of others. When I get back, we’ll have a discussion and see where you’re at when the next case rolls around.”

“But sir,” For a second your own words ring in your head. You’re the boss. No explanation necessary. You are not the kind of person that questions authority. You never have been and you thought you never would be but hearing your new boss say this to you makes your blood boil for some reason. It’s like Spencer said. You have as much right to be here as anyone else and you have not gone through seven years of grueling work to be put on the sidelines from day one. “I have studied and trained for a long time. I put in the work, the same as the rest of you and that’s why I’m here. I didn’t just show up on accident, it’s because I’m good at what I do. I have all the paperwork and I am prepared to put in the effort on this case.” His movements have stopped now and his eyes stay locked on yours, unable to look away as you speak. Once you’re finished he breaks away and sighs deeply. 

“I am not disputing any of that but I am responsible for the safety of my team and now that includes you. It would make me feel much better if I could talk with you before sending you to the front lines. I’m on your side here even if it doesn’t seem like it. But at the end of the day I am your boss and I have final say. The answer is no. I want to like you, Y/N. Don’t give me reason to distrust you on your first day.” 

“Yes sir,” Is all you are able to mutter as you feel yourself deflate. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.” The shift in your demeanor must have been palpable because his expression suddenly softens and a hint of a smile ghosts over his lips as he walks over to you. 

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry to disappoint you but you’ll have your chance soon enough.” With that, he grabs his bag and walks out of the office. In no more than ten minutes all of your big hopes and dreams for your perfect first day at the BAU were crushed. Everything has been happening so fast that it still seems like it might not be real. It’s all you can do to walk back out into the bullpen. Derek is the first one to notice your mood shift. 

“What happened?” With a forced smile you shake your head.

“I’m not going to be joining you guys. The boss doesn’t feel comfortable letting me into the field just yet. I guess it makes sense.” Hearing this, Derek, JJ, and Spencer all three share a confused look.

“It actually doesn’t make that much sense. If you’ve got the paperwork, you are clear to go in the field. Everything should be in order. I’m not sure why he would wanna keep you behind. You’ll learn more in the field than you will sitting here.” Emily and JJ nod in agreement and you shrug off his questioning.

“It is what it is. I’ll just have to make the most out of it.” You quiet down but he can see that there is still something upsetting you.

“Okay, come on. What else happened?” The expression on his face is one of determination as he stares you down, waiting for an answer. 

“It’s nothing really. It’s just that he didn’t remember me and I was a little disappointed. That’s all. It’s not really a big deal.” 

“No, that is definitely a big deal. Hotch is not a forgetful man. Especially when it comes to people. If he worked one on one with you a year ago and he knew you were going to be a future member of his team, he would have paid especially close attention to you. That just definitely doesn’t seem right to me.” As much as you agreed with him you decided now wasn’t the time to push the issue. 

“Well, I’m sure he just had a lot on his mind. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, good luck guys. I’ll see you when you get back.” The look on Derek’s face indicates that he wants to continue the conversation but he doesn’t. The three of them grab their go-bags and head to the door. Following them you smile when Derek gives you a side hug.

“We’ll all go get a drink when we get back. I promise.” You nod. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Before he can walk out the doors with the others you stop him. “Hey. Thanks. I know we still don’t know each other that well but I appreciate you making me feel welcome.” 

“No problem, kid. You’re one of us now. We have to protect our own.” With one last smile he disappears through the main doors. Stepping out after him you stop when you see Hotch standing right outside the doors. With a small breath you walk over to him. 

“You’ll be working with our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. Go down to the bottom floor. Her office will be the third door on the right when you get off the elevator. She’ll introduce herself. She’s very friendly. We’ll speak when I get back.” With that, he too disappears. 

In little more than thirty minutes, your perfect day is ruined before it has even really begun. Thoughts spin inside your head faster than you can comprehend. It feels like your fault for letting your expectations get so high. There is no way of erasing it. No matter how many good days you have from here on out, your first day at the BAU will always be a sad memory. It hadn’t been all bad of course. It had been nice to talk with the other team members for the short time that you had. However, that feeling was quickly ruined by your interaction with Hotchner. He was one of the main reasons you were so excited to begin working. You were sure that he would have some inspirational words of advice for you but all he had done was make you feel belittled. There was no way of taking that back. Now you were side lined for your very first case and it was completely out of your control. You really wish you had your good luck charm right about now. Something tells you you’re going to need it now more than ever. The Hotch that exists within that business card is the one you want to linger in your memories. The respectful and professional agent who had made you feel so respected and appreciated. That is the Hotch you need right now but that isn’t the man you’d spoken with today. That is what broke your heart more than anything. With one last longing look at the main doors you gather yourself up and head down to meet Penelope Garcia. 

Tags:  @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gamingaquarius @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut​ @ssahotchie​ @ohpedromypedro @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster @maxlordd @pascalisthepunkest @paintballkid711 @hotchafterhours @h0tchner @ssahotchswife @ssahotchhner @technotic-prophecy @klinenovakwinchester @hotch-stufff​

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: i hit 200 followers!! as celebration, i put out a list of 40 prompts and you can send me an ask with up to three and i will write a one-shot including them! i have already received one request and i’m already in the process of writing it but i would love to write more!

Masterlist

Chapter 23

You inhaled sharply as you sat up in the hospital bed. Spencer looked at you, concerned.

“The doctor gave you the option to stay here for one more night. Are you sure you want to be discharged today?” Spencer asked.

“I need to go home. It’s so boring here. I’ll heal quicker at home, I promise,” you whined.

“Scientifically, that’s not possible but fine. Don’t think for a second that I’m going against the doctor’s orders though. Bed rest for a week,” Spencer brushed the stray hairs off your face and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re no fun,” you pouted as he helped you into the wheelchair.

“I think Jo and Penelope have a little surprise for you waiting at home that will cheer you up,” Spencer smiled.

-

Spencer insisted on carrying you bridal-style through the front door because you couldn’t walk up the steps.

“We’re not officially married yet,” you teased.

“Oh hush, I’d keep you in my arms forever if I could,” he pulled you closer to his chest.

You snuggled into his cardigan that smelled like an old bookstore, “I guess I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Spencer slowly put you down and opened the door to your bedroom. Technically, it was you and Spencer’s shared bedroom now because he hardly ever used his bedroom now other than as storage for his things. Most of his clothes had already migrated to your closet and one of your bedside tables now had piles of books, a journal with chicken scratch, and his reading glasses atop it.

Inside, you saw Jo and Penelope holding heart balloons that said “Get Well Soon!” and a big teddy bear.

“Awww, thank you, my lovelies,” you smiled.

“I brought the mini fridge from my office so you are fully stocked with waters, juice, ice cream, fruit, whatever your little heart desires,” Penelope chirped.

“Thank you, Pen. You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad now. Where are you going to put your lunch?”

“Nonsense, my dear! There’s a fridge in the break room I can use. Don’t worry about me,” she assured you.

“And I made you drawings, Mommy,” Jo gestured to the walls of the room covered in colorful crayon sketches of animals, dinosaurs, trees, and people.

“Oh my god, these are so gorgeous, Jo! They are definitely going to help me get better, thank you.”

Jo hopped up on the bed to give you a hug.

“You’re welcome, Mommy,” she said as you planted a kiss on her head.

“Alright, I’m going to head out. Let me know if there’s anything I or anyone else at the BAU can do, literally anything, you just name it,” Penelope stated.

“Bye, Pen. Thank you so much,” you waved.

“Do you want soup? Spring rolls? Tea? What can I do for you, love?” Spencer eagerly asked.

“Could you please see if we have the ingredients for a cake for a special little 7 year-old?” you grinned.

“One cake, coming right up,” Spencer nodded, “Jo, do you want to help or stay with Mommy?”

“Stay with Mommy,” Jo grabbed the TV remote and curled into your side.

“Can you handle it?” you asked hesitantly, knowing baking wasn’t really Spencer’s forte.

“I will try my best,” he smiled, “And if not, I will go to the store.”

-

An hour later, Spencer opened the bedroom door, holding a chocolate cake with purple candles. He looked absolutely adorable, he was wearing your sunflower apron and he had flour residue on his nose.

“As promised,” he smiled, setting the cake down.

Jo was practically drooling as the cake was set in front of her.

“Hold on, I need to get plates and forks!” Spencer rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

“You better hurry. Jo looks like she is ready to just start eating it with her hands,” you laughed.

-

A week later, you woke up super early and jumped out of bed, dancing around a little in Spencer’s sweater, your PJ shorts, and fuzzy socks.

“Bed rest is over!” you cheered quietly to yourself, going downstairs to make banana bread.

Spencer came down fifteen minutes later as you were dancing around the kitchen to your music and whisking the batter.

“Bed rest is over,” you beamed as he came up behind you, tucking his chin into your neck and squeezing you softly, leaving a kiss as he pulled away.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“And I love you too...Spence, I was thinking…” you turned to face him after you put the pan in the oven.

“About what?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his mug of coffee.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. Can we please get married already?” you asked.

“Like now now?” he smiled softly.

“Like as soon as we can but still having a small ceremony so our friends and family don’t kill us for eloping,” you placed your hands on his chest.

“JJ and Will had their wedding in Rossi’s backyard,” Spencer suggested.

“Penelope did say if we needed anything, just ask,” you grinned.

Spencer already had his phone out of his pocket before you could say anything else. He dialed Rossi and put it on speaker.

“Reid, to what do I owe this pleasure on a lovely Tuesday morning,” Rossi spoke through the phone.

“Hey, Rossi. Y/N and I kind of have a big favor to ask,” Spencer began.

“Name it.”

-

Everything was a whirlwind after that. You decided Saturday evening would be best for the wedding so you and Spencer had exactly five days to coordinate your wedding.

Luckily, the team took care of most of the planning like the caterer and the set-up of Rossi’s backyard but you and Spencer’s opinions were still needed for everything from which flowers you wanted in your bouquet to what flavor of cake.

You and Spencer sat in bed one night criss-cross across from each other and you each had a little journal and pen in your hand. You both wrote your vows over the next hour. Spencer would occasionally look up at you, stare for a minute, silently smiling, and then continue jotting something down.

Spencer pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned over your journal.

“No peeking!” you rolled on your back, flailing your legs so he couldn’t get to your journal.

“Ugh fine, I surrender,” he laughed, grabbing on to your legs to stop your movements, “I guess I can wait 3 more days.”

He leaned down to kiss you.

“3 more days,” you repeated with a dreamy smile.

-

You and Jo met the BAU ladies at a boutique to get dresses for everyone. You had decided on a dusty blue for the bridesmaid dress color but you let them choose which style they wanted so everyone was matching but still got to decide which dress they liked best.

Jo was essentially given free rein in the children’s section of the store and chose a pale pink dress with a bow on the back that would serve as her flower girl dress.

After all that was settled, everyone gathered on the couch near the fitting room to watch you try on dresses, you had been saying from the start that you just wanted something simple. All the options in the store were overwhelming to you but the girls insisted you at least try on a little of everything to get a feel for it.

You came out in a huge poofy wedding dress courtesy of Penelope.

Jo burst out in giggles, “Mommy looks like a cupcake.”

“I think anything overly poofy is ruled out. I want to be able to pee without the help of 3 bridesmaids,” you walked back into the fitting room.

Next was a gown with lots of detailed beading and lace and a long train.

“I think it’s too much,” you sighed, “Plus, I don’t want to trip on this train while walking down the aisle,” you returned to the stall.

You walked out of the dressing room once more and everyone gasped.

“Oh my god,” Penelope was fanning her face to dry the fast-forming tears.

“Y/N, I don’t want to speak for you but I think this is the one,” JJ smiled.

The dress you were wearing was a white satin gown. It was a maxi dress with spaghetti straps and it hugged your hips but was loose around your legs so it was still comfortable.

“It’s perfect,” you smiled softly, looking in the mirror.

Jo hopped off of Emily’s lap and joined you on the little stage, still in her flower girl dress, doing a little twirl. You started to cry from all the happiness and pent-up excitement you were feeling.

-

“Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer asked when you got home.

You rounded the corner to the couch where he was laying.

“That good?” he asked.

“What?” you furrowed your brow, looking at him in confusion because you hadn’t said anything yet.

“You have remnants of mascara on your cheeks indicating that you were crying and that means you must have found the perfect dress because Jo is over there grinning like a fool,” Spencer smiled.

“You know you’re a retired profiler, right?” you teased.

“Mommy looked so pretty, Daddy! You wouldn’t even believe it!” Jo exclaimed.

“Oh, I believe it, Princess,” Spencer lifted Jo up on to his lap, “I know it’s against the rules for me to see Mommy’s dress but can you do a fashion show for me with yours?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, running up to her room with the bag in her hand.

“Ready!” she called out a few minutes later.

“Now introducing your royal highness, Princess Josephine Y/L/N-Reid,” Spencer announced as Jo walked down the stairs, doing a fancy royal wave.

A/N: i absolutely can not wait to write the wedding chapter

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

[starbuck]

Ravenous is Haunted

Within the lore of Ravenous, eating people causes you to “absorb [their] spirit,” but what does that mean in practice?

Ives mentions that eating someone brave gives you a surge of bravery, which is exactly how Boyd goes from too scared to move to single-handedly capturing the enemy command. The spirit of his fellow soldiers and specifically his commanding officer compel him to do it. But we know that this personality shift is not permanent, it abates. However, I believe that there are other more subtle influences that remain. 

There’s a whole collection of things Boyd, Ives, and Hart do and say that mirror the actions and words of the people they’ve eaten…

The protectiveness that Boyd shows towards the Fort Spencer crew after Ives arrives as colonel is a new trait for him and highly reminiscent of Reich’s protectiveness towards Toffler. From the moment he’s stuck with Ives at the fort, Boyd also immediately decides to murder him, the thing that Reich died furious at him for not doing, and never strays from this mission at all. Boyd and Ives both headbutt each other in their final fight, a Knox fighting move, and Boyd also attempts to strangle Ives at one point, which is Reich’s. Another example that I like is when Hart says to the chickens he’s feeding “run away! run for your lives!” which is what Toffler died doing. These are all small moments in isolation, but together they form a compelling picture. 

For another thing, you have Boyd mentioning to Hart near the end the “nightmares” he’s “still” having about Reich, Cleaves, and Knox. These aren’t just random trauma nightmares, they are specifically about the three people of the Fort Spencer crew that he’s eaten. And, considering how strongly Hart reacts to the mention of this, he is likely experiencing the same thing. Since it is canon that they have actually ABSORBED these people by eating them, I don’t think it’s a stretch at all to call this a haunting. 

Put these together and you have the people who have been eaten haunting the cannibal characters at night and maintaining at least some sway over them by day, often without them even realizing it… Fun stuff!

As far as Ives goes, I think that he is less affected by this phenomenon than Boyd and Hart are. He’s been eating people for much longer than they have, he has no moral compass whatsoever, and he has a very strong personality, so he’s not gonna let a little haunting get to him. That being said, who knows what quirks of his personality we might be able to attribute to people he’s eaten in the past if we knew more about them? I also think that his assumption that he is unaffected by the people he eats is a part of his downfall, and I’ll explain that in a moment. 

The last thing I want to talk about is the bell because that’s what REALLY gets me mmmmmmmmmmm… SO! During Boyd’s fight with Ives, there’s a moment where Ives has fled the room they were fighting in and Boyd doesn’t know where he is, so he’s checking behind all these random doors and not finding him when he hears a bell ringing in the courtyard. He goes out and sees the ringing bell but no one near it. Instead of going towards it where he knows Ives is likely waiting for him though, he walks towards the barn, as if in a daze. When he enters, he sees the bear trap and gets an “Aha!” look on his face. 

Now, who do we know who is associated with both that bell and a bear trap? It’s Reich! He is the only person we ever see ring that bell and (in a deleted scene) he uses bear traps as target practice, shooting at them to snap them shut while Boyd watches. So, at the very least, we can say that Reich indirectly inspires Boyd in that course of action. 

BUT, because I am me, I’d like to take it a step further by proposing that, since Reich is haunting both Boyd AND Ives, he influences Ives to ring the bell (with Ives not consciously thinking anything more of about than “this will surely get Boyd’s attention >:)”) and then influences Boyd to walk over to the barn instead of immediately continuing the fight so he can show him how to end it once and for all. Boyd asked Reich to “tell me what to do,” and Reich answered him!

I did also write a fic about this concept a few years ago if anyone is interested!

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Fools in Love

Summary: He can explain how String Theory works. He can figure out Riemann Hypothesis. He can recite all the numbers of pi until he’s blue in the face. Yet somehow, Spencer Reid can’t figure out what to do for his first first anniversary. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader 

Warnings: Spencer Reid is a self-deprecating mf, Jane Austen quotes? But there’s a happy ending 

Word Count: 3128

Fools in Love

He scratches the back of neck, a nervous habit that he’s sure makes him look weak. He wants to find the perfect recipe to make a wonderful meal for Y/N. It’s his first first anniversary so Spencer’s completely lost as to what to do. Y/N deserves the most romantic dinner, especially considering how much chaos he causes. It must be a lot to put up with him, Spencer thinks. He’s even more useless when it comes to love than when it comes to cooking. While he might not be a fan of technology, given he has the Thai place down the street from his apartment on speed dial. She doesn’t deserve some take out Thai with paper plates. But he’s a scientist, a well-known and well-educated scientist who is completely failing at planning his first anniversary.

It was useless. Completely and utterly useless, Spencer thought to himself as he ran his fingers across the various titles of cookbooks. Some featured complex dishes from Korea and others were 30 minute meals of the vaguely Midwest variety. Spencer never in his entire 33 years of living felt so out of place in a library. He’s so at home in between the stacks of books, he finds the comforting words of long dead authors and intricate mathematical theories a second home. However, it seems that Spencer Reid has found the most intimidating section of the library: cooking.

And what do academics do when they are at a crossroad? Well, they call in the experts. The love expert came in the shape of Agent Derek Morgan himself. This idea just might be the most brilliant thought Spencer’s had or the dumbest, but Y/N is worth it. 

Okay, maybe it was a mistake to come to Derek, Spencer thinks as he sits in front of his friend, a coffee in his hand and an expression of pure fear on his face. 

“You want me to, what?” Spencer asks, shocked at Derek’s suggestive advice.  

“Lie in bed naked, call Y/N on the phone and make something up. You’ll be waiting in bed and then BAM! Anniversary sex,” Derek says, his eyebrows wagging as he sips his coffee. 

“Are you messing with me, Morgan?” Spencer says, his face pale from the very thought of lounging in bed naked, waiting for Y/N to come over to his apartment.

“Why not, I’m sure it would get you laid,” Derek reasons. Get me laid? Spencer and Y/N don’t get laid, he thinks. They do have sex, but it’s not getting laid. It’s more romantic and loving than just whatever Derek suggests. 

God, he can’t tell Derek that, he’d never live it down. 

“You have slept with Y/N, right?” Derek asks, suddenly nervous that he touched a nerve with his friend. As much as he likes to tease, Spencer knows that Derek doesn’t mean any harm, hence why he’s the first person he thought to come to. 

“We prefer to call it making love,” Spencer says, pretending to be very interested in his chocolate donut and trying to fight off the blush that rises to his cheeks. Even a year into their relationship, Spencer still gets butterflies at thinking about Y/N like that. 

“So you want this to be more romantic than just fucking, because you’ve done it for a year?” Derek proposes as simply as if he’s talking about a case. Not that talking about serial victims is anymore normal or weirder than the current conversation. 

“Morgan and you please stop talking about Y/N and sex in the same sentence?” Spencer says through gritted teeth. 

“Reid, kid. I’m just busting your chops, I know who you feel about Y/N. When you two are in the same room, it’s like there’s no one else in the world. And it’s kinda hard to get your mind to focus on one thing, but Y/N does that,” 

“I know,” Spencer says. “I can’t mess this up Derek. I can’t give another person a reason to leave me,” 

“Y/N won’t leave because you can’t plan a terrible anniversary dinner,” Derek says comfortingly. 

“I checked out 7 cookbooks, Morgan. 7, and I read them on the metro home. It’s useless, I’m useless,” Spencer laments.

He looks up to try to read Derek’s expression. The last thing he’d want to see on his face is pity or worse laughter. No, Spencer. Derek is your best friend. He’s the closest thing you have to a brother. Spencer feels almost guilty for thinking that Derek would laugh at him, while he might like to tease him, especially about his lovelife, they trust each other inexplicably. What’s written on Derek’s face is not pity or ridicule, it’s a smile. A smile not for Spencer, but for the colorful woman walking towards their table. 

“You told Garcia?” Spencer groans, but scooting over so Penelope would have a spot to sit with them. 

“Of course I told Garcia, kid. You know better than anyone that we can’t keep anything secret,” Derek explains, leaning in to kiss Garcia’s hand. 

“Spencer Reid! I can’t believe you,” Garcia says, smacking Spencer’s arm lightly. 

“Garcia!” Spencer shouts, clutching his coffee and hunching down in his seat to avoid being hit by the tech goddess with her hard rings on her surprisingly strong hands. 

“Don’t Garcia me, Reid. You need me, whether or not you realize it or not. I’m irreplaceable,” she tells him, grabbing a pink notebook and a fluffy green pen from her bag. 

Spencer nods in understanding, as much as he hates it, he knows that he needs help. It’s just a hard pill to swallow when help comes in the form of Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, perhaps the two people on Earth who are the most in love. 

“I know I need you guys,” Spencer says, looking from Garcia to Derek, half expecting them to tell him to order some terrifying sex toy from a scretchy store on the edge of town or something equally horrifying. 

“What’s something that she likes? You know like a special thing that Y/N would never think about getting herself” Garcia asks, making notes with the fluffy when that bounces as she writes. 

“She likes to read,” Spencer suggests, thinking about the first date that they had. They talked for hours about their favorite books and ended up getting booted from the library for overstaying their welcome. Y/N found it quite endearing that The Little Prince is Spencer’s while her is anything and everything by Jane Austen. He thinks back to her eyes gleamed when talking about the book, or how passionate she got when she argued that Mr Knightley and Emma were soulmates. 

“Okay, that’s a start Spencer. Really good,” Garcia says, trying to boost her friend’s confidence. 

“What else?” Derek asks, thinking about the times when he and Y/N hang out with Spencer and Penelope. 

“Fret not, Boy Wonder,” Garcia says, softly patting Spencer’s shoulder, “I’ll take care of this,” she finishes as she reaches into her bag, that seems to have a never ending bottom, and pulls out a laptop. 

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

“So Garcia and Morgan took over your anniversary plans and basically just made it how they’d want to spend their anniversary?” JJ offers, as she hands Spencer a beer from her refrigerator and sits back down at her kitchen table. 

Spencer takes a swig of his beer and shrugs his shoulders, thinking about how wrong this whole anniversary dinner has gone. 

“I just wanted this to be special, JJ. I know it’s only been a year, but Y/N is it for me. God, she was it for me on the third date,” Spencer confesses. 

“I know, Spence. I’ve never seen you this happy. Happiness looks good on you,” JJ tells him. 

“Y/N makes me happy, she puts up with me, so the least I can do is make this perfect for her,” 

“Spence, don’t sell yourself short,” JJ says, “You’re a kind man and a wonderful boyfriend, you’re both lucky to have each other,” 

“Thank you, JJ, but Y/N is the better person in this relationship. That’s why this needs to be perfect,” Spencer explains, his self doubt still littering his mind. 

“What about a baseball game? You can pay for a message to pop up on the Jumbotron. Like Happy Anniversary, Y/N,” JJ suggests, and Spencer really can’t tell if JJ is joking. She can’t possibly think that Y/N and he would have a romantic anniversary with the threat of getting pelted in the face with a baseball. 

“Sports games are not our forte, JJ. I honestly can’t tell who’d hate sitting in the sun for hours with angry sports fans,” Spencer adds. 

“Okay so no sports, I should have figured, Spence,” JJ winks knowingly. “How about this, think about somewhere that’s special to you two. Somewhere that makes you think of her,” 

“The thing is JJ, everyplace we’ve been together makes me think of her. The elevator when she first kissed me, the movie theater we always go to on Saturday nights, even the sidewalk outside my apartment building. Everything makes me think of her because she’s my everything,” Spencer says, hiding his discomfort at the conversation. 

“Spence, I think that anything you plan, will be wonderful. Have a little trust in yourself for once, Y/N is already head over heels in love with you, so I doubt that she’d really care where you go or what you do,” JJ advises, clearing up the dirty dishes from their Friday night pizza dinner with the boys. 

“I’m going to go JJ, thanks for talking me out of my head. If I took Morgan’s advice, I’d probably end up with a restraining order,” Spencer jokes, putting his jacket on and saying goodbye to his friend. 

“You think you need an Uber?” JJ asks, but immediately finds amusement from Spencer’s disgust at the idea of getting into an Uber. 

“Germs and technology sound like a nightmare, JJ. And I’m not going to remind you of the statistics regarding missing persons and those rideshare apps-” Spencer offers, but is cut off by JJ’s pretend annoyance. 

“Remind me to send Y/N combat pay, you know maybe she is a saint for putting up with you,” JJ teases. 

He walks out into the chill of the night, recounting the advice his friends gave him. Derek and Penelope’s plan was a little outlandish, a little too much for Spencer and Y/N. JJ, who Spencer knows means well, only served to remind him of how hard it must be with him. His steps are slow and languid, but his mind anything but. 

One step, you’re probably just a charity case that Y/N decided to save. 

Two steps, why on Earth would a woman like her even look at a man like you.

Three steps, you’re so pathetic that you can’t even plan a dinner for her. She’s too good for Spencer, you’ll ruin her. 

Everyone who you love leaves you or dies, anyway.

It’s that thought, not the thought of being alone, but the thought that he deserves to be alone that sends the tears down his cheeks. 

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

Somehow, someway, Spencer made it back to his apartment. It never felt so dark, so unlike home. Maybe he just didn’t never realized that these walls aren’t home without Y/N. He really should try to get to sleep, but he’d rather fend off sleep with the endless supply of coffee than have to face a night alone in the cold bed. 

Just as Spencer makes his way to prepare a cup of coffee, he hears a distant jiggle of keys and the door knob rattle. And in comes Y/N, as fresh as the cup of coffee brewing and as beautiful as ever. 

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” Y/N tells him, dropping the bags on the floor. She moves over to him like a light breeze. All he wants is to welcome her embrace. He wants to scoop her up and carry her far away from the monsters that lie in wake. He feels an urge to be her protector, but how can be her protector when what he really wants is to be protected. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here, it’s so late,” Spencer says, praying that his voice doesn’t let go. He knows it’s futile, one look from Y/N, her palm to his cheek or even worse a chaste kiss on his forehead, Spencer would not be able to think. What is a genius without his mind? 

“I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, Spence, I just missed you too much,” Y/N says, her voice a prayer that spins around in Spencer’s brain, searching for refuge in his heart. 

“You really missed me?” Spencer asks, desperately wanting to believe her beyond belief. Y/N’s frown searches for an answer in Spencer’s distant expression. Even though they stand there with the kitchen light casting shadows touching as much skin as they can reach, Spencer is a million miles away.

“Of course I missed you, baby. And I just had to give you one of your gifts tonight. I just couldn’t wait to see your face,” Y/N says, practically bouncing as she bounds off to get the package for Spencer. 

“So this is only the first part, and stay with me, I know how much you hate technology, but I think you’ll make an excuse for this,” She tells him, handing him a heavy cube shaped package. It’s decorated in Y/N’s handwritten flowers and hearts, and a cute doodle of who Spencer can only assume is them. His girlfriend may not be artistic. But she’s the artist who paints the stars in Spencer’s night sky. She’s the tailor who sewed him back up when he was broken. She’s the architect who has the key and blueprint to his heart. 

Spencer opens the gift, his hands shaky and unsure. He’s terrified that Y/N can see right though him. He reveals the present. It’s a small wooden box with a red wooden heart that looks like it’s supposed to be pixelated. There’s a blank space on the top, that Spencer supposes is a screen.

“You gotta plug it in, Spence. So the messages can pop up. When you're far away from me saving the world, I can type a message from my phone and it’ll appear on your box,” she explains. Spencer looks up at her trying to search for what he did to get this lucky. 

“Thank you, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Spencer tells her, placing a kiss against her forehead. It’s the kind of kisses that tell you so much more. It’s the kind of kiss you give when you know there’s more where that one came from. It’s safe and warm and everything good about this world. 

“I gotta make sure you won’t forget me when you go traipsing all over the country. A hot genius like you only comes around so often. I’m sure you got loads of attractive people throwing themselves at you, Spence,” she says with a wink. 

“Hot genius?” Spencer repeats half dumbfounded and half joking. 

“Yup, I gotta make sure they know that you’re spoken for,” 

“I couldn’t forget you even if I tried, Y/N. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I still don’t know what I did to ever deserve you,” Spencer says, as the tears and the fears of not being good enough bubble to the surface. 

“Spencer, baby. You’re shaking. What’s the matter? Huh,” she says softly, brushing her hand over Spencer’s head in a comforting and loving gesture. 

Spencer leans into her, his head pressed into her neck. He can hear her heartbeat and he can smell her perfume. He wants to get lost in her. Get lost in the feeling of total and complete love. 

“I just wanted this to be perfect, Y/N. For you- you deserve so much more than I can give. It must be so hard dating me. I know that I’m difficult to love sometimes,” Spencer murmurs, his tears pouring down his cheeks and spilling like his darkest thoughts onto Y/N’s shirt. 

“Spencer, you make my life so much brighter. So much fuller. I know that you got a lot going on up in that mind of yours and it must be kinda scary. It must be hard always being the guy people expect answers from. But I got you, sweetheart. And I’m not letting go,” Y/N tells him the words falling from lips like a psalm and taking on a new life in Spencer’s heart. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I really wanted this to be the best anniversary. I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Spencer apologizes as he peppers light, feathery kisses along her collarbone and up to her eyes. 

“Well you’re my mess, Spencer. Let’s be honest, I’d be completely happy to spend our anniversary anywhere with you. Except maybe sports games, that sounds like torture for both of us,” Y/N laughs and Spencer can’t get over how she practically glows in the kitchen light. It could be that his mind is foggy with love, but Spencer hopes that he never grows out of this blissful feeling. 

“Well it’s a good thing we’ll have many more to make up for this one,” Spencer says, letting himself get dragged to the large fluffy sofa. 

“Oh no, Mister. The next 50 anniversaries have to try to top this one,” Y/N tells him and Spencer’s heart skips and flutters at the thought of having another 49 anniversaries with Y/N by his side. 

“I doubt that 50 will be enough, Y/N” 

“As long as you’ll allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” Y/N says, cuddling so close to Spencer that she can’t see where her limbs start and Spencer’s end. 

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” Spencer says running his spidery fingers down Y/N’s side much to her delight. 

“Ooh are you trying out some Jane Austen foreplay? Because that’s the way to make my panties drop,” Y/N says suggestively as she rubs her hand over Spencer’s chest and rests it on his neck. 

“Maybe tomorrow, I just really want to hold you close right now, Y/N.” Spencer says, sweetly kissing along her temple exciting a bout of giggles from the two of them. 

Spencer very well might be useless when it comes to love, but he was eager to learn that he’s worthy of love from his love expert. 

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.���

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc​, @annestine​, @ymzki-haruki​

Nothing For Me Taglist

@littlegasps​, @leahnicole1219​, @thebadassass, @legendarymcnuggies, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @believinghurts​, @play-morezeppelin​, @vavilip​, @coollemonsaresour​, @ximaginx​, @xx-narcissa​

Marvel Taglist

@hateinthemorning​, @mylove4life​, @badbitchyonjii, @blueposthings​

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”  

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”  

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.  

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.  

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.  

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.  

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.  

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.  

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.  

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.  

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

[onestowatch]

Mothé Explores Pain and Healing in Debut Album 'I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore' [Q&A]

Photo: Victor Grossling

Indie alternative artist Mothé, born Spencer Fort, has finally released their long-awaited debut album, I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore. The 12-track body of work explores hurt, healing, and moving toward the future, all wrapped in eclectic and engaging soundscapes that provoke a deep range of emotions.

I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore not only demonstrates Mothé's remarkable ability to create and produce music that sounds exactly how it feels, alongside collaborative producer Robert Adam Stevenson. The attention to detail to each track's intricate, evolving sounds shows meticulous care and passion that marks the beginning of something bigger ahead for the up-and-coming musician. I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore opens with indie-rock jam "Dancing On An Empty Floor" before catapulting listeners down a rabbit hole full of sonic and emotional ups and downs. 

Ones To Watch was able to talk with Mothé about their debut album, their experiences with challenging shoots, and what they hope to create in the future.

Ones To Watch: Before forming Mothé, you were a part of a project called Moth Wings. When did you begin your journey as a solo artist, and how did that lead to where you are now?

Mothé: Moth Wings was a two-piece band that I was in with my friend Luke for probably five or six years. It was a house show band. It was as DIY as they come, and we were going on tours all the time playing to 20 people, you know, that sort of touring in the minivan grind. So when I moved out to Los Angeles, I was going into these sessions, and I was writing songs that I felt were maybe a little more developed for rooms outside of the house show scene because the whole thing with Moth Wings is that we were a two-piece and we were just loud as fuck, and that was kind of the vibe. And then it was like, oh, I'm writing music that I could see on a different stage for the first time. It kind of like left me asking myself, “Is this a developmental extension of Moth Wings? What's going on?” Then at some point, the drummer told me that he didn't want to do music for a living, and once we split ways, it made a lot of sense for me to kind of just adapt the name that I'd already been using to grow everything, but say like, this is the start of a new thing. The old songs will stay up, but I'm not going to go back to them. And now I was working and writing more as a solo artist, and then it was time to maybe give myself a name that I could really take as a name. Like people can call me Mothé, they can't necessarily call me Moth Wings.

Right, so you developed this new artistic character that feels completely separate from anything you've previously done.

Yeah. She's a lot more confident than me. It's kind of this fun moment where I get to be the person I maybe don't feel confident enough to be in my daily life. I didn't have that until it was a character I could truly slip into, and it turns out it's just me. It's like I'm having more fun than I am when I'm just Spencer.

Did you realize that you were creating an album?

I love that question; nobody's ever asked me that. This was not a planned album. I did not go into it thinking I should be making an album. It started when I was making an EP, and this was going to be my second EP. I had played the EP game for a bit, and I had this one song on it that felt like an album closer. Then I started looking around, and I was like, "I have eight songs I want to put on this." I was working with Robert Stevenson and we both kind of at the same time were like, "I think this is a record." Some of these songs needed to be padded with a little more context for them to really land in the ways they're supposed to. That was when we added the last songs like "Debt Collector," "Dancing On An Empty Floor," and these more dancey songs that really push it into the album territory. I had all these more thinky songs that I was having a hard time packaging into a presentable format, and that was when it was like, "Hey, I think we're making an album." And then we decided it was an album, and then we went out to Sonic Ranch and recorded it in like six days. It was super, super intense. So yeah, no, we didn't know we were making an album, but it felt really natural and right, and kind of felt like the time to make one and interact with a longer form.

What do you feel is the story of this album?

I think the album honestly has a lot to do with this constant state of doom that we are experiencing. A lot of it was written during the pandemic. I was freaking out. The whole album was just a process of finding like, "Hey, there's impending doom, and there has been impending doom always, and it will always continue to be impending doom.” So the idea eventually became to take this light-hearted approach to the state of the world where it was like, "It's coming for you, and so what? What are you gonna do about it? You can't do anything about it."

Accept there's nothing you can do.

Yeah, so in the spirit of that, that's why it's called I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore, which is a serious statement, but it's just kind of true. It's meant to be a blanket. Like, hey, all this stuff. It's like, "Hey, all this stuff. You can't change it."

One of my favorite tracks on this album is "Leave A Little Later." I especially loved the more sound collage, abstract moments in that song and in the overall body of work. What were some of your favorite music moments from the record?

It's those moments for me too. Honestly, if I was not worried about anything and was living off the land and everything was taken care of, you know, I might fuck around and make ambient music and just never write a song ever because I love textures. I love sounds and textures so much. So "Leave A Little Later," I have to agree. It's one of my favorite songs on the record. I'm so prepared for people to not like that one and be like, "What is this???" But that song was so fun to make, and I remember the first time that we had the synths drop down past where they could go, and I was like, "This is so fun!" I also loved making "Isaac," because it was like, “How do we take these abstract sounds and package them into this digestible format.” It's such a puzzle to be like, "I like this texture; how do you make that a song?" So those moments are definitely my favorite moments on the record, as well as "Everyone Has Everything." I also like the saxophone pad in "Concrete Smile." That was something we added kind of at the end. I was getting to do these really kind of dense, noisy saxophone arrangements and use the saxophone in a way that isn't just like an ‘80s inspired saxophone solo. I got to use it like an organ, which was really exciting, and I think that's a really special moment on the album for me.

Breaking down the preconceived notions of what a sax can do!

Yeah! It's too beautiful an instrument to only be doing solos and weird cheesy songs, you know?

What sonic texture do you feel is vastly underutilized or underappreciated in ambient music or in general?

I tend to like harsher sounds lately. Specifically, I, at the moment, have been enjoying taking two oscillators and putting them against each other and just out of sync so that they are constantly fighting for the same space. It sounds like this [makes crashing sounds] distortion that's really specific, and I've been really, really enjoying that. I got a little tape machine that I've just been putting way past the peak limit so that everything comes in like [makes warped sounds] kind of vibe. I'm just having fun cause I'm in between albums right now. I can do anything, so I'm just experimenting. I've been making these harsh sounds, because it's just feeling good to be really loud. I did the beautiful ambient album. The next one, I am assuming, will just have a lot of like [makes crashing sounds]. 

What song are you most excited for people to listen to that hasn't been released yet?

I'm really excited for people to hear "Isaac." I felt like maybe, you know, there's a reason I put it so early in the record. You open with this kind of dancey song, and you're like, "This is an indie record! Whoa, cool!" And then it's like, and we're gonna go here. It's jarring, and it's maybe designed to not work. Who knows?

Only one way to find out.

Yeah, but I'm excited for people to hear that song especially. With the singles that we've put out, I think we've intentionally been reaching people who liked this one specific genre quite a bit and maybe haven't checked out a lot of ambient music. So I really like the idea of being a gateway for some people cause all the singles have been very indie rock, and it's an indie rock album, but then I'm just happy to send some curveballs in there for them. So hopefully, people are like, "What is this? Where does this come from?" and they sort of go down the rabbit hole I did whenever I got into alternative music and subgenres and just weird stuff.

Out of all of the released music videos, which one is your favorite?

I think that was pretty fun to make. I actually quite enjoyed doing "Terrified" because I enjoyed the process of shooting that, which was basically just doing a bunch of one-take contemporary dance pieces in a sort of high fashion gown. That felt very in tune with who I am. I loved shooting "Debt Collector" because it was so funny. It was so funny because my younger brother was the actor in that, and so he was shoving me in a trunk and slamming the trunk door on me or whatever, and I was like, "This is so ridiculous." We're doing a lot of this stuff, DIY and low budget, so we don't have a lot of damage control. He just has a real knife. Like he was shoving a real knife in front of my throat, and I'm like, "I trust you so much. My younger brother, please do not stab me in the neck," and so for that reason, I kind of found that one fun cause it was like my younger brother's finally kicking my ass.

What were the more challenging aspects of doing the shoots, other than almost being stabbed by your brother?

I think that shoots are just always hard. I don't envy people who do that full-time. The people who experience 12 hour days most of the time are sometimes outdoors for 12 hours, sometimes they're indoors for 12 hours, and you don't see the sun, and there are all these random hiccups. There's a part in "Terrified" that did end up getting cut. We were supposed to be doing an underwater scuba scene in a pool, but the pool was so cold that I couldn't get oxygen to my lungs and stuff. It just puts you in really bizarre situations. So I was strapped down to this brick, being held down by chains in the scene with scuba equipment floating in this giant dress and freaking out. I was like, "I'm too anxious. It's too cold to breathe. I'm so scared right now, even though I realistically have oxygen," which was incredibly challenging. I'm hesitant to say it, but I don't even know if I enjoy making music videos.

I know that you just announced that you will be joining The Wrecks on tour this summer starting in June. If you could perform anywhere tomorrow, where would you go?

Probably somewhere crazy, honestly.

Like Iceland?

Yeah! Just do the premature Antarctica show. [laughs] What I would actually do is I want to play whatever 200 cap room has the best sound in America. There's something about the super tight show where everyone's sweaty and flailing around yelling into the mic thing that I have not gotten to do in years, and I miss it so much. I want to play in punk venues. I definitely still need a moment of yelling, sweating, and being crammed into a tight room. I don't have a specific venue name for that or a good city. It's just whatever I can do to get that moment back in my life. Mothé’s I Don’t Want You To Worry Anymore is available everywhere you can stream it. 

[ladyeliot]

Stay with me

Prequel to  It will always be you.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: Because of the consequences of your actions, 117 nations come together to create the Sokovia Accords. Now a decision hangs over you, whether to sign them or not, whatever you do will have repercussions.

Warnings: Angst.

Word count: 3702

A/N: Civil War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

The evidence was clear, the position you were currently in had come about because of some very poor performance on your part, the news had echoed the catastrophes you had caused, especially the attack on Lagos, the governments had lined up to stop it and come to a common agreement to keep you under their command. Deep down you all knew that day would come, though you were confident it would be further away. It had been almost four years since Tony Stark had rescued you from your past, from being a contraption held in a laboratory for research. You had been offered a future where you no longer had to run or hide, you had been offered freedom, a purpose in life, but that bundle of paperwork in front of your eyes was meant to make you a prisoner of the government once again.

The discussion had been getting louder and louder, the different opinions countering each other were causing the nerves to come to the fore, alternating the atmosphere. Although the resolution was clear, there was nothing to be done, you were either with them or against them, becoming a fugitive wanted by the whole world. The Sokovia Accords were established by the United Nations and ratified by 117 nations, and what they proposed was to regulate the activities of the altered individuals, namely that the Avengers would cease to be a private organisation, and from now on would operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, and only when and if that panel deemed it necessary.

There was no turning back, the consequences had been placed before you for the acts you had committed, it was a one way street, not a return. Secretary Ross had been in charge of presenting you with the whole set of papers that would have to be signed by you, but convincing you all to agree was not going to be so easy. 

“So let's say we agree to this thing,” Sam said, unresponsive to the situation. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“A 117 countries want to sign this,” Rhodes reminded him.  “117, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

Unlike them, you chose to keep a few metres away from the meeting table, remain silent and meditate with yourself on the proposal, not that you didn't know the pros and cons or the consequences of not signing the agreements, but that you wanted to analyse the situation from different points of view without the others questioning your opinions.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal," Natasha said, turning her gaze to Tony.

“It's because he's already made up his mind,” Steve's tone seemed harsher than usual.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony countered sarcastically, then turned his gaze and gestured in your direction.  "She does seem to have made up her mind what her decision is."

You felt the gaze of everyone present focus on you, who unlike him preferred to be absorbed in the shadows, hiding from the attention of your companions. But in the end, perhaps his words were true and you had made a decision, a decision that you were not going to allow anyone to choose for you.

"I guess it's not as simple as you're trying to make us believe Tony," your tone was calm and affable, knowing that you were about to receive a sarcastic and ironic counterattack from him.

"Simple?" he gets up from the sofa raising his hands, walking towards the kitchen area, where you were sitting on a stool. "You think it's simple for me?" he pulls a mobile device out of his pocket and sets it down right in front of you on the top, the device projecting an image of a smiling young man. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia."

You look down, you understand perfectly what he means, you remember what happened in Sokovia, you remember because you were there, you saw with your own eyes what happened and also the consequences of your actions. But you knew that any decision had consequences and they could have been much worse if you had not acted, although there were also causes for your own fault.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose," Tony continued, looking directly at you, his tone rising and stiffening. "I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

After his last word, silence filled the room, everyone in the room was reliving the ghosts of the past. Tony definitely realising that you weren't going to look up to return his gaze decided to head back into the room with the others.

"There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes..."

You felt his voice trailing off, then Steve seemed to come in to debate various points, but you could barely focus on what each of them was saying. An internal struggle was going on inside you, and you couldn't wait to see who was going to win.

"I have to go."

You looked up after hearing those words spoken by Steve, his body rose energetically, dropping the agreements from his hand. That was the beginning of all the consequences that were to come after we had made the decision not to sign.

Your steps were decisive, you walked through those long corridors that had become your home for the last few years, knowing that you would most likely never see them again, or at least not for an indefinite period of time. You truly believed you had made a decision, a decision that could become the decision of a lifetime, a before and after in the life process you had created for yourself. You believed that you knew the consequences, that you would be willing to face them as they came. You knew there were going to be setbacks, obstacles, but you didn't expect one as big as him to stand in your way.

"So you've made your decision?" the figure of Tony stood in the doorway of your room, a serious look on his face seeming to immobilise you. "Are you going to leave with Steve?

"I think it's for the best," your words were blunt, as you packed your most essential belongings into a rucksack.

His body entered your room just before the door closed behind him. You knew Tony well enough to know that his next words to you were likely to make an impression on you, but your mind was made up.

"Did you hear anything I just said in the living room?" he pursed his lips and ran his fingers nervously over them.

"Don't make this difficult for me," those words left your lips almost as a plea.

You barely looked at him, your back was turned to him and your eyes were focused on the inside of that backpack that seemed to have no end.

"I suppose you know that your decision is a single ticket," his words were firm. "That you're basically signing your own fucking sentence."

"No," you dropped the backpack and turned to him to find yourself face to face. "That's exactly what I'm running from," you sighed. "I think you of all people know that I know what it's like to be someone's property, that I've been for far too long and that's what really scares me," your pupils dilated as you remembered every single moment you'd lived hidden from the world, being an experiment. "I don't need guys in ties fighting for their own interests telling me what to do or where to go, because my freedom ends when they command me," the seriousness on Tony's face had relaxed, he kept his gaze on his feet and nodded. "I want you to know that I'm going with Steve because you had already made your decision."

The tension spread slightly around you, so much was hidden in those words, much more than what was shown. The complexity of the situation went far beyond signing or not signing the agreements, it was the break-up of a group, of friends, of family, something that could never be put back together again.

"I... I don't know if I'm going to be able to protect you," Tony clenched his jaw as he denied to himself, resting his brown eyes on yours again.

"I never asked you to."

You knew perfectly well how much your words must have hurt him, and what he meant when he said he couldn't protect you. There were so many hidden things in the air, but this was not the right time to start that conversation, maybe it was too late, nothing was going to change things so you asked yourself to please not make things more complicated. You turned around and nimbly zipped up your backpack, everything you had of great sentimental value was inside.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hanging the backpack over your right shoulder and looking up at him.

"You're not sorry," his tone became serious, but at the same time indifferent, he was hurt. His gaze turned away from yours.

"This isn't what I wanted to happen," you whispered hoping that wasn't the last image you would see of him before you left.

"So, all you have to do was stay," those were the words that almost caused something inside you to stir, but you only gave a small, wistful smile as you looked at his face.

"You know I can't," you whispered hoping he wouldn't extract his share of indifference towards you again. "Please don't make it more complicated for me, because I can't deal with you right now.”

It was impossible to explain to you at that moment the dilemma that was building up inside you. On the one hand your ethics and your values were what prevented you from signing those damn papers that limited and curtailed your freedoms, it was something you assumed. On the other hand, how could it be so hard to leave Tony, why, what was going on right now that you couldn't face?

"Maybe you should just leave now," Tony slipped his hands into his Tom Ford trouser pockets and focused his gaze on the door to your room.

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowed and your lips parted as you didn't expect those words at all, you were ready to start an internal struggle, but he had already sentenced the conversation.

"Alright," you muttered, taking a step backwards, away from him. "Bye Tony."

As you got closer to that door a lump settled tighter in your throat, like a dramatic movie you expected him to say something to stop you at any moment, but he didn't. The door opened and allowed you to leave. The corridors seemed miles long, perhaps because time was slowing down. A black car could be seen from the wide glass windows, there were Steve and Sam waiting for you. A guilty smile appeared on your face as you walked back through the hall, bidding farewell to those present.

As you stepped outside, the air seemed to open up your lungs again, which had been stuck after the last goodbye you had said to Tony. Sam was inside the car, and Steve took care of getting your rucksack into the boot, along with his shield and Sam's wings.

"Are you all right?" muttered Steve, to which your response was a gentle nod.

As you rested your hand on the handle to open the car door, you couldn't help but direct your gaze towards the top of the building, right where you had left Tony a few minutes ago. But there was definitely no sign coming from that spot to stop you from continuing on your way.

The next few days the situation became more complex than anyone here would have expected. Agent Carter's funeral passed without incident, Natasha appeared to inform you that she was leaving for Vienna to sign the agreements, that there was still a chance for you to change your minds, but none of you did. Perhaps it was for the best, because during the signing an attack happened on the spot, an attack that changed the course of things. All eyes were on the Winter Soldier, Bucky, that directed Steve, Sam and you to Bucharest in a supposed attempt to get to Bucky before the authorities did.

"They're on the roof," Sam reported over the intercom.

"Steve get out of there right now," you said hiding on the roof of the building next door. "I can sense you but I can't surround your body with psychic energy unless you come out into the open."

That day was one of the worst failures you had ever managed to pull off, perhaps it was obvious that things didn't go quite right when feelings ran high, and it showed in Steve, especially when law enforcement trapped you in that tunnel.

"Stand down, now," War machine appeared before you to end the fatal chase and set you on your way to Berlin.

You knew what would follow, there was only one way out or the consequences would be far more extreme, either sign the agreements or become prisoners of the law. Things were different for you, Captain could have his shield removed, Sam could have his wings removed and T'Challa, who had appeared in pursuit out of nowhere could have his suit removed too, but you and Bucky were far more dangerous, especially as your powers and dangers were in the mind.

When you arrived at the facility in that armoured truck Bucky was put in an extreme protection capsule, that marked memory making you remember the past time.

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Steve walking beside you in the direction of Everett Ross, Deputy Commander of the Joint Forces.

"The same as you. Psychological evaluation and extradition," he focused his gaze on you.  "Miss Y/L/N, let's hope you'll be cooperative."

You understood his words, you knew the fear you could cause, force could be controlled, the mind was much more complicated.

"Of course," you affirmed with all your good intentions.

You didn't know where, but you assumed that in a few minutes you were going to meet him again in some remote part of that building, you could feel it. First it was Natasha who approached you, and then when you stepped inside the control room there was Tony, talking on the phone.

"[...] consequences?" he turned his body towards you, his gaze fixed on you, which made you cross your arms and look around, avoiding her. "Of course there will be consequences."

"Consequences?" asked Steve with a serious look on his face.

"Secretary Ross wants to prosecute the three of you. I had to give something."

You walked away from them, realising that you had two armed men following your every step around that room. You watched the monitors, every corner of the planet seemed to be controlled by them, there was nothing they could miss, you could even see yourself reflected in one of them.

"Is it worth it?" you turned your face to find yourself face to face with the one who had made you doubt your decision a few days ago.

He took his right hand out of one of his trouser pockets and made a slight gesture for the two security officers who had been assigned to you to move a little away from you, offering you some privacy.

"What do you mean?" you cocked your head to one side. Your voice was stiff, you were tense enough about the situation to offer him a friendly tone.

"I don't know, was it worth risking everything to find yourself back here with possible legal charges?" you didn't deny it, Tony's words hurt.

"Are you rejoicing?" you squinted, uncrossing your arms and turning your whole body towards him.

"How do you think this will all end?" he ran his index finger down the side of his mouth, his nervousness showing. Those words made you shudder. "Now you have a chance, don't let it slip away."

"Please, don't make this worse than it already is," your pleas were in vain. The last thing you wanted right now was a lecture from Tony.

"This wouldn't even abe problem, if you wouldn't make one out of it!" his voice was authoritative.

Your refusals and hesitations had gotten on his nerves, it was evident in the way he was addressing you. That was the last thing you wanted to do, to cause trouble, but it was clear that you were on the defensive against any verbal attack Tony might offer you. Sparks could almost fly between your gazes, which were still on after the conversation was over. You had no idea what was going to happen next, so you were grateful that Natasha caught Tony's attention at that moment, breaking into a battle that wasn't going anywhere.

The hours passed really slowly, so you found a space in a glassed-in conference room to settle in, under, of course, the watchful eye of the guards in charge of you, until you were called in for your psychological analysis.

"Do you need anything?" the door closed behind him.

"Are you playing good cop?" you asked watching as he dropped his blazer on a chair and sat down right next to you. "You're not giving up, are you?"

"I'll take every last cartridge," he leaned his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand. "You know, I was just remembering earlier when we all went to that Italian restaurant in Soho on your birthday, and then we were at the concert by.... Oh, what was the name of the band? "

"What are you trying Tony?" you cocked your head to the side with a small smile on your face.

"I'm trying to... how do you say?" he rested his index finger on your lips. "Signing a peace agreement? Trying to get to your sensitive spot, because you have one, right?"

"I don't know, I guess if you have one I might as well, huh?" you arched an eyebrow, intertwining your fingers on the table, causing him to make a gesture of placing his hands on yours, but he never got to touch them by restraining himself, so you ignored the gesture.  "Do you want to sign a peace agreement with me, or do you want me to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

He took a breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils. He was completely frustrated, you knew it, you could feel it, he had rarely been involved in those situations that were out of his control.

"Listen," he paused slightly, bringing his fingers to his chin. "I think it's time that I..." he tore his gaze away from yours, let it wander, searching for his words as he gestured with his right hand. "I've tried many times, to do this but.... God, this really is the worst time to do it." He looked around nervously and then crossed his arms, but quickly pulled them apart. "Whatever. We're... well, I... it's likely that I, maybe, can feel..."

You would remember that moment all your life, especially since you wouldn't know until many years later what he meant to say to you. At that moment the lights went out, the monitors stopped working and everything was dark around you, only red flickering lights would have made their way into your darkness. Your head swivelled around you in search of whatever it was that was going on, Tony got up from his seat and placed his glasses over his eyes.

"Friday, give me the source of the blackout," he said to himself.

Finally your eyes focused on Steve and Sam, who were standing next to Sharon in the next room. You listened as Sharon informed them of Bucky's location, and a last glance towards you informed you that they were going to head that way, but just as you were about to leave that meeting room a hand came down hard around your arm.

"Stay with me," the trembling words that came from his lips seemed to shake your insides.

"I can't," you mumbled through your teeth almost with all the pain in your heart.

His fingers loosened, allowing you to leave the room as quickly as possible, but you took one last second to contemplate his face and how many feelings were hidden in it. You knew you only had one chance, everyone present was distracted enough to find the reason for the blackout, you had only a few seconds to get out of the room without being seen, and a couple of minutes before they noticed, so you didn't take long to do it.

A new decision piled up on your list, always facing the consequences you had acquired, and fighting against the feelings your heart presented to you. It wasn't easy, you hadn't given it much thought either, but what you did know was that you didn't regret having done it, at least so far.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST