#maybe I’ll find a song fic with one of her songs tho | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

Text

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin impact Childe #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #sojourner special #female reader #Harbinger #brrrrt

294 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 3 years ago

Note

when they mention abt childe's wedding towards the bride herself i was like "ooff i felt that" THE GOOSEBUMPS

(i decided to go ahead and consolidate my responses to the snowstorm so i won't clog up your guys' feed!!)

that was one of the moments i looked forward to writing the most ngl. just the sheer audacity childe has to inconvenience other, well-meaning folk with his nonsense. he's so annoying GEH!!!!

Anon 2 said: OMG THAT CHILDE FIC! What an asshole.. srsly killing innocent ppl. I always do wonder what super evil punishments the yandere has in store for them. Also- I have noticed this throughout but your stories always have a lot of 'screentime' for the yanderes & while I love that I think it's totally okay to not have them show up as much! All that time without Childe was really building up the tension, anxiety and unforeseen horror :3 you really nailed that but uggghh how did Childe find ussss

that's a relief to hear!! i wanted to try and see if i could keep a story engaging without the yandere constantly being present, so that was the challenge i gave myself. i think that childe was able to find darling for a few reasons. the first and foremost was that he lied about when he'd be home and was fresh on the trail not too long after darling escaped (maybe an hour or two?). second, is he's way more familiar with the territory than darling is, that was a fact he could use to his advantage. all that added up to him finding darling.

Anon 3 said: That childe fic was amazing !! I loved the reader so so much ! Do you think you’ll write anymore with them 👉👈 (Sorry if that’s pressuring, it’s not intentional)Also perhaps share the playlist 👉👈 if you’re comfortable ofc

thank you very much anon!!!! and hm,, i’m not sure if i’ll write more for that particular universe, although i do want to try writing more ruthless darlings. so it’s likely you’ll see more of that in the near future. as for the mini playlist, i can give you the songs on it!

one / two / three / four / five

the first song gave inspiration for the fics namesake!

Anon 4 said: It's always such a joy when you write Childe. Love your work and keep it up <33333

trust me, i absolutely adore writing for childe! he’s my favorite for a reason. his unhinged nature lends perfectly to the yandere trope. man is already bloodthirsty, he’s just looking for an excuse. thank you very much!!!

Anon 5 said: CHILDE FOOD THANK YOU!!!!!🍽 it was so good and nerve-wracking omg

i wanted to make it as nerve-wracking as possible,, there’s just something about running away in the snowy woods at night that feels ominous. smh childe... why couldn’t you have picked a tropical place instead? thank you so much for the feedback!!

Anon 6 said: AAAAAAAAAA THE SNOWSTORM FIC SISBZISNSJSMSOJ BEAUTIFUL MUAH MUAH

Many hugs and kisses to you!! \(⁎˃ᆺ˂)/

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I APPRECIATE IT A LOT <3

Anon 7 said: THE CHILDE PIECE IS A MASTERPIECE

i’m so glad to hear you think so hrjtkmgerl i was working on it for a few days at full steam. i remember getting to around the 3k word mark and going uh. hm. is this any good actually ? so seeing the positive reception i feel extra grateful!!

Anon 8 said: as always your works leave me in awe, I really love how you write, Snowstorm was beautiful. 🥺🥺

thank you very much!!!!! i’m glad that i decided to make it a longer fic, it’s been a while since i’ve done one of those for genshin.

Anon 9 said: me, watching reader get insulted by the dress lady:��（‵□′）╯

reader: *kills her w/ a broach*

me: o_O

seriously tho i gasped?? bc whoa!! that was so good props to u asfsdfsd..u rlly kept the tension going and gave me whiplash so many times (in a good way!)

LMOIGER i was wondering if anyone would see it coming?? the start of the story is what i based the rest of the fic on... i just wanted to write for a darling who was willing to do literally anything to escape. i kept google pictures of pins and going could darling kill someone with this? then just decided whatever, you can do anything you put your mind to, probably. goodbye alina. that’s when everything started going haywire...

#sweet asks #answered #Anonymous

47 notes · View notes

kpophubb · 2 years ago

Note

Hi baby 💌

First of all how’s your day going on ? Is it morning when you are reading my message ? I have 15 min before my class and I really really want to talk to you 🥹

I love your dream tbh hah , pity Guy ruined it hah but that’s so interesting, both of them are your faves ^^ cute cute ; my bias in txt is Soobin , there was a time when I was such a simp for his cute side , I was such a soft stan before , but now it’s him and Guy 😄😃 I remember I was talking to somebody and they were like oh we are having like dreams with our biases like almost every single day😆😄 and I was like what do you do like for that?😂 I want that as well lol

How is your niece? are you an auntie already ? Tell me everything 🥰🥰🥰🥰

How did you like AESPA song ?^^ tbh I like them more than ITZY 😄😄, I watched their last MV and for me it’s so inspiring and motivating ☺️☺️

I haven’t seen Hyunjin x Sunghoon fic , but I’ll make sure I’ll check it ~

This week besides my job I have started a training/ study , and I’ll have an exam every single week , being feeling bad physically… hope I can get back on track 🥺🤧

Also I’m feeling a little bit sad … I really like and want to talk to you , but I was an anon to someone before and when they grew on followers I haven’t felt welcomed anymore … and I’m afraid of being in such situation again , afraid to annoy someone , to grow attachment and trust and later on being ghosted 👻.. that still hurts even tho I’m not talking to that person anymore for a month or interacting with them .. such a pity 😞😔

Also a little secret .. 🤧🙈 I was having a crush on someone and I tried to talk to this guy , but when he find out I’m from Ukraine 🇺🇦 (u know , I don’t know if you have heard of anything that is going on in my country, but I had to leave and basically homeless , .. ) and he was cool before he asked when am I from and when I have told him , his behaviour just changed (( gosh it hurts so much I never asked a guy out before or was so friendly and prob it was obvi I like him .. but I just don’t know how to stop thinking about it, and why he did that 😔

Also I don’t have a song recommendation this time , my zoom meeting has just started and I have to go 🤧

HAVE A NICE AND LOVELY DAY ~~ I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you ❤️💌

~ 🐁:)))

First of all hi anonie 🥹💖 I’ve been waiting to hear from you and been rooting for you. IDK WHEN U SENT THIS I checked my notifs everyday but it’s been so crowded and when I individually looked into inbox section, I found this?! IM SORRY IF IM LATE💓😭 yes yes! I’m finally an aunt hehe! I’m currently always surrounded by family members and my other brother came from abroad to visit us on the ocassion so I’m spending so much time with family. I got the offer letter from the place I wanna study medicine 🥹 (so glad) and I also ordered 7 NEW BOOKS?! I’m so excited for them hehe~ aespa was really cool, it was a really fun song. Tbh I’m not that much into girls group when it comes to Asian female artists idk I’m just very much into American artists over them? Teheh personal preference, my favourite artist is Bebe Rexha 🫶🏻 her songs have comforted me sm and she’s so amazing. You’ve heard of her maybe cause soobin is like her biggest fanboy omg.

And oh my god, I’m so sorry you ever felt like that from someone. I’m not sure if that someone did it intentionally but one thing you can be sure of is that I’ll never make you feel abandoned. We all have busy lives outside kpop and that’s why maybe my replies come late sometimes :(( but I’ll whole heartedly welcome you my love. I told u before, it’s your safe space. 💗 follower count or likes and notes really don’t affect my pride or alter my behaviour. Honestly, it means so much to me when I receive any interaction but I’d never make even a single person here feel less important. One of the things I’ve done the most here is comfort people, even about their personal lives which has nth to do with fangirling. So you can always reach out to me my love, as an anon (if you feel more comfortable by sharing about your life as a stranger) or personally dm me whenever you feel like. ❣️ I’m here for you no matter what, okay? 💘 kindness and empathy are so important to me and I’ll never stop reaching out to help or comfort people. That’s who I am and that will never change! 👊 and about the exam stress I totally relate to how you feel. Since 2022 started I had to take a series of exams, mocks, preparations from jan till May and I suffered from a lot of failure and academic depression and it was so frustrating and spirit breaking. Hang in there MY BRAVE GIRL! IT WILL BE OVER BEFORE U KNOW IT. JUST GIVE YOUR BEST!

And talk about being narrow minded. Tch. I literally despise people who judge people based on ethnicity, religion or moral values. Tbh, your religion, culture, colour, nationality has nothing to do with how people view you or respect you. Respect should come from humanity. We are all human beings with a human heart that’s able to feel emotions the same way. Trust me, he didn’t deserve your affection. YOU SHOULD NEVER BELITTLE YOURSELF FOR STH THAT’S A PART OF YOU.‼️ never think it’s sth that holds you back or makes you look less appealing or special. You will always be enough for the right person.🧡 the right person will always cherish you and make you feel BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF than you already feel. He will accept you for everything you are- including your flaws and mistakes and make you feel beautiful nonetheless!💯 I know it’s difficult to forget about such a hurtful and unexpected incident but everytime he crosses your mind, just kick him out and remember that YOU SHOULD NEVER LET A PERSON WHO MAKES YOU FEEL LESS VALID CONSUME YOUR MIND. Believe me, there are so many people out there who will love you for all that you are and all that you can be. The best people always bring out the best in you. ❤️ lastly I love you so so much and I might be a little late in posting your bday fic 🥲 bc yk why but I’ll definitely post you a very warm wish because you’re so loved here, my beautiful lady!💗😘 as for everything happening in ukraine I KNOW, I’ve been helping out in a few donations and been praying for them a lot. Please stay strong. I can’t even imagine how much heart break and struggle you went through. I’m glad you made it through and are still dealing with so much. It must be so tough. I understand you and I support you whole heartedly. Being homeless doesn’t make you a less valid person. Bad things happen to everyone and YOU ARE TRYING TO SURVIVE AND REBUILD LIFE, that’s something that NEEDS TO BE APPRECIATED AND APPLAUDED FOR!

#🐁 anonie #mia’s asks #❤️💘🧡💗#my fav msgs 🥹��#the blue haired jisung heart pic oh pls😭#blue jisungie my fav #ah made my day!

2 notes · View notes

captain-aralias · 3 years ago

Photo

Fic’s finished - here’s some trivia!

Includes:

References to 90s RomComs

Writerly ephemera

Baz’s wardrobe / Simon’s wardrobe

A deleted scene

90s RomComs

In the prompt, Liz mentioned Four Weddings and a Funeral and My Best Friend’s Wedding. (And The Proposal, which honestly I’ve never seen, even though now I’m thinking I should.) I didn’t really go with the vibes because I wanted to do a break up, but I put at least one reference to these films in every chapter. For fun.

He was the love of my life. My North, my South, my East and West. (Chapter 1)

It also, horrifyingly, sounds a lot like that awful song Daphne made us listen to earlier. I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing. (Chapter 2)

The whole ‘forgot the rings’ thing is reference enough

I like him dressed for weddings. (Chapter 3)

He crosses his arms. Pretends to be unmoved, even when half the bar joins in (I tipped Shepard off) (he thought the plan was brilliant) even the lobsters. They’re waving their claws in the air. (Chapter 4 - the only reference to My Best Friend’s Wedding)

“The boy’s a liar,” someone barks from behind me. “Tyrannus Pitch has been dead sixty years and good riddance.” (Chapter 5)

“Simon,” I say. “I do.” (Chapter 5)

Writerly Ephemera

Amy had this lovely idea a few months ago: Find bits of yourself that you gave to your fiction (memories and places and phrases and things into our stories).

Usually, there’s hardly any of my life in my fic, but I stole a few bits and pieces for this fic:

My father got re-married when I was at university. I like his wife, but I barely knew her then - I just knew, she’s the woman my dad left my mum for! He asked me to choose a reading and I had literally no idea what to pick. Retrospectively, I should have said no, you choose, but anyway. I chose a bit of Jeeves & Wooster where Bertie talks about wanting to get married for some reason - both my aunts loved it, the married couple were completely bemused. No idea what I was on about.

Also, their recessional music was Whitney Houston. The theme from The Bodyguard. I’d originally written this as the Spice Girls, since Daphne would have grown up in the 90s, but then I thought of the end of Chapter 2 joke, and I was like - going to troll my father from this gay fanfiction, I guess.

It was really hot when I was writing Chapter 3. That’s why it’s very hot in this chapter.

Simon and Baz choose not to get married at the end of this fic - not yet anyway. In part, because I didn’t want to re-do Golden Years, in part because that’s the end of Four Weddings, and in part because I feel a bit like I’ve written Baz in this fic. I thought I liked weddings, until I thought about it properly ... (N.B. I think actual Baz totally wants to marry Simon, btw, and Simon longs for an official family. But I had to get to my ending, so here we are.)

Baz’s wardrobe

You can still buy a very similar McQueen blazer if you like. Which I like even more. It’s completely not my vibe - unlike the Harry Styles Gucci below, which definitely is – and it’s a thousand pounds, but several times during this fic, I thought... I mean, maybe?

There’s no reference for the burgundy suit - I just wanted it.

Simon’s wardrobe

He’s wearing the Leaver’s Ball outfit at Jamie & Beth’s wedding, followed by a suit that has no reference, but is based - in my mind - on one from RooBadley’s Use Your Words

I consulted Roo about Simon’s wardrobe for this fic - for one summer wedding, one winter wedding. They gave me these:

I really liked this second suit for Simon - so much that when I remembered Simon was the best man in Chapter 5 and should probably be wearing some sort of matching outfit with Shepard, I was like... to hell with it. He’s wearing this!!!

I switched the green for undyed linen. Roo and I also had this conversation, which I wanted to use in the fic but never managed to fit in.

aralias i'm just reading in the gentleman's gazette that it's actually OK for linen to be creased

RooBadley

I would very much love for this to be a fact that Lady Ruth reassures Simon with and Simon then repeats to Baz his one bit of fashion knowledge

aralias "the really pronounced characteristic wrinkles of linen are a sign of a sophisticated casual style, actually, Baz"

RooBadley Baz: Shall I spell those wrinkles out for you, Snow? Simon: Actually, creasing is fine and acceptable when wearing linen, Baz. Though'd you'd have known that. ~smirk~

aralias i like the way this dude has rolled up the trousers too - it's not a safari, it's hipster

Deleted scene:

After the success (I think) of the end of chapter 1, I started to think ‘maybe every chapter will end with some texting!!!’

I started writing this conversation for the end of chapter 2 before I’d finished it - almost unheard of - but then I decided I hated it. Very info-dumpy. I kept the homo-positive joke, as you can see, even though I’m not sure it deserves to be kept. 😂

“HOLY MORGANA. penny just told me.”

“I know. She called me as well. It’s some sort of visa thing, I think. And she thinks it will be helpful in negotiating back all the children he’s bartered away, if she can tell people she’s his wife and has a claim on them.”

“it was more romantic when penny told me about it. shepard asked me to be his best man.”

“Oh dear. Are he and Bunce going to fight over you?”

“obviously not. penny’s a woman.”

“So? I’m going to be Fiona’s Best Man. Or Man of Honour – whatever the term is.”

“yeah, but that’s different.”

“How? Choose your words carefully, Snow.”

“I mean, because fiona doesn’t have any other friends & her sister is dead (sorry). who the fuck would she pick if not you? penny asked her sister.”

“Oh. I thought you meant because I was gay. And like to wear flowers.”

“wtf. no. i’m not homophobic. i’m LITERALLY homo … positive. (is that a thing?)”

“I think you can just say gay.”

“i’m not gay, tho”

“Right. Well, this is awkward.”

“why?”

“baz? you know i don’t know what i am. and you know it doesn’t matter, because the only person I want to be with is YOU. even tho you’re a touchy bastard.”

“man of honour suits you. you should go with that.”

“Best man doesn’t suit *you* at all.”

“fuck off.”

“are you going to come to penny’s wedding?”

“Yes. Even now I know you’re helping organise it. Do you want to come to Fiona’s?”

“fuck no. she tried to kill me. unless you want me to. i’ll go if you want me to. i’ll even buy her a gift”

“I would like you to be there.”

“all right. send me the invite.”

that’s all, folks!

Four Funereal Weddings and an American Stag Do

#carry on #awtwb spoilers #my fic #my deleted scenes #my content

20 notes · View notes

palimpsessed · 3 years ago

Text

Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

25 notes · View notes

daisybeewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it.

Three leather stools were open at the bar—one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place.

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink.

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled.

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed.

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.”

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson.

“These guys? Again?”

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now.

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought.

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart.

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

“Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.”

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona.

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully.

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive.

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons.

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.”

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked.

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted.

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him.

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz.

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around.

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone.

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her.

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her.

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him.

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.”

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler.

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow.

“Problem?" He said smugly.

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here?

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here?

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before!

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We’re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it.

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes.

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm.

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed.

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers.

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door.

“Let’s go.”

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque.

Except for the criminal standing in front of them.

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms.

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy.

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up.

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips.

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed.

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained.

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed.

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.”

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark.

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand.

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back.

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed.

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand.

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

#daisy johnson x daniel sousa #dousy #timequake #dad!coulson #quakersquares #marvel fic #ashby's fics #agents of shield #aos writer #phil coulson #skye #fluff #happy ending #angst

56 notes · View notes

aclosetfan · 3 years ago

Note

ask game number 10?

(ask game) thank you so much for asking!!!!

BUBBLE BAND ♥♥♥

YESSSS YESS haha yessss someone chose 10!!!!!! So pumped for this one. For new fandom members (lmao I’m like a damn fandom historian), battle of the band fics got really popular for half a second b/c of the punks. I outlined my own where the punks are included but with a twist. No powers au, multi chap fic.

My outline is really detailed because I know I’m going to be writing this one!! It’s just too much fun, but I’m only gonna give you the jist, I don’t want to spoil too much :))) I’ve got like six pages of notes and I’m still not done mapping it all out. It’s supposed to be goofy as well as a big s/o to everyone who watched cringy amvs on youtube in the early 2000s <3

BACKGROUND:

Brick (lead guitar), Butch (bass), and Boomer (drums) are three brothers with a shitty garage band. They think they’re hot shit. They’re not hot shit (not yet). They’re good at playing their instruments but they don’t have a big following (or any good songs). On a good night, Mojo (their adopted father) indulges them and brings the crowd to a stunning total of 1.

PLOT:

One day, Boomer gets it in his head that he doesn’t want to be a punk rocker anymore. It’s dumb, he’s bored, and obviously, he is the next Picasso, so he quits the band. Brick all but disowns him as a brother. Butch is like dude I’d be cool staying in the band and Brick goes “you don’t have a choice!” Butch is like “aight, but now that Boom’s gone, can we maybe play a song I wrote?” Brick’s like, “no!” Butch is like “aight. That’s fair it’s dumb anyway. No harm, no foul bro. How are we going to get a new drummer as good as Boomer?” Brick’s like, “we’ll find someone better!” They won’t because, to give credit where credit is due, Boomer is quite a good musician.

Butch is like well this still sucks though cause we just got all those t-shirts. Like we’re broke af and they’ve got Boomer plastered on the front of them too. We can’t just replace them. Brick’s like “we’ll find someone better and someone who looks like him nbd.”

Brick and Butch don’t know any other drummers and they certainly don’t know anyone who drums and also looks like Boomer, so they make flyers~

“Annnd,” Brick chirped, grabbing the page from the printer, “done. There. Perfect. We just need to make like a thousand more of these and post them around the City.”

Butch yanked the flyer from his hand with a frown, his eyes jumping around it before he grimaced, “Man, I dunno.”

“What?”

“Must have blonde hair, blue eyes,” Butch looked up, “reads kinda neo-nazi-ish.”

Brick ripped the page from Butch with wide eyes, rereading the flyer. After a second he hissed, “Ah fuck. Fucking Boomer.”

“He ruins everything.” Butch solemnly agreed.

“Fascist can’t even be punk.” Brick huffed, glaring at the flyer.

Together they sat back in their chairs and regarded the flyer before turning their attention back to his cracked computer screen. After a few moments of hmm’ing and haa’ing, Brick snapped his fingers and leaned over his keyboard. He made the font big, bold, and red so it couldn’t be ignored at the bottom of the flyer:

‘CAN’T BE A FKING SKINHEAD’

“Dude,” Butch nodded, reading over his shoulder, “it’s beautiful.”

And then the boys post the flyers everywhere. Including their school, where most people ignore them regularly. Their flyers however become popular scratch paper for the art department where one Ms. Bubbles Utonium stumbles upon them. She takes it as a sign. She’s a bit of a drum hobbyist, but her dad has had enough of the racket and she needs to find a new place to play. She’s not practiced or anything, but she fits the four requirements to a “T”. She has blonde hair. She has blue eyes. She can play the drums. And she isn’t a skinhead! She thinks it’s silly they even had to clarify that. She’s not too into punk music but even she knows fascists can’t be punk! So on the day of auditions, she shows up with her drum sticks and gets in line!!

Brick and Butch are floored when Bubbles Utonium comes strutting in. They only know her because she’s a popular cheerleader at their school and shares an art class with Boomer, who only ever complains about the perky upbeat girl. Their first thought is to laugh, but when she starts playing, they’re like “oh?” She’s inexperienced, but she’s got a knack for it, and (as Butch points out) she is not a skinhead. Since she’s the best they’ve seen all day they offer her the position on the condition that she dresses like a dude when they play because of their t-shirt dilemma. She tells them that’s no problem, she likes playing dress-up, but they’ve got to work band practice around her cheer schedule. They agree.

The RowdyRuffs are a band once more.

Boomer btws is NOT AT ALL jealous. Not at ALL. Nope. (he totally is and he’s very obvious about it). In one of the early band practices that he barges in on to “check out the new drummer,” he’s ten shades of betrayed when he sees Bubbles of all people in his seat. He does not like Bubbles. Bubbles thinks Boomer is the bees-knees. He doesn’t like her because she’s good at just about everything he wants to be good at—except for drumming, which he proves then and there and is like “your new drummer sucks, later losers, you wish you still had me, by the way, dad wanted me to tell you he’s making tacos and they’ll be ready in ten.” Bubbles is not deterred by his behavior, thinks how he plays is really cool, and wants him to teach her, which he continuously refuses to do, but that doesn’t stop her from pestering him. (eventually, he does tho just a fyi; Bubbles is hard to resist)

Jumping forward in time, Princess becomes involved as their PR manager and decided that Bubbles shouldn’t act as Boomer anymore. They need “horny old man money” and everyone’s like ooooh yeah, horny old man money, neat! So, in all her genius, Princess decides to make Bubbles “Brat.” And boom! Here’s our first powerpunk girl.

It’s a hit with the crowd that the band is slowly starting to amass. After accidentally hearing Butch goof around on his bass, Buttercup ((((Bubbles’ sister, who at the beginning of the story takes pity on Butch and Brick and volunteers to help teach her sister how to be “punk rock”. She is also forced to drive Bubbles to and from band practice (because Buttercup is being punished for failing math)))) encourages him to pitch his songwriting to the rest of the band. He refuses. Brick’s the guy who writes the songs, who’s very bad at it.

However, after another shitty song about some mystery girl Brick swears he doesn’t have a crush on, Bubbles has enough and assigns the boys some songwriting homework. Butch writes a banger and their little band gets more recognition. They’re now playing sizeable gigs, but wait! OH NO! Bubbles and Butch aren’t going to make it to the show on time. Boomer’s like, “shit Brick! The show must go on, dude, but where are you going to find two people who know how to play the exact same instruments as Butch/Bubs, know all their cues, and all the songs in the next ten minutes????” Brick looks at Buttercup (plays bass like Butch/almost at all the band practices/has a lovely voice despite what she says) and Boomer (who was Bubbles before Bubbles) and goes “huh, genius, I wonder.” Buttercup’s like “oh no, wait wait! I’ve got stage freight!” To which Brick says, “get over yourself and join my shitty fucking band!”

And that’s how we get our Brute <3 (named by Brick). She’s a hit!

They just keep getting bigger and bigger as a band, and record labels are starting to take an interest, so after Brute debuts, everyone’s like welp, Brick needs his counterpart too. And it’s eventually Blossom, but that comes about in a roundabout way because Brick’s feelings are still hurt (she’s the girl he was crushing on, but she rejects him). Eventually, Bubs is like “listen, Brick, we need a Berserk (Butch name’s this imaginary person), and it's coming down to the wire. Blossom can do it. I know she can. It’s for the band.” So, he sucks it up and Blossom hesitantly accepts (she’s very much preppy pop to whatever Berserk is lol so it’s difficult for her at first). After a heart-to-heart with Brick, they make amends (I think I’ll leave it platonic for now tbh) and their first show altogether is a hit!

As always, there’s a happy ending :) They get their record deal lol.

I can’t write songs. I’m shit at poetry, but I was thinking about just choosing irl music and mashing them up, so the music is still “original” but people can also be like omg I remember that horrible song from my emo “phase.” I have to find a good song list first. If anyone’s still reading send me some recs. The music I like is too embarrassing.

#my writing #my outlines #outline ask game #BUBBLE BAND #this one just makes me smile because I get to listen to all my music from middle school #don't get me wrong middle school was shit #but the music was top notch #ppg fic outline

13 notes · View notes

spencerspecifics · 4 years ago

Note

What about a moried fluffy fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

You have no clue how much I absolutely love this song prompt thank u anon moreid is my shit here we go. (It is fluffy but it’s angsty in the beginning so yeah stay for the fluff thanks.) And I’m so sorry this took so long to get up! I took some time off from writing bc of lots of factors.

Lowkey TW?? Slight homophobia Bc Derek’s gf thinks he’s “too gay” even tho he’s just bi Also, song lyrics are in bold lettering. They’re going to be part the story here and there to help plot and whatnot so yeah!

———————————————————————

You Belong With Me

———————————————————————

Spencer had a problem. Namely a person problem. A Derek Morgan problem. Spencer didn’t hate Derek, quite the opposite, actually. Spencer was crushing hard on the man. And he couldn’t do anything. Spencer would rather lose his right hand then tell Derek how he felt about him, he couldn’t risk their friendship over his stupid little crush.

But just because he hid his feelings, ignored them through hell and high water- it didn’t mean they weren’t real, or weren’t there. They were both very real and apparent. Every time Derek called him ‘pretty boy’ or ‘genius’ or ‘handsome’, every time Derek wrapped his arm around him casually or did small things to showed him he cared, caused Spencer to blush and go speechless. Spencer was smart, but how to react to someone you’re infatuated with giving you attention, he’d never be able to solve that.

Time and time again, though, he found himself in situations where it was just him and Derek- and everything in his brain and body would scream at him to tell him how much he liked him, tell him how they should be together. It just made sense, after all.

Long paragraph short, here are the four times Spencer felt like they belonged together, and the one time Derek realized they do belong together.

“...You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset. She’s goin’ off about something that you said, ‘cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do...”

Spencer hung out with Derek a lot, it was just by default. He wasn’t a social individual, but he pack bonded with the team. Spencer saw everyone there as his friends, so yeah, he hung out with Derek. They would go do things together, grab lunch, get coffee, meet up to go shopping. Painfully mundane tasks that were so domestic it could cause spencer another migraine if he thought about it for long enough.

It was on one of these mundane days when problems slowly arose. They were in the mall, sat in the food court. Spencer was looking over a new book he had just bought, it was a thick book on physics, it would probably take him a day or two at most to read it, his tray of food in front of him was still mostly untouched.

Unlike Spencer, Derek was eating. Though it was greasy mall pizza, it was still food. Derek decided he’d run a few extra miles to work it off as some sort of consequence for his action.

They sat in silence, Spencer already flipping through pages quickly, mouthing the words he was reading over to himself; and Derek chewing silently as he watched the genius in front of him.

That was, until, Derek’s phone rang. Breaking the ambiance that had surrounded the two. Spencer didn’t look up, he was too invested in the book in front of him. Derek reacted, though, wiping his hands off on a napkin before grabbing his cell phone out of his back pocket. He looked over the caller ID, it was Melissa.

Melissa was his newest fling, Spencer had heard bits and pieces of Garcia and Derek’s conversation surrounding the topic, but he knew the bare minimum- deciding best to not involve himself with how his crushes romantic life was soaring- meanwhile his was crashing.

Spencer didn’t know it was Melissa though, not until Derek pulled the phone up to his ear and said; “Hey, Melissa!”

If anyone on their team was with them and watching Spencer, they would have noticed the way his eyes looked off the book for a moment, up at Derek, before immediately turning back down; to reread the same page he didn’t need to reread because he could just go back into his memory to figure out what the words on the paper meant to say. But he had to reread the page. The strongest memory in the whole universe couldn’t tell him what was on the page in front of him, he was distracted.

Melissa on the other line started speaking. Derek listened before responding; “Oh, not much, Y’know- just at the mall with the doc.”

Spencer kept himself staring down at the book in front of him, even though he could feel the blush rising up to his ears. It was stupid that made him blush like a schoolgirl. But he couldn’t help it. So instead, he hid in the pages about quantum mechanics. Something real, something not confusing. Something that was pure and basic and understanding.

“No-“ Derek chuckled, “No, pretty boy ain’t that type of doctor,” god, this was going to be the death of Spencer. Pretty boy always was something that made him melt. He couldn’t help it, god knows he tried. He did all the distraction techniques he could find. None of them really worked.

Spencer opted to hide in his book more, act like he wasn’t listening to Derek. Even though he was. He was always hooked on every last word the man spoke, it always mattered. This was just a hopeless effort, Spencer realized, as he sunk down in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Now, what on earth are you- hey, baby- beautiful, what are you-“ Derek started, sounding concerned.

Spencer couldn’t help it at this point, he looked up over the top of the book. Derek was looking at his phone in bewilderment. It was no longer up to his ear.

“...Everything okay?” Spencer asked curiously after a moment. Derek just sighed setting his phone down on the table next to his food tray. “I don’t even know, man. I called you pretty boy and that made Melissa flip- she was all like ‘who’s pretty boy? We discussed you being bisexual already, you better not be changing up on me’. Then she hung up.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Spencer replied, book still up between him and Morgan. “Yeah, I’m confused. It was a joke.” Derek explained to Reid, as if Spencer was ever owed an explanation regarding this.

“She must be insecure.” Spencer theorized plain and simple. Derek watched him curiously instead of asking anything to lead him on, “If she gets the idea that we’re a thing- just based on a nickname, then she’s gonna hate you and Garcia. You don’t need someone like that.”

Derek sighed, “You’re right. But I really thought she was great.” “Maybe she is,” Spencer shrugged, “I don’t know her. You do. All I’m saying is, she won’t like you and Garcia if she didn’t like my nickname.”

That elicited a chuckle from Derek, a sound Spencer always cherished in hearing. “Yeah, I can’t have someone hating my favorite boy wonder,” once again, Spencer could feel the blush coming onto his face. He was just hoping the lighting inside the mall food court didn’t make it all too obvious. “I’ll talk to her about it.” Derek decided. Spencer just nodded, not entirely wanting to talk right now.

“Yeah.. um, do what’s best.” Spencer agreed blandly. He wasn’t sure what else to say. And wasn’t this just laughable? Giving his crush dating advice? Spencer wasn’t stupid, but he was in this scenario.

“Yeah, I will. Anyways,” Derek continued the conversation casually, reaching out covering Spencer’s book with his hand. “What are you-“ Spencer started, confused. “Taking away your book. Eat before your food gets cold.” Derek spoke plainly, as if this was so obvious. He pulled Spencer’s book out of his grasp, setting it down next to himself; before pushing Spencer’s untouched tray of food in front of him.

“I’m not very-“ Spencer started, already trying to reach back for his book. Derek just shook his head, pulling the book closer to him. “Nuh-uh, not today. Not today. You’re eating. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Spencer sunk down in his seat a little as he finally caved, agreeing and eating the mall food. Granted, it wasn’t great, but it was food, and he did need to eat. Last thing he had eaten that day was a granola bar for breakfast, and Derek knew that he forgot to eat.

He ate in silence as Derek watched him, before moving his gaze to casually watch the other mall patrons. It was so entirely stupid and domestic of them. It was nothing special, it wasn’t even that good of a memory. But for some reason, Spencer knew that was the first time he felt something new towards Derek. More new than just his crush. It was a new, overwhelming feeling of “I wouldn’t treat you that way” “I wouldn’t care if you called someone babygirl” “I would be better for you” before finally, his mind landed on, “you belong with someone who wouldn’t judge. Someone like me. You belong with me.”

That’s when Spencer knew he was fucked, more so than before.

“...I’m in the room, it’s a typical Tuesday night. I’m listening to the type of music she doesn’t like. And she’ll never know your story like I do...”

The second time was at Spencer’s apartment. He had complained about his bookshelf not being stable enough to hold all his books, and Derek had practically invited himself over; “C’mon, Reid. It’ll be good. Get some quality time without the ladies, we can order Chinese, plus I can show you how to fix your shelf so you don’t have to ask for help next time.”

So yeah, now they had gone directly from work to Spencer’s apartment- the only pit stop being to Derek’s house to pick up his toolbox, as Spencer didn’t have one.

Spencer wished he wasn’t such a pushover, because damnit, now he was gonna be in his apartment with Derek. That didn’t seem like a problem to anyone else, obviously- because they weren’t crushing hard on the guy. So Spencer just had to stand there and hide how much he liked Derek, and how at home Derek made his apartment feel- because it felt better with him there. He belonged there.

Spencer ignored his thoughts as they got into his apartment, he led Derek over to the problematic bookshelf in question. Some of the books had toppled off the shelves, and were on the ground below. “Damn, Reid, you don’t mess around with all these books.” Derek joked lightly as he looked over the immense amount of books Spencer had shoved onto the shelf; Derek squatted down, lowering the tool kit next to him as he started taking books off the shelves one by one so he could further inspect what was wrong with it.

Spencer protested, not understanding Derek was joking, “It’s not my fault- the bookshelf is supposed to hold books, if it can’t do what’s promised then that’s on the manufacturers error.”

Derek just chuckled slowly in response before replying, still pulling books off the shelves “Don’t worry, pretty boy, we’ll get this sorted out for you, alright? Just get some music on so we got something to hang to.” Derek wasn’t looking at Spencer, thank god- or he’d see how the genius got so flustered so quickly, how quickly a blush spread across his face, and how he immediately looked away from him, to the walls, the floor. To look at anything but Derek.

“Yes- right. Music.” Spencer changed his focus, he couldn’t think about how good it felt to be called a pet name by Derek. He couldn’t let himself think about it, or else he’d never stop. So he busied himself with getting some music to play through the quiet apartment, he turned over to his old radio that was sat on his study desk, it was a loud radio, that’s why he got it. It was compact, but if he put it in the bathroom he could hear it from the kitchen. It was the perfect device for him.

Spencer turned the radio on, the channel he always listened to was already tuned in, so he left it that way. Soft instrumental music started flowing out of the speakers, Derek stopped his motion of putting books down to turn and look at Spencer semi-curiously; “What’s this music?” “Classical.” Spencer replied easily, looking down at the radio as he messed with the volume dial that always seemed to be loose. “It’s on 88.1, they play strictly instrumental and classical pieces. It’s nice.”

Derek didn’t respond, Spencer didn’t need him to respond. It was an inconsequential conversation about music. If Derek didn’t like the station, he was more than welcome to change it to another. But he didn’t, it was Spencer’s apartment, and the soft classical music playing just seemed fitting to play there. Plus Derek just wanted the music as a background sound to help him focus, it wasn’t really important what it was- just that there was music playing.

Spencer went off to the kitchen to find the menu he had saved from the local Chinese restaurant that does deliveries, meanwhile Derek continued pulling books off the shelves. Melissa would hate him for being here, ever since the call at the mall, she was convinced Derek was going to leave her for him- or for another guy. She thought he was “too gay” to stay with her, obviously that’s not how him or his bisexuality works. But Melissa didn’t see it that way.

God, everything Derek saw, Melissa saw differently, it was ironic he was even with her. He saw Penelope Garcia as his best female friend, his babygirl. Melissa saw her as a threat, they had a whole argument about it. Melissa had finally stopped seeing Garcia as a threat when he told her that Garcia was wrapped up in Kevin drama. He wanted to tell Garcia about all of this, but he knew that if he did she would immediately tell him to dump her. Anyone that came between their friendship wasn’t allowed, and that wasn’t a rule Garcia had made up, it was more of an understanding they had come to about their dynamic as friends.

Derek just hadn’t dumped her yet out of fear. This was his first significant other in so long, it felt like a failure to start something and end it. He wanted to fix it. Though he knew it was unlikely he could, he still wanted to try.

Derek kept thinking as he finished pulling the books off until there were none left, he then pulled on the board of the shelf to see how unstable it was, all while continuing to think. He thought about Melissa, but none of it was really positive. It was all what she would hate about him being here, other than the obvious of being with Spencer (which she already disliked. She hated the genius and she hadn’t ever spoken to him, which Derek didn’t think was rational at all.) She would hate how Spencer’s apartment was, the green walls and shelves of books, the lack of a television, the soft glow from the lamps. Derek found every single last one of these qualities endearing, it helped show who Spencer was as a whole. Melissa would see it as a problem.

She’d say green was a gross color, that Spencer needed to be aware of pop culture and get a television, she’d say that Spencer didn’t get out enough and he lived like a hermit; she’d say the lighting was weird and dark, instead of soft and calming.

Derek let out a sigh, deciding to abandon his thoughts as a whole, because they were just starting to irritate him. Spencer was great the way he was, Melissa was being problematic; and him and her really needed couples counseling or something. That was the decision he landed on as he gave his full attention to the wiggly boards in Spencer’s bookshelf.

Derek pulled on the shelf again to test it’s strength. It was loose, pretty close to just falling down altogether. It was good he was here to fix it, Derek concluded, as he reached for the screwdriver in his toolkit.

The night continued on, Derek went through part by part, working on fixing Spencer’s bookshelf; meanwhile Spencer had ordered them dinner from the local Chinese place. Reid had thought about setting up the dinner at his kitchen table, before immediately regretting that idea. This was casual, it wasn’t some type of sit down dinner with Derek. That’s the last thing he needed, Spencer decided, as he walked over to Derek and handed him the carton of beef broccoli and a pair of chopsticks to go with.

Derek took them and put them down next to himself quickly, before pivoting into a sitting position on the floor and turning himself away from the bookshelf, facing exactly to the dinner table- which is where Spencer had opted to sit at, alone.

“What’re you doing all the way over there?” Derek’s spoke out to him. Spencer tried to be casual, “All my stuff’s over here, and it’s not that far from you,” he shrugged, hoping Derek wouldn’t go any deeper. But of course, he did. “And I’m over here, so bring your stuff my way- you’re gonna make your repairman eat sitting on the floor alone? That’s cold, man.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as he picked up his carton of orange chicken and rice, “Okay, I’m here.” He tried to sound like he was annoyed, instead of stupidly simultaneously happy and unhappy with derek’s request (happy because his stupid crush on Derek, unhappy because of the same, unfortunate reason).

He made his way over to Morgan, sitting down across from him and using the back of his couch as a makeshift chair prop to lean against. He opened up his food, as Derek was now satisfied with this series of events and had gone back to paying attention to his beef broccoli. Spencer picked up his fork, ready to eat and just ignore how he was feeling, when Derek spoke up again; “Seriously- you still don’t know how to use chopsticks?”

Suddenly, Spencer was giving Derek a glare that had no malice, while Derek just chuckled at Spencer’s fury. “I’m tellin’ you. You need to learn how to use chopsticks.” “It’s fine.” Spencer argued weakly, “No way, if suddenly all the forks, knives, and spoons vanished, you’d have to eat with chopsticks.”

“Not true if sporks are still a thing.” Spencer pointed out, “I’m gonna smack you.” Derek replied, now it was Spencer’s turn to laugh.

“...But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts, she’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers. Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find. That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time...”

The third time was when Spencer had resigned, accepting his feelings for what they were. He was now simply playing the waiting game, of waiting his crush out- because god knows he can’t go on like this forever. He hated how things have changed from a small crush into a serious never ending stream of thoughts he had whenever he was with Derek, but that’s how it was for him now.

He had ways to keep himself in check, though. As he always did. One was re-reading long old stories to himself from memory. It usually worked pretty well, and it was a good way to just pass the time in general.

Except for one, especially horrid time, when the FBI baseball team had a game against the CIA’s.

Spencer wasn’t playing, thank god for that. He wasn’t good at sports, though that one time he played baseball with Derek earlier in the season was a great memory he loved to go back to and remember. But that was a fluke, and he knew if he played again it wouldn’t go nearly as well.

Since he wasn’t playing, him and the rest of the team had come along to bring Morgan moral support from the sidelines of the bleachers. What Spencer hadn’t expected was Melissa showing up, too.

She showed up at the same time the team did to the field, they set up on the bleachers with some blankets and a basket full of snacks (courtesy of one Penelope Garcia.) and then she was suddenly walking over, surprising the team.

“Hi- um, are you Garcia? Is this the area for the BAU?” She asked, she had shoulder length brown hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing a flowy pink and yellow sundress. She was pretty, borderline beautiful, there was no denying that.

Spencer decided to start re-reading the books in his head by that point. He could already guess it was Melissa, as Rossi wouldn’t have invited a woman to this event until at least the ninth or eighth date (though with Rossi, Spencer never really knew how he operated in terms of dating, and he had no desire to know). Spencer also knew she wasn’t Hotch’s, as Hotch was too focused on Jack and the team to even consider dating.

Emily was single, and definitely would not invite a guy (or girl) to this either. J.J. was happy with Will, and Penelope had the on and off thing with Kevin. So yeah, Spencer deduced easily that this beautiful mysterious woman was Melissa.

The fact Derek invited Melissa rubbed Spencer the wrong way. But it wasn’t his business, he reminded himself, as he did his best to start focusing in on pride and prejudice in his mind.

Garcia began welcoming Melissa, even though it wasn’t necessary; “It is! And I am! Hi! Are you Melissa? Derek told me you were coming!”

Spencer did his best to not focus on Melissa, skipping forward a few chapters into pride of prejudice in his mind, to keep himself focused. He got pulled from his book though, as Melissa introduced herself and Garcia started introducing the team back;

“Well, grandpa over there is David Rossi,” “Easy, or else you won’t get those extra vacation days I offered you.” Rossi replied simply as hell, reaching for a bag of chips from the basket. “Fine- that esteemed gentleman right there is David Rossi.” “Better.” Rossi responded, a small grin showing across his face. Melissa laughed softly with Garcia and Rossi for a moment before Penelope continued on;

“That’s Aaron Hotchner, and his son Jack.” Garcia pointed them out, Jack was playing on his Nintendo DS, only looking up to wave briefly as Hotch reached over to shake Melissa’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You too.” She smiled at him.

“Those two lovely ladies are Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss, plus Jennifer’s hubby Will and their adorable son Henry,” they all shook hands with Melissa, and J.J. briefly told her that it wasn’t necessary to call her “Jennifer” but instead “J.J.” as that was the name she was most used to.

“Then, we got Doctor beautiful brain, Spencer Reid.” Spencer looked up, giving Melissa a small wave, finally looking her head on. He had seen her, sure, but he hadn’t made eye contact with her until right now. And damn, she looked wild behind the eyes. And not in a good way. She was perky, seemingly almost as positive as Penelope. But that positivity didn’t reach her eyes. She looked Spencer up and down, and there was something deep in her gaze that made him want to get up and walk to the CIA side of the bleachers. It was clear he was going to have to walk on eggshells around her, and he wished he knew why.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Spencer offered up as a greeting, “You too,” Melissa replied, smiling as she turned on her polite charm again. It was only in her eyes he could see her distaste towards him. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Melissa settled down, sitting next to the rest of the team as they waited for the game to start. She was thankfully seated near Emily, J.J., and Garcia. So Spencer and her’s conversation was limited.

That was until, he was brought up in conversation; “Oh geez- one of the funniest things was when Spence and Morgan got stuck in that elevator together,” J.J. recounted, causing all four of them to laugh; meanwhile Spencer didn’t react. He was still deep in his mind reading, and though he heard his name called, it didn’t cause him to want to stop.

“Yeah- I heard about that from Derek, he said Spencer spouted off some fact about people and elevator deaths because he was scared.” Melissa turned to Spencer as she spoke, giving him an in to speak. Spencer didn’t realize she had even turned to him, as he was fully focusing his brain power on the pages of the book he had read over before.

“Uh.. what’s he doing?” Melissa asked in a hushed voice to J.J., “Oh- he’s just reading. Spencer, hey.” J.J. said, leaning over and tapping his shoulder, finally catching his attention; causing him to open his eyes.

“Sorry- what?” Spencer finally spoke, as he was fully there and listening to them now, instead of somewhat ignoring them and focusing on a memory of a book.

“..J.J. said you were reading?” Melissa asked curiously, obviously confused. Spencer nodded, “Yes. I was. I have an eidetic memory so I can look back at anything I’ve ever read. So sometimes I go back and read books I’ve read before.” Spencer explained awkwardly, “I do it to, uh, pass the time.”

“Hm.. that’s.. that’s cool. Derek mentioned you were smart, recounting lots of facts.” Melissa said slowly, it seemed like she was trying to gain some sort of edge in the conversation, but thankfully Emily butted in casually- not realizing the odd atmosphere that was slowly building.

“Oh yeah- Reid’s always doing that. Talk to him on Halloween and all he talks about is how paganism played a major role in the now very American, very non-pagan holiday.” The girls laughed on innocently as Melissa gained a serious look in her eye again.

“You know everything?” She asked him, “No.” he replied, he was self assured in this field, he knew how to handle himself when people were doubting his intelligence level. “I just know a lot.” He clarified.

Melissa looked like she was ready to speak, say something to him- he had no clue if it would be good or bad. But everyone’s attention got redirected on the whooping sounds both teams made as they entered the field. The game was starting.

Spencer had stayed focused on the game, even running statistics and probabilities in his head on who would come out victorious. Rossi made a joke they should bet on the game like people do on horses, and he’d just cheat and use Reid to make sure he won.

The rest of the team didn’t go for that, as they would employ the same strategy as Rossi, and Spencer was smart enough to give them all the wrong answers so he would actually win.

It was now the third inning, J.J. had gone with Hotchner and Will to take a short walk with the kids, as they were getting bored in their seats. Rossi went off to flirt it up with the older woman who was running the concessions stand, and Emily and Garcia had gone off to the bathroom together.

Now it was just Melissa and Reid alone, and Reid didn’t like her company. He didn’t mean it in a rude way, but also maybe he did- for his very stupid and very personal reason that she was actively dating his crush. But besides that reason, she seemed off, and on a team of behavioral analysts, he couldn’t be the only one who noticed.

There was something wrong with her, but Spencer couldn’t place his finger on what. That was, until, she sat down next to him on the bleachers. “So,” she started casually, “what’re you reading up there?” “Pride and Prejudice.. have you read it?” Spencer replied, doing his best to make polite conversation.

Melissa shook her head, “No, way too long of a book for me.” Spencer just nodded, an “Ah” sound escaping his lips before their conversation entirely diminished as they sat in silence, watching the CIA’s team line up for batting.

Derek was on second base, and while he waited for the CIA team to finish lining up, he turned to the only two people still on the bleachers and waved. Melissa waved in response excitedly, “Go Derek!” She shouted for good measure, Reid on the other hand just gave a small wave to him.

Their personalities were very different, Spencer gathered.

“Derek helped you with a bookshelf the other week, right?” Melissa asked after silence had settled over them, and Reid had almost returned to his brain book. Her question stopped him from reading, though.

Spencer nodded, “Uh, yeah. He helped fix my bookshelf, the boards were all wobbly and books couldn’t stay on.” Melissa hummed in response for a moment, before looking back out to the field. Derek was now busy talking to a teammate, a guy Spencer recognized from the terrorist division.

“Look, Spencer,” Melissa finally spoke again, letting out a sigh before she continued on; “We both know Derek is an attractive man, a great man. But he’s my man. I don’t need you confusing him and making him switch sides- believe me, I want to think that you two are just the best of friends and that’s it. But I don’t believe it, not for a second, especially not after hearing how he talks about you, and finally meeting you.”

Spencer stayed quiet, not looking at Melissa, instead opting to stare at his hands, that were now firmly clasped together as he took in what she was saying. “We are just friends, though..” Spencer finally spoke up in a weak defense for himself. Melissa just chuckled, their pleasant conversation had somehow turned to her speaking to him in a sickly sweet malicious tone.

“I don’t think you are. I think there’s something more, and I don’t want things to go any further- with either of you.”

Spencer stayed quiet again, seriously considering exiting the bleachers and getting a cab (as the team had carpooled over to this event together.) and just leaving, going back to his apartment and faking the stomach flu for a day and a half. It seemed so appealing to just disappear right now.

Melissa continued on after she realized Spencer wasn’t going to say anything. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, Spencer. You seem very kind, and smart. You told me earlier you don’t know everything, but you know a lot,”

Spencer nodded, that was true, he had said that, she kept going; “I hope you now know where your place is. Away from Derek. And I hope you know you aren’t alone with me talking to you, I would be telling Penelope Garcia the same exact thing, except she has a boyfriend, Kevin. Derek told me. So you’re the only single one who poses a problem. I hope we can be friends- but you need to back up.”

And that was all, she got up and moved away, and just in time as Emily and Garcia made their reappearance from the bathroom and onto the bleachers.

Spencer stayed frozen, however. Not really sure what he could say or do. All he knew now is that he had a very good reason to dislike Melissa. And he did, as much as he hated to admit it. He disliked Melissa, he wanted her gone. He didn’t want her and Derek together.

He was now only more sure that he would treat Derek better, he wouldn’t go around threatening his friends- he couldn’t even imagine that as something he would ever want to do.

Spencer stayed, shrunken on the bleachers as he watched the team play, staying quiet and reserved while Melissa and the rest of the team cheered.

Spencer just hoped Derek figured out that Melissa wasn’t good for him sooner than later, or else he’d never get out of the relationship scratch-free.

“Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn out jeans. I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughin’ on the park bench thinking to myself, ‘hey isn’t this easy?’. And you got a smile that could light up this whole town. I haven’t seen it in a while since she brought you down. You say you’re fine I know you better than that. Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?”

Since Spencer’s unfortunate encounter with Melissa, he had done his best to steer clear of Derek. Only being with him when necessary (and they were only really together for work, though for the few latest times that Derek’s invited him out to get food or see a movie, Spencer’s declined).

Derek had subtly caught notice, wondering why Reid had been declining his invitations. At first he thought it was because Reid was busy, he was somehow also getting a bachelors degree in philosophy at the moment, it made since if he had limited free time.

But then he did more thinking, and even if reid was busy- he always made time for Derek. Morgan knew that for a fact, because every time he needed help (work related or not) Spencer was there, and ready to assist. Even if Reid was studying, the kid read so fast he only needed to read something once to remember everything. So it didn’t make sense. Not at all. Spencer was avoiding him.

So why? Derek now had to get alone with Reid, he needed to see what this was about.

And Derek got his chance, after solving a case in the sleepy city within Maine, called Rangeley. The teams plane was having a malfunction issue with a part of the engine, so they were stuck there for an extra day. Unfortunate for everyone else, but a blessing in disguise for Derek. It was the perfect time for the team to hang together, maybe get some meals or see a movie. But Derek set up a plan.

Morgan knocked on Spencer’s door the morning they had nothing to do, with his plan already getting set in motion. This was step one, of many.

Reid responded in his own special fashion, opening the door a crack to look out at Derek and into the hall, his hair looked messy, he was still slightly bleary eyed- and he was still in his pajamas and mismatched socks. He had just woken up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Derek asked, he didn’t want to start this morning off on Reid being rudely awoken. Reid nodded as he opened the door more, stepping forward the slightest bit. “Yeah, but it’s okay. What’s going on?” Reid was already aware of the plane situation, the whole team had been told last night, which forced Derek into making this last minute plan.

“Nothing- the team doesn’t have anything to do. Wanna go get breakfast?” Derek asked, trying to phrase his words and himself casually. He didn’t want Reid to get suspicious and back out. He just wanted answers from his best friend, that’s all.

Spencer rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before responding. “Okay, yeah. Let me go get changed.”

They arrived at an Ihop. It wasn’t anything special, but it was the nearest breakfast place to the hotel, so it worked for them. They were greeted by a hostess who showed them to a booth.

Spencer didn’t know why he agreed this this, he shouldn’t have. But in his half-awake and still somehow sleep deprived mind, breakfast seemed like a good idea. A great idea, in fact. But he now was anxious again. He didn’t want to deal with Melissa, call him scared, nonconfrontational, weak- whatever. He just didn’t want to have to deal with her. He enjoyed hanging out with Derek, but he knew if he did then it would be inevitable that he would end up facing her wrath again.

Almost immediately after the hostess showed them to their booth, their waiter appeared to take their orders. “Goodmorning, what can I get started for you two?” The older gentleman, whose name tag simply read “John” asked them.

“Just some coffee, please.” Derek ordered for the both of them. He knew what Spencer would want to order, and he also knew how bad Spencer was at conversing with people he wasn’t familiar enough with. John just nodded, saying a quick; “Comin’ right up!” Before walking off to leave them alone.

“Is the rest of the team coming?” Spencer asked as he stifled a yawn with his hand. Derek shook his head, “No, they all wanted to sleep in. Lucky I dragged you out of bed, though.” He joked, hoping to lighten the mood in the room. Spencer just smiled sheepishly for a moment before looking back down at the table.

They stayed quiet, which wasn’t unusual for the two, especially considering they were both still tired. But Derek didn’t want there to be silence, he wanted to talk about what was going on. “Reid-“ he started, but before he could continue his sentence, John was standing by the table with a pot of coffee. Derek and Spencer both wordlessly pushed their mugs over towards John, watching him fill them up with coffee in silence.

John finished pouring and stepped back, “I’ll give you folks some more time before ordering.” Derek just nodded at him, “That would be great, thank you.” And with that, their waiter was gone.

Reid was now focused on his mug of coffee, grabbing some sugar packets from the container on the table and ripping one open after another, before finally pouring it into his coffee. “How many sugars you plan on putting in there?” “Two.” “You’re already ripping open a third packet, Reid.”

“Oh.” Was all he said in response, Derek sighed, Spencer wasn’t acting right; he hadn’t for a while but this morning was peak Reid-being-weird, so Derek needed to take a stronger approach; “Reid. What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong.” Spencer said all too quickly to be believable. Derek rolled his eyes, watching the tired genius grab a spoon and stir his coffee with an intensity he never normally used. “That doesn’t work on me, man. We’re all profilers. I know when something’s up.” Spencer stayed quiet, still stirring his coffee with the spoon.

Reid didn’t want to be in this situation. He knew he should’ve hidden himself better, said and acted in different ways. Derek knew something was up, and Spencer couldn’t hide it forever. Especially not from him. He hated lying to Morgan.

“So..” Spencer spoke quietly, “What do you think is up?” Derek rolled his eyes at Spencer again, “Don’t talk to me like an unsub trying to stall. Somethings wrong. Did I do something- was it something I did or said?” Spencer put his spoon down as he watched Derek.

“I gotta be honest, Reid. I don’t know what’s going on here. We used to hangout so much, and suddenly you’re giving me the cold shoulder. I thought it was because of your studies- but you’ve done written whole thesesis while we’ve hungout. So it’s not you being busy with school. You make time. Why isn’t there any time now?” Derek kept going, voice raising in intensity as he got to the end.

Spencer wanted to say something, he wanted to say something so bad. But he didn’t know what. So instead he took a sip of his not-sweet-enough coffee. Derek watched him as he did so, intensity not wavering.

Spencer put the mug back down onto the table before he finally found his words, “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything.” “So what is it?” Morgan asked him almost instantly. Spencer sighed, he didn’t want to say it was Melissa. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to make Derek feel bad, he thought Derek was happy with her. He didn’t want to ruin that, even if Melissa was terrible. Derek was seemingly glad, and Spencer didn’t want him changing from positive to anything else (except somehow maybe more positive.)

“It’s nothing.” “It’s definitely not nothing, Reid. Please tell me.” Derek pried more. He couldn’t let this go. Spencer sighed, a weak sign of defeat. “Okay- but. I’m sorry. This involves Melissa.” He admitted, looking up to see Derek had a confused expression on his face. “What about her?” “When we went to the baseball game a few weeks ago and met her. She was really pleasant at first, but as soon as we were alone on the bleachers together she told me that I needed to stop being so close with you. And it really freaked me out, she saw me as a threat.”

Derek leaned back in the booth bench, unsure of what to do. “What did she say?” Derek finally asked after a moment, deciding he wanted to know what Melissa said to Spencer in full to make him act like this. Spencer didn’t deserve to be treated this way, he just didn’t. “I’m not going to-“ Spencer started, Derek just cut him off, “Yes you will. I know you remember what she said. So tell me. Please.”

Spencer fidgeted with the handle of the mug, “Okay, okay.. she said that you were her man and then she said, ‘I don’t need you confusing him and making him switch sides’...” Spencer spoke once more after that, before he could forget, “She also, um.. she said she would tell Garcia the same thing, except she didn’t because she knew she was with kevin.”

Derek stayed quiet, looking at Spencer before looking back down at his mug of coffee. Spencer stayed quiet, he didn’t know what he could say or do right now to make this better.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer finally decided to speak after it had been silent for a few minutes. “I didn’t want to tell you because you-“

Derek held his hand up as a simple gesture, indicating Spencer should be quiet. Spencer hushed up quickly, watching Morgan, who was sitting silently still, staring down with an intensity that could burn stronger than the sun. He stood up after a moment, pulling out his wallet and putting two twenty dollar bills down on the table, in front of Spencer. “For the coffee. Get some breakfast, too. I need to go.” “Derek, I-“ Spencer started, standing up, he wasn’t gonna leave Derek alone, especially to process this large amount of information. but he had started walking away, back turned to reid- leaving him alone at the booth. He wasn’t going to come back, and as much as Spencer wanted to follow him and never leave his side- he could tell he should leave him alone, at least for now.

After that whole experience, Spencer didn’t stay to get breakfast. He finished his coffee, paid, and left quickly. Deciding Derek needed space, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do, so he tucked tail back to the hotel. He lied to himself, saying maybe he could nap or watch T.V and ignore his imploding thoughts.

He couldn’t ignore his imploding thoughts, if that wasn’t painstakingly obvious. Spencer’s mind reeled from every aspect of their breakfast, to how he was curt and almost rude to Derek- he now wished he hadn’t been, but how else could he have acted? He didn’t know. He hated how things had went. He should’ve lied and told Derek he didn’t have the time for breakfast.

So, when Spencer finally got the hotel, he sat and thought and waited, waited for any sounds outside of his hotel door. Derek’s room was directly across the hall from his. So he waited for the sounds of the door opening, the beeping of the keycard, the sound of footsteps that were muffled by the soft carpet. Anything that would show Derek was back, back close to him, close enough to him for a conversation again. Because he knew that they needed to talk.

Spencer was counting. One hour and eighteen minutes passed before he heard any sounds of life that would match what he was waiting for. Namely, he heard the footsteps approach by his door, and then the beep of the keycard. And finally, the door opening and shutting quickly. Derek was there, he was back, Spencer got off his perch on the bed in record speed, exiting out to the hall and crossing quickly.

He was about to knock on the door, hand raised in the air, before he slowed himself down. Was this too much? What if Morgan didn’t want to talk to right now? What if Derek thought he was lying and was mad? Oh god, that terrified Spencer. He hoped Derek knew he wasn’t lying, he could run any behavior test he wanted to, but he wouldn’t lie to Derek. Not now, not ever.

Spencer still had his hand raised in the air, standing directly in front of the door. If Derek thought he was lying, he would prove he wasn’t. Nothing mattered right now, Spencer decided as he took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Spencer heard movement from inside the room, before Derek opened the door. He looked stressed, the lines in his face were hard set, this was how he looked when he dealt with an unsub. This isn’t how he should be looking on a day off. Derek said nothing as he looked at Spencer, “Can we talk?” Spencer asked him after it was clear Derek wasn’t going to start talking.

Derek nodded. Wordlessly opening the door more, and stepping back to allow Reid inside. He stepped in, Derek’s room was a mirror copy of Spencer’s, simple and small. He had his duffel sat on the floor by the small twin bed provided by the hotel.

Reid stood in the room, Derek moved past him to sit down on the edge of the bed as Spencer messed with some loose thread on his jacket, “I, um... I got your change..” Spencer started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash and coins. He wasn’t sure what to say now that he was inside Derek’s room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, so he wasn’t sure how to prepare. Derek wasn’t acting like himself, so he didn’t know what would work.

Spencer went to hand it back to him, “Reid, no.” Derek started, causing Spencer to stop in his tracks, holding the money in silence.

“You didn’t come here for that.” Derek motioned to the money with his hand. “No. I didn’t.” Spencer mumbled awkwardly, shoving it back into his jacket pocket, the coins clinking together all too loudly for his liking.

“I’m sorry.” Derek sighed after a moment, “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It’s just- I couldn’t believe what you were saying.” Spencer nodded, he wanted to say so much to Derek. He wanted to say, “I swear on my mother I am not lying”, he wanted to say “I’m sorry, I should have stayed quiet” he wanted to say “I care about you so much and I don’t want to see you walk away, I don’t want to lose you”. But Spencer couldn’t talk, he wasn’t sure what would come out if he spoke.

“I, uh, I called Melissa.” Derek told him, “After I left. I called her, I asked her if she said that to you, and she said she didn’t say it like that,” He took a breath before continuing on, “I asked her what she meant, because she wasn’t denying what she said. She just was saying the wording was off.”

Spencer found his small, awkward voice, deciding to look down at the floor instead of Derek. He was scared of what he would see. “What did she say the wording was?” He asked Derek, “She said she was harsher than that, told you to back off. Then she tried to explain herself, as if any of what she did was acceptable and could be fine under the disguise of caring for your significant other.”

“Reid, look at me. Please.” Derek sighed, not continuing whatever else he was going to say. Spencer finally looked up to meet his eyes. Derek just looked tired, leaning awkwardly on the couch, as he kept his gaze on Spencer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause this.” Spencer apologized, he had no clue if he needed to. But it felt like what he had to do.

“No, don’t.” Derek shook his head, as if to knock the apology out of his brain. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you. The red flags were there, Reid. And there were so many. I was just ignoring them.”

Spencer stayed quiet, watching Derek as he admitted this out loud; “I just- I wanted to make it work. But the fact she said that to you, and was gonna tell garcia, I just-“ Derek shook his head again, a mixture of defeat and anger simultaneously now instead of a signal for reid to stop.

“It upset me. I couldn’t believe it. So I called her and that happened and... and...” Derek trailed off, sighing simply as if that was the end of the sentence.

“...You broke up?” Spencer asked carefully, not wanting to misjudge. Derek nodded, rubbing his face with both hands. He was stressed. Spencer could tell.

“We did. It’s for the best. I can’t be dating someone who is like that. Especially not to you, or Garcia. That’s the biggest deal breaker out there.” Derek spoke, he was still serious but he was also sort of joking in a way to help calm the atmosphere down.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, instead moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from Morgan to give him plenty space. Derek didn’t like that, pulling on Spencer’s hand and motioning him to sit directly by his side.

Spencer complied, but cursed his face for causing a blush to form. This wasn’t the time to savor the feeling of Derek’s strong grip on his hand. It wasn’t.

Spencer was now sat down next to Derek, he wasn’t sure what else to say, so he stayed quiet. But he knew he didn’t want to leave Derek’s side now. He needed to be here. It couldn’t be easy for Derek.

“I’m sorry I left you at the restaurant.” Derek spoke after a while of them sitting side by side. “It’s okay,” Spencer told him, Derek gave him a sideways glance that proved he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“I didn’t end up having breakfast, though. I was worried.” Spencer admitted. Derek let out a low chuckle, and god, Spencer loved that sound. When was the last time he heard it? It used to be as common as hearing traffic in downtown Quantico, but as of lately; he hadn’t heard it often. Spencer knew in the back of his head, it was probably Melissa. Small things had changed with Derek during their time of dating.

First, it was calling Spencer “pretty boy”, and Garcia “baby girl”. Derek stopped saying it, and as much as garcia was worried about him, Derek had assured her he was okay. (Spencer didn’t mind the nickname stopping, as he finally didn’t have to come up with an excuse every time he blushed in front of the team when Derek would call him that.)

But then, Derek showed up to work looking tired, and sure- the job took long hours and restless nights and way too many coffee breaks. But he looked like he was losing that energy in his eyes. The excitement that made him join the team. He had told Spencer it was originally he missed Melissa. But now, Spencer was second guessing that.

Things had slowly changed with Derek, so small that Spencer didn’t even notice fully. But if you looked at all the reasons why he changed, it could be tied back to Melissa.

Good riddance. Spencer thought to himself. In ordinary situations, he would hate to think that, but today he didn’t; as he heard Derek’s soft, low chuckle. He didn’t want to ever stop see Derek being himself. He wouldn’t stop him from anything, he knew he wouldn’t. All he would want to do is care about him, kiss him, fall asleep in his arms, have a nice dinner with him- things a real boyfriend would do.

He would let Derek be himself, he wouldn’t stop him from working, he wouldn’t want to fight, he wouldn’t want to play games, and god knows he wouldn’t stop Derek and Garcia flirting. That’s what kept them happy, together, and secure.

“I’m sorry you guys broke up, but if it’s any consolation. You belong with someone better.” Spencer admitted, not adding on the last part he always wanted to say. If he could say it, lord knows he would. But he couldn’t tell Derek they belonged together. He sounded insane.

Derek softy bumped shoulders with him in an act of thanks, “Thank you. Now c’mon, let’s go get you some real breakfast, pretty boy.” He said as he stood up, the blush immediately rushed back into Spencer’s face. God, that name would be the death of him. He was seriously going to die like this.

“You still got my change? ‘Cause you’re paying.” Derek joked with him as he turned to pull on his coat, “It’s your money, why don’t I give it back to you?” Spencer asked him, the conversation now changing to a much lighter tone. Derek shrugged, “You paying a cashier will help your people skills. Now c’mon, I saw a good restaurant with outdoor seating that’s by a garden. You can give me plant facts while we eat.”

“...Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re ‘bout to cry. And I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me...”

Derek’s growing love for Spencer Reid was so slow he didn’t realize it until it was bursting out of his chest. It wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t, at least not to Derek. But suddenly it was everything Spencer did, it had his attention and captivated his thoughts. If Spencer was rambling about something, Derek would listen. Even if he didn’t care, even if he was tired, or hungry, or even mad.

To put it simply, it was every single thing that Spencer had ever done for him, suddenly making Derek feel something. It was every little funny thing Spencer did, it was every factoid he spat out to the team at the round table, it was how he was there for everyone in less than a second if needed, it was how Spencer complained about modern television, it was how Spencer grumbled in his sleep when they had to wake him up to get off the team’s jet after a long case. It was everything.

Every one of those instances just made something inside Derek squirm. Before, when Derek was dating Melissa- he was able to hold that feeling at bay. But it had now been months since his and Melissa’s breakup, and he had nothing to stop his mind from thinking about Reid, so the feelings and thoughts about the genius only grew stronger.

He thought about him nonstop. About how Reid was precious, amazing, handsome, smart, and god- he was borderline perfect. And what had originally started as a small inkling feeling inside of him was growing, growing into something almost unmanageable. It took everything in Derek not to just lean over and grab the genius’ hand as he was waving it around when speaking about something he was passionate about, and holding it tightly.

It was getting worse, day by day it was hell at work. But it was the best suffering in the world. Seeing Spencer sat at his desk, deep in thought as he typed reports out, along with emailing scientists and doctors on the side. God, Reid was an absolute genius. Morgan wasn’t sure if he could easily get over that fact anymore as he used to. Now Spencer’s smarts had more meaning, and he wasn’t sure why.

Spencer’s smarts always mattered, and definitely came in handy for the team, saving their asses more than once. But now, his IQ level was something Derek caught himself almost worrying about.

Spencer wouldn’t ever say it, but what if he thought Derek was stupid? The brawn to his brain. Nothing more than a dude to tackle the bad guys and handcuff them down. What if Spencer thought he wasn’t a good person, a good friend?

Now, along with the growing admiration, he also had growing fear. Derek was now going back and forth between doubting himself and wanting nothing more than pulling Spencer into a janitors closet and kissing him until they needed air.

Yeah, Derek was screwed. Work was painful. But he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t. Even if he wanted to, he kept going along, because every day he saw Reid that feeling inside him only grew, and he didn’t have the willpower to stop it, and even if he did- he probably couldn’t. This was the strongest he had ever felt in a long time. It would take an army to stop how he felt (and even then, he might still beat the army).

The night it all went down wasn’t what derek intended it to be, he was pretty much planning on hiding his crush on reid to the grave, not admitting it to anyone ever about how he felt. Because as Derek saw it, Spencer was too smart for him. Definitely out of his league.

Because in Morgan’s mind, how dumb could he be? He had been slowly falling in love with his best friend, all while not even realizing it- and dating someone who was absolutely horrid during that entire process. It was enough to make him smack his head against his wall.

Derek was working late the night it happened, going over this same dilemma in his head as he finished up the last of his reports to turn over to Hotch.

Nothing was happening in the bullpen, and for the first time in forever, Spencer had left before the work day ended. He had been complaining of a stomachache, and Rossi had smartly deduced he was sick, and even though Reid didn’t want to leave- the team all but kicked him out the door, telling him he wasn’t any good working when feeling like vomiting.

Derek had missed him since he left, he felt stupid admitting that, but it was the plain and simple truth. His days were just better with Reid, and there was no other explanation than that. As stupid as it was, Derek had come to agree with that fact a while ago, and now it was just normal, him missing Reid. But thankfully Reid didn’t leave often enough for it to be bad.

That being said, Derek still worried. Deciding to call Reid, it was only 7 p.m., after all. Surely Reid was still awake.

His cell phone ringed as Derek held it up to his ear, twirling his pen absentmindedly between his index and pointer finger as he waited for Spencer to answer.

And he did, he sounded groggy, but he answered; “Hello?” “Hey, Reid.” Derek spoke, a small stupid smile creeping its way into his face. “How are you feeling?” He asked, he heard Spencer shuffling on the other end of the line, then the faucet running.

“I’m okay... just really dizzy now, so I got myself some water.” “Did you eat enough today?” Derek asked him, changing tones from a concerned friend to something more.

“Yes, I did. You don’t need to worry about my eating.” Reid said simply, he wasn’t the type of guy who liked being watched over. Derek understood why, but this was still necessary.

“Reid, c’mon now. When was the last time you ate?”

“11:23 a.m., Garcia gave me a muffin.” Spencer admitted after a beat of silence, “Reid, you’ve been not eating for almost eight hours- no wonder you felt so sick, man!” Derek said into the phone as he stood up, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders, deciding to leave now. The reports were almost done, anyway.

“Well, I’m not hungry so it’s fine..” Reid argued weakly in response, “Oh no, no. Don’t even, Spencer. I’m getting you food and taking it to your place. Now go lay down and take some tylenol, drink that water you got.”

Spencer huffed weakly, but made no move to argue or protest Morgan inviting himself over. “Fine. Please get me chicken noodle soup.”

As agreed, Derek got Spencer some chicken noodle soup from a great nearby deli Spencer had told him about a while ago. Derek was proud of himself for this choice in food, even if Spencer had requested soup, he hadn’t requested where. And Derek felt smart for remembering one of Spencer’s favorite places.

Derek arrived to Spencer’s apartment, the door was left unlocked so he came in, carrying the container of soup in both of his hands, so he pushed the front door shut gently with his foot.

“Hey, Reid. I’m here,” he called out into the apartment, as he made his way to the bedroom, finding a sleeping Spencer on the bed, covered in a few miscellaneous blankets to keep him warm.

Derek sat the container of soup onto the nearby bedside table, next to spencer’s near empty water glass, before looking down at reid.

Spencer was perfect, regardless if he was awake or asleep. But asleep he was so peaceful, so calm. Derek could so easily keep Spencer safe from everything in his sleep, hold him in his arms and help ground him. He knew Spencer got nightmares, everyone on the team did. But he knew if he was there, he could help, he could make it better.

Spencer was breathing softly, his face looked slightly flushed, and his hair was all over the place, some strands had fallen onto his face directly, which Derek gently pushed out of the way to get a better look at Spencer.

“Mmm..” Spencer mumbled in his sleep, a response to Derek touching him, Derek took a sharp breath in. God, he wanted to just tell Spencer right now he felt, he so badly did. And Spencer was asleep, what was stopping him? He could say it and Spencer wouldn’t remember. Because unlike conscious Spencer, unconscious Spencer didn’t remember things.

So before his brain could catch up to his body, he did. “I love you.” He told Spencer softly, it was barely above a whisper. It was so quiet he was sure Spencer didn’t hear it at all, but it was just Derek’s unfortunate luck that Spencer started to stir.

“Hm?” He asked, sitting up slowly, Derek pulled his hand away from where he had tucked the strand of hair away.

“I said, I brought you soup.” Derek lied easily, hoping that “I love you” and “I brought you soup” were interchangeable sounding sentences. Spencer just nodded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes slowly as he turned to look at the container on his bedside table

He didn’t suspect anything, Derek let a breath of relief out internally as Spencer reached for the container. “It didn’t come with a spoon, so I’ll go get you one.” Derek told him, getting up to go back into Spencer’s kitchen and grab a spoon from the silverware drawer.

When Derek came back, Spencer was more awake, holding the container of soup in his hands expectantly as he waited. Derek handed him the spoon wordlessly, before sitting down on the bed next to Spencer. “How are you feeling?” Derek asked him, as Spencer hadn’t tried out the soup yet (he was waiting for it to cool a bit more.) “Tired- sorry I left, by the way.” Reid responded slowly, he still felt the tiniest bit groggy.

Derek shook his head, “No Reid, don’t apologize. Are you feeling any better?” Spencer nodded slowly in response, starting to stir the soup to help it cool down. Derek watched him, the soft light from the only lamp on in the room casted off shadows throughout the walls and onto Spencer. He looked beautiful, even if he was wearing pajamas and his hair was messy and he was stirring his soup while half awake.

To Derek, he looked perfect. And once again, Derek’s body moved too fast for his brain to catch up with. He was suddenly talking; “Reid, can I tell you something?” He asked the tired genius, who just nodded and gave an “Mhm” sound in return as he continued to stir his soup.

Derek breathed in, he couldn’t go back. It was now or never. He turned to face Spencer, and if he hated him after this, so be it.

“I was an idiot, Spencer. When I was with Melissa, searching for a good moment to stay happy about was rare. But the entire time I’ve known you, everything’s been a good moment. Every opportunity I’ve had with you has let me grow and become smarter, and a better person..” he took a second to look back at Spencer, who was now looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read.

“But I’ve still been stupid. Because the entire time I was with her, I only looked forward to being with you. I missed the best thing right in front of me, and I hope you know that I am not normally this dense... but..” this was the hardest part of his whole speech, how the fuck was he supposed to admit something like this?

“But,” he started again, “I like you, Reid. I really like you. This entire time I was chasing the wrong person and following dead leads, like a rookie on a new case. But I realize the only person that makes me feel anything is you- and... I think, I- no. I am. I am falling for you. And I don’t even know if you like guys but-“ It was by this point Spencer put his soup down back on his bedside table, the soft sound shut Derek up easily.

“You’re falling for me?” Spencer asked, just simply clarifying what he had said. Morgan nodded, standing by it. “Yes. I am.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief, something Derek hadn’t expected him to do. “You aren’t stupid... I- um. I’ve been falling for you too.”

That made Derek light up instantly, “You have?” Spencer nodded sheepishly, staring down at his fingernails instead of Derek. “I wasn’t expecting you to...” Spencer mumbled, as if that was a sufficient enough explanation on his part on why he was relieved and surprised.

“It just snuck up on me. I can’t get you out of my head, you’re all I want.” Derek admitted, more brashly than he would’ve liked to phrased things. But that didn’t seem to bother Spencer at all, as he started to lean forward slowly, Derek leaned forward too, reaching up to put his hand on the side of Spencer’s face to help him stay steady. Their lips were inches apart, but Spencer spoke. “Derek, I want to kiss you so bad. But if I’m sick I don’t want to risk infecting you-“

“Pretty boy, I’m breathing your air already. And I don’t think you have the flu, just low blood sugar.” Derek told him, which quickly shushed Reid up. They leaned forward more, and all the feelings of angst and dread that had built up between the two disintegrated as their lips touched slowly.

It was a soft kiss, a chaste one. But there definitely was passion behind it. Morgan stayed close to Spencer, resting his forehead against his.

“I belong with you...” Derek mumbled, he didn’t care if Spencer heard it anymore. He should hear it, he deserved to hear it. He deserved to know he was the only one Derek wanted.

Spencer pulled back, a small smile playing on his lips the entire time. “I can’t believe it...” he mumbled to Derek after a moment. “You should. You said it yourself, I belong with someone better. And it’s you. I just hope you agree.” Derek told him honestly, not leaving anything he said to chance. Spencer nodded, “Yes- you belong with me. Absolutely, yes. I agree.”

Derek smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind spencer’s ear, before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on Spencer’s forehead. “You eat that soup, I’ll go get you some more water.”

———————————————————————

84 notes · View notes