#most are fairly brief mentions but want to be on the safe side!

[seasalteds]

❀ you’re not from around here, are you? i figured because you totally just missed THOMAS 'TOMMY' JANEWAY walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who SHE is? they kind of look like MADISON ISEMAN and i could be wrong but i think that they might be TWENTY EIGHT years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last FOUR YEARS. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of ELEANOR SHELLSTROP from THE GOOD PLACE. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at LINK IN BIO as a BARTENDER. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the ERRANT FLAME of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty IMPETUOUS at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty VIVACIOUS to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that THREE BEDROOM apartment beside me over in MANGO BAY LOFTS 4C. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

stats.

full name: thomasin philomena janeway.     nickname(s): tommy, thomas.     age: twenty eight.     date of birth: may 28th.     star sign: gemini.     sexuality: bisexual.     hometown: seattle, washington.     occupation: bartender at link in bio.     favourites: skateboarding, surfing, late nights, apple juice, sky blue, bugs, the beach, card games, taking edibles and going to the aquarium, spicy food, novelty lighters, rock climbing.

personality.

extroverted, up for anything, and a fair way off the rails, tommy is the girl you call when you want to get the party started or distract yourself from whatever awful crap is going on in your life. she doesn’t do the serious stuff, making sure everything is always dusted in a nice layer of nonchalance and sarcasm, but she’s a yes person. want to get a spontaneous tattoo? yes, absolutely. want to go to the bar? what time are we leaving? want to go skinny dipping in the ocean at night? yes, her top’s already off. life with her around is fun, but is that all it’ll ever be? tommy’s deep seated desire for human connection is directly at odds with the coping mechanisms she’s developed to keep people at arm’s length emotionally. she can fall into bed with anyone, drink at a bar for hours with anyone, fall asleep on a stranger’s couch three times a week, but the second it gets real she’s gone. maybe that’s why, when it comes to the people she does love and care about, she’s got a penchance for codependence. if tommy lets you in, it’s for life, because the only thing she fears more than responsibility is abandonment. that gives way to a clinginess and neediness that embarass tommy so badly that, if you were ever somehow privy to it and left anyway, she would deny your entire existence simply to escape the humiliation.

label.

tommy is the errant flame, that little spark that you just can’t quite get under control. with a glint in her eye and a shining smile, it’s hard to stay mad at her for long for her many indiscretions – but don’t get me wrong, when you’re as uncontrollable as tommy, it’s still very easy to make enemies. she burns bright, some days leaping out of control and others just enough for a simmer, but that fire is always there, blazing hot and simply waiting for some fuel. her flame keeps others warm, it brings them joy and cheer, a mesmerising show that you can’t take your eyes off of, but it destroys, too. it can singe and sear, causing pain to others just by straying too close. when people see the true tommy, sometimes they don’t like what they find. 

biography.

trigger warnings: abuse tw, violence tw, alcohol tw, doctors tw, hospitalisation tw, injury tw.

i. tommy was an unwanted and unexpected child. born to a superstar mother who graced the covers of vogue and a filthy rich father who had more offshore accounts than friends, the janeways were already perfectly happy before she came along (or their version of happy, anyway). they’d had one son, tristan, who was planned and perfect. he completed their trio and was destined to inherit the earth… unfortunately when he was two, that pink line appeared on the pregnancy test her mother took, and the rest is history.

ii. her parents told the world she was unwell when she was born. that they adored their new addition but she simply couldn’t handle the outside world. the reality was that tommy had been relegated to a set five rooms of their grandiose house, told with spite and malice that she was sick and she would make other people sick if she tried to get out. sure, the rooms were massive, and the kind staff her parents paid played games with her, brought her whatever food she wanted, and provided world class tutoring, but she knew something was missing even as a child. she knew something was off.

iii. the resentment from her family only grew and it became evident as she got older, but tommy’s desperation to see the outside world grew with it. she began venturing further and further from her five rooms, much to the chagrin and rage of her parents, and it all culminated one night in an event that shocked even tommy. she had reached the front door of their house, an impossibly massive thing that was flanked by two very polite gentlemen who referred to her as ‘miss janeway’, when her brother appeared out of nowhere. by this point she was sixteen and him nineteen, he had a promising rowing career ahead of him and was, by no means, small. he body blocked her and when tommy showed the first embers of her fiery spirit and attempted to push past him, he punched her in the jaw. hard.

iv. she remembers waking up in the hospital, only able to consume liquids through a straw, her jaw wired shut. looming over was her mother, holding a piece of paper in her hands. piece of paper is probably downplaying it, actually, it was a 20 page document that outlined what would happen from here on out. the janeways would give tommy her freedom, they would cover her university fees, and then they would pay her a single lump sum to stay away from them forever and never speak of this again. she was a kid, a scared little kid with no other options, so she signed it. that day, sixteen year old tommy made the decision to give up on the idea of a family for good, and the next two years of her life were spent waiting for college.

v. moving out day came swiftly and she made sure to pick a school that was far, far away. on the day she arrived, she got to her dorm room and her roommate, a bright eyed brunette with a blinding smile, offered her a shot of vodka. ’this is going to be the time of our lives, tommy! cheers to it with me?’ and so began a life of hedonism, overconsumption, and absolute. fucking. debauchery. it was both a coping mechanism and a result of being locked inside when she should’ve been watching terrifying psas in a high school classroom. she’d been released, and nobody was ever going to cage her ever again.

vi. the one thing tommy had inherited from her family, or her father at least, was his intelligence. she had an eye for numbers, even if she didn’t really like them, and was able to painlessly complete her degree thanks to it – even if she spent half the time hungover and was more used to using her skills to count cards, not better her life.

vii. she knew she had no home to go back to after graduation. whilst others were greeted in their caps and gowns by their families, tommy had no one, and she moved out of her apartment that year alone. that was okay though! the world was her oyster, she could go anywhere she wanted, and for a couple of years she did just that – travelling not only around america, but europe, australia, and even some parts of asia.

viii. but deep down, in the pits of her soul that could never be exposed to another, she missed human connection. or craved it, at least, since you couldn’t really miss something you’d never even had. she rolled into palmview when she was twenty four, not thinking much of the place at first, but quickly… something seemed to compel her to stay. the air was light, the sun shone brightly, and the beach… the beach! she couldn’t get enough, and so she stayed. and bought a surfboard.

ix. her money wasn’t endless, however, and living in the mango bay hotel was slowly beginning to lose its lustre. not only did she need a job, but she needed a real place to live… but in typical tommy style, both of those things seemed to simply land in her lap. both ace’s ad and a perfectly timed sign in the window as she was walking past link in bio meant in 24 hours, tommy’s life had suddenly course corrected. maybe it was the universe’s sick little way of repaying her for all those years of torture, maybe she really was just a lucky girl, either way she was set.

x. she’s now been in palmview for four years and it’s much easier to ignore the itch to run away when you’ve somehow put down tentative roots. friends, a roof over her head, a steady flow of cash, but most of all? freedom. problem is, all those years of running didn't exactly fix the problems beneath the surface, and it's only a matter of time before they make an unwelcome appearance.

[spiritgutz]

TWO TIME HEADCANONS

i am obsessed with this freak and need to dump my thoughts

WARNINGS: brief mentions of blood (involving two time's wings) and cults, two time being two time word count: 914

authors note: i'm extremely rusty with writing and i quite literally never use tumblr. please forgive any mistakes i've made as i try to get the hang of this 🙏

First of all, Two Time is absolutely enamored by you. The two of you are practically connected by the hip. It may seem a bit much, but they just feel so drawn to you! Why wouldn't they want to spend every waking moment by your side?

Very touchy. Their hand is usually almost always on some part of you in public, most likely on the small of your back or simply holding your hand.

They would likely refer to you as their "guardian angel."

You'll catch them staring a lot pre relationship with that signature smile on their face.

Glances turn into full-on staring, innocent touches seem to last longer, your personal space seemingly becoming shared between the two of you.

In all honesty you probably catch on fairly quick to their habits.

From across the cabin you could feel eyes trained on your frame. Most would find this unsettling, but you honestly didn't mind. You didn't move to find the source, nor acknowledge it for that matter.

However Chance, who you had just been talking to, seemed more focused on something behind you rather than conversing. You tilted your head in confusion before twisting your body around to discover the distraction. Ah, that suddenly made a lot more sense. Settled up on the second floor, Two Time gazed down at you while their arms rested on the wooden railing. Their smile seemed to grow the moment your eyes locked with theirs. Chance would address you, asking something along the lines of "Are they bothering you?" In response you would only wave your hand dismissively. Their behavior, albeit creepy at times, didn't bother you. It was almost...endearing.

As stated by the devs, Two Time is a little "insane in the membrane." But this doesn't mean that you love them any less!!

They can and will talk to you about the cult and the Spawn as a whole.

Speaking of that, Two Time would love for you to be a member of the cult someday! They won't force you by any means, but that doesn't mean they won't try and persuade you.

Sometimes you'll catch them watching you while you sleep. They'll just..stare at you. They almost act like a cat in that regard.

They sleep almost completely still minus the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

You might just end up staring at them instead. They look so peaceful when they're asleep, so serene.

I'd like to think that Two Time naturally runs colder than most people. Their hands would be like ice cubes.

PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE GIVE THAT CULTIST A HUG!!! WARM THEM UP RIGHT NOW!!!!

Two Time will melt if you touch their hair. I'm not arguing about this I am correct and anyone else is WRONG /lh

One of their favorite things is when you comb your fingers through their hair as they lay on top of you after a round is completed. It makes them feel safe

The two of you have totally fallen asleep on the cabin's couch before

If you're an active participant of the games(?), Two Time will always put your safety before theirs. A killer is trying to attack you? They’re using their body as a shield to protect you.

As much as they want to keep you safe, you're very against their methods. Your heart sinks whenever you see their wings burst from their back.

Sat on their bed, your hand gently trailed down from Two Time's shoulders, to their back, to just below where their wings had sprouted from their back the round prior. Their shirt still had remnants of dry blood, just barely blending into their black top.

You hadn't meant to get in the way. One moment you were assisting with a generator, and the next you were almost another victim of the masked killer, Jason. You surely would have perished right then and there if Two Time hadn't grabbed you by the arm, pulling you behind them as they took the blunt of the attack.

As you relived the events again in your head, a shuddered breath left the cultist sitting in front of you. Snapping out of your daze, you muttered an apology. You didn't want them to be hurt, to have put their life on the line for you.

"The Spawn would be pleased in knowing you're safe."

Two Time spoke, tilting their head back and smiling your way. It was pained.

Deep down you knew they would do anything for you, but you couldn't help but feel guilty. Even "The Spawn" seemed to encourage Two Time's efforts despite the pain that came with it. So wordlessly you shook your head.

You leaned forward, placing a soft but fleeting kiss just in-between their wings. Their posture stiffened at your actions, almost making you wonder if you had upset or even worse, hurt them. But they soon relaxed, releasing a sigh of contentment. You took notice of the way their face blossomed in color.

A wave of silence washed between you two. However as your finger traced shapes along their shoulder, your partner spoke up again, although a bit quiet.

"Perhaps they would be pleased with my safety as well.."

Their muttering, that small revelation—it brought a smile to your face. Carefully you leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek, causing them to chuckle. They're devoted to The Spawn, but to you as well. Even if it conflicts, they'll try and make you happy <3

[kitkat13001]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 (𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞)

think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there. i’ll beg you nice from my knees. and when the world treats you way too fairly, well it’s a shame i’m a dream

⤷ tomura shigaraki x civilian!reader

⤷ slight angst, comfort, brief mentions of blood/injury (vague, nondescriptive), established relationship, inspired by parmore’s “all i wanted”

it���s cold tonight, you think. your apartment is heated, and you’re under a mountain of blankets, but there’s a chill coming through your open window. 

if tomura was here, he’d chide you for that. 

any random psychopath could crawl through here, he’d tell you with a scowl. he might soften up, though, if you tell him that you’ve only left it open for him. 

but tomura is not here, and it’s cold without his body next to yours. 

he told you he’d be back. he’d promised.

still, you can’t help but worry. you never can, knowing he’s out there in the night fighting for his cause. 

you know he’s a villain. he tries to spare you the gritty details of his work, not wanting to taint any of the precious time you spend together. he wants to protect you from that world, that side of him. you don’t ever hold this against him. you just take whatever time with him you can get. 

the first time you met, you found him injured in the street and took him in like a stray cat. and like a stray cat, he was defensive and hostile at first, but something in you gaze, in your soft and yet stern voice telling him to “hold still” as you cleaned his wounds, made him do as you said. your kindness to a stranger—to a villain—had astounded him. you didn’t know who he was, but even when you found out months later, it didn’t change how you felt about him. 

he stayed with you that night, bloody and broken. he’s stayed with you since. he comes and goes, of course, as his villainous agenda permits. but he always comes back to you, climbs through your window to crawl in bed with you. brushes the hair from your face and tells you that you look beautiful tonight, that you look beautiful every night. 

you try for a long time, but sleep doesn’t come easy. you’re in and out of consciousness, tossing and turning and utterly unable to get comfortable. you startle when the door opens, sure you’re dreaming when you see tomura standing there in the warm, dim glow of the hallway. 

you debate for a minute whether to get up and run to him, or if he’s even real or just a figure of your nighttime imagination, but he’s crossing the room with silent footsteps before you can reach any conclusion. 

it feels like your forms meld together when he wraps you up in his arms. you can’t even form words, taking in deep breaths and listening to the sound of his racing heart. 

it’s really him. tears begin to well up in your eyes, but you sniff and pull away to wipe your face before they can fall. now isn’t the time to cry. not with him here next to you. 

“i missed you,” you say, speech muffled into his shirt. it seems like such an understatement. you don’t tell him that you stay up most nights, waiting for him. that you go about your day, wondering where he is and what he’s doing. that you watch the news and sit on the couch, biting your nails and hoping you won’t hear his name if that means he’s safe. 

“missed you too,” he breathes, lips brushing your hair when he speaks. “y’ didn’t have to wait up.”

“couldn’t sleep,” you whisper back, leaning back on the bed when he finally releases you. tomura strips off his coat, toeing his shoes off and setting them down in the corner carefully. 

“i wonder why,” he replies sarcastically, huffing out a bitter little laugh. “wouldn’t have anything to do with your evil villain boyfriend, would it?”

you recognize his deflection, the barely-disguised self-loathing in his voice. the hunch of his shoulders, the way he won’t face you. it’s not the first time, and it’s probably not the last. but it didn’t bother you then, and it won’t now either. 

“you can’t scare me away, tomura.”

“you deserve better.”

he jerks a little under your touch when you come up behind him, arms snaking around his middle and cheek pressed up against his back. “what if i don’t want better? what if i want you?”

you feel him freeze at that, feel the muscles in his back contract under the thin fabric of his shirt as his body goes rigid. 

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d cry. but you do know better, and you know that same as you, he’s not going to cry here in front of you. 

he’s breathless, reckless when he grabs your face to kiss you. you feel the light pressure of eight fingers on your cheeks. it’s such a risk for him to touch you like that, both of you know that. but you don’t care, neither does he if it means he can be as close to you as humanly possible. 

his voice is somewhat choked when he finally manages to get words out. “i fucking love you. i don’t think i even know how to love, but i…you’re fucking everything to me.”

his words are rough, jagged around the edges, but spoken with such finality and genuineness that your heart jumps in your chest. 

you kiss him again, slow this time, breathing in the same air every time your separate for a moment before going back in for another. 

neither of you speak for a while, moving about in silence as you go to get back to bed. 

you and tomura fit like puzzle pieces, settled under the covers in comfortable silence. you revel in the sound of his heartbeat, tracing light patterns up his arm as your breathing syncs. 

“do you ever think about me when you’re away?”

his answer is immediate, like there’s no doubt in the world. “always.”

you smile into the dark, face buried in his shoulder and legs tangled up with his. your hearts beat in unison, falling into rhythm with the patter of rain against the window. these walls know no villains, nor heroes or civilians. it’s just you and tomura while the world storms on outside, oblivious to the two of you huddled away in the dark. 

dividers by @/anitalenia and @/cafekitsune

[too-deviant]

idk if you’d be comfortable writing this but I was wondering if you could whip up an Aphrodite!reader who’s fed up with her beauty. She stops attending school and stays the full term at camp which makes Luke confused. So she tells him about how random dudes would hit on her and be creepy at her school or something. She’d prolly join him with Kronos bc she wants to feel respected for once. Would be such an angsty but filled with femme rage although totally cool if you choose not to write this~ Just wanted to share it with someone 💛

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Maybe you didn't want to be beautiful anymore.

Content: pretty angsty, brief mentions of male harassment but nothing explicit or triggering, again sorry for the wait i had w block pls forgive me. also not proofread sorry yall its been a rough week.

You were only faintly aware of the noise around you.

The chatter of the city was a mere buzz in the back of your head as you marched down the street. It amazed you, really, just how unbelievably dickish mortal boys could be. This one in particular; Mike Schwartz, a five foot something jock who sat on the bench at every game. He’d been a bother in your life since you started high school. Back then, you took the endless prospects as a compliment – you truly were your mother’s daughter. It was a boost to your weak teenage confidence. 

But as the years went by, the constant asking for your hand became an irritant. Especially when they couldn’t get the hint – at fourteen, turning down guys felt amazing, but when those same guys kept coming back for more, it made your eye twitch. Couldn’t they take the first no, tuck their tail between their legs and fuck off?

Apparently not. 

After four years of putting up with it, you were done. Storming out of the cafeteria, grabbing all your things, hailing a cab and getting the hell outta dodge. Maybe you should’ve stopped to think — called your dad, taken a few deep breaths. But the harder you thought about it, after trying not to for so many years, you came to the conclusion that you would’ve ended up here anyway. 

Here being the peak of HalfBlood Hill in the middle of September. It was only slightly unusual, because when you usually arrive at the start of summer you get to watch the crowds of arrivals setting up shop at camp. Now, however, it was fairly desolate. Less people, you knew. 

It was also a split second shock when you stepped across the border and felt the drastic change in weather. From the cool breeze of the autumn air to the warm summery spring that camp was in year-round. A shift that made you pause, but you kept on down the hill anyway. 

Chiron was waiting for you on the porch of the Big House, and without so much as a word, gestured for you to follow him inside. He was fairly understanding of your situation, but made you Iris Message your dad and tell him of your decision. He, too, was more glad you were safe than angry you ran off. 

“We can talk about this when you feel like talking.” He’d said. 

So you’d done it. Finally, you’d gotten yourself away from the hey hot stuffs and the you seeing anyone baby?s. You were back at camp, you were where you were most happy. 

But you weren’t happy. 

Being a year-rounder, you’d discovered, was a lot less busy than being a summer camper. You got more days off, longer breaks between activities. You found yourself spending more time in your own company; something you never really got to do before. Most of the time you were with your siblings, or your mortal friends, or you were being hounded by some frat boy and their friends.

It took a minute to get used to the loneliness, but you did. You explored camp, found places you hadn’t seen before. A cute clearing near a stream on the east side of the forest, or a Satyr sanctuary on the far end of the beach. You read more books, you trained a little harder, you perfected six new hairstyles on your little sister Elena and Annabeth from the Athena Cabin. 

And yet, you were still pissed off. 

“Why?” 

Luke Castellan was a name everyone knew in this little corner of Long Island. One of the oldest campers, head counsellor of the rowdiest cabin, token tour guide for the new kids. Oh, and the best swordsman camp had seen in, like, three centuries. He was cute, that much you’d heard all around your cabin. But you’d never really held a solid conversation with him until you became a year-rounder. The fewer people around, the more you run into him. 

You’d been practising a few neat tricks with a dagger when he spotted you. Said he was there to train himself for once and that you wouldn’t even notice he was there. You did, though. Especially when he took his shirt off twenty minutes in. 

You shared a water break, he asked you why you’d transferred to being a year rounder, and you indulge him in the story. He was super nice about it too, which made you angry. Was Luke the only nice guy on the planet? 

“But at least you’re happier now, right?” He’d said. You weren’t, you told him that much. He gave you this knowing look you’d never seen on him before, and asked Why?

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I love it here, I do. But I shouldn’t have to uproot my entire life and bring it here just to get some semblance of peace. I shouldn’t have to give up my education, my friends, my dad, just so I don’t have to get harassed every day. It’s not even like my mom gave me anything to help combat it, either. She just made me beautiful and told me to deal with the consequences! I mean,” You let out a weak chuckle, holding up the dagger you’d been toying with, “This was a birthday present from a friend in Cabin Six. Not even my mother, who is a warrior herself, could bother sending me a weapon. They really don’t give two shits about us, do they?” 

He’d parted his lips, eyes shining with something, and looked at you through his bottom lashes, “No. They don’t.”

You and Luke grew closer after that. A lot closer. By the time summer rolled around and the rest of the campers returned, you were inseparable. Many rumours spread but you two ignored them in favour of sneaking into that clearing you’d found and talking in whispers about your hatred for the gods. Who cared if they could hear you? Let them. 

It was Luke who had come up with the idea to steal the bolt. A quick job, in and out, and maybe then they’d listen to what you’d have to say. But they didn’t — they did exactly what they always did and risked the lives of two young demigods and a satyr just because they couldn’t be bothered doing it themselves. Selfish — that’s what they were. They didn’t care about anyone —

“ — but themselves!” You glared at Thalia, who stood before you atop Mount Tamalpais with her spear in your direction. “I mean, look at your dad. He didn’t care enough to stop the monsters from killing you, oh, but it’s okay because he turned you into a damn tree!”

“This isn’t the way!” Annabeth yelled from afar. Her hair was twisted in a style you’d taught her how to do that first year as a year-rounder. It broke your heart that she couldn’t see how right you and Luke were. 

“Curse them, Thalia.” You said plainly, holding up your dagger. Half mortal metal, half celestial bronze. A gift from Luke. “Curse your father and his children. His brothers. Curse them all like they deserve to be cursed! They deserve to be toppled.”

 You tilted your head, looking at them all. Luke and your army were heading steadily up the mountain. If you could convince them now, there wouldn’t need to be a battle. 

“Where are they now, huh?” You raised both your arms, “You’re fighting for your life against a titan on a mountain and the only god who came to help out was Artemis? And that’s just because she was here already.” You scoffed out a laugh, “You should thank us, really, for taking her. Had we not, you’d be dead already.” 

Annabeth watched. You were unrecognisable in that moment — your face streaked with dirt and blood, curled into a dark sneer that any of your siblings would berate you for because of the wrinkles you’d get. You didn’t seem to care all that much, though. Not when Thalia was lunging for you and attempting to pull you out of the rage you were in. Not when her spear and shield were no match for your measly dagger and you went toppling down the mountain. 

The next time any of them saw you was in Manhattan — after believing you to be dead for a year and a half, it came as a shock when you emerged from the crowd of monsters. Your hair was hacked short, and one of your legs had been replaced with a bronze prosthetic. You fought with a ruthlessness none of them had seen in you before, whether it be because you were on the losing side or because Luke had given his body to the Lord of Time before you had the chance to tell him you loved him. You were still angry, and even if you hated Kronos, you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you hated the gods. 

When Luke died, you were kneeled beside him. Your face was dirty, your hair was knotty, and there was a dent in your bronze leg. He lifted a hand to your face, “I’m sorry to have to say this, but…you’re sorta beautiful.”

“Sorta?”

He grinned, and then he died, and you were filled with such unbridled rage that you pushed yourself down to the ground of Manhattan and tore through Kronos’ army with fire in your eyes, not stopping until Apollo got rid of your sight and forced you to calm down. You didn’t know if you’d ever be calm, since the only person who ever understood you just died in your arms, but you dropped your dagger and stomped your way back up to Olympus like a bratty child anyway. 

Zeus didn’t punish you for what you did, but he did say he’d be keeping a firm eye on you. You joined the hunters, much to your mothers disdain, and didn’t ever allow yourself to look back.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Wanna be with you everywhere

Surrounded by your earthly possessions, boxes upon boxes stacked and looming over you in your new home, you don’t know where to start. Steve reminds you that the most important thing is right in front of you (and has a box of his own for you to open). 

Word Count: 2.7k

Content / Warnings: This is fairly tame and sweet. Reader is overtired and overwhelmed, but other than that - total fluff. Moving in together, a brief sex mention, Steve being romantic and totally down bad for reader. Maybe a big question is on the cards, idk. 

Reader is referred to with one gendered honourific. (No spoilers…👀) I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible 🧡

If you are not 18+ please do press the back button

Author’s Note: Once again, soft Steve Harrington has invaded my brain. This is pretty short and sweet. Oh to feel safe and loved in his big beefy arms, amirite?

I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the love on Clean Slate & Pinch Me recently - it means a lot!!! Once again I had way too much fun on Canva... Let me know what you think / if you catch any typos!

Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

Boxes. Heavy, full and labelled with a blocky scrawl. They are everywhere, stacked by the coffee table you had thrifted, the big squishy armchair for you to read in. You haven’t seen so many since your high school weekend job filling shelves and scanning groceries and wearing your customer service smile until your cheeks ached. 

The smell of fresh paint and cardboard combined with the dry feeling that the boxes left on your hands makes you want to peel your skin off. You look around the room with your hands pressing into the small of your back while you stack more tasks on your mental to-do list. The room was empty a few hours ago, a total blank canvas. 

The floor calls, grounding you.

With a sigh that pulls from the tips of your toes, you lie back against the cool wood and stretch your arms out by your sides. This is where the couch will go when it arrives. You close your eyes and feel the all-over ache from packing, carrying and lifting. Before the carrying and lifting was days of packing and organising.

That’s when it dawns on you - you still need to unpack them all.

Tears push themselves up and you feel your ugly-cry face break the dazed-but-happy expression you had been wearing all day. All you want is a hot shower and your comfy new bed. And -

“Hey.”

Steve.

Your dry hands cover your face, swiping your wet cheeks as your boyfriend closes the door - the door to your first apartment together - and navigates his way around the boxes to get to you. His presence cuts short your catastrophising.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding almost panicked. “Do you hate it? I know the paint dried a little darker than we thought, but we can redo it. It’ll be okay.” Steve is quick to join you on the floor, lying on his side by you with one arm wrapped over your shaking body. “Babe…”

When you move your hands to look at Steve’s concerned face, you see that he looks as tired as you feel. Despite that, he’s still the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. His hair is crushed under a backwards baseball cap and there’s pizza sauce on his tshirt. His deodorant and aftershave has long worn off but you let him hold you, lying half on top of him on the floor, not ready or able to speak yet. Big hard-working hands sweep soothingly up and down your back. Steve’s good at that, letting you just cry it out, holding you steady and safe when you need to weep. He always seems to know what you need; a distraction or silence, gentle words or just the steady thud of his heart against your ear. 

Despite the sweat and dust, Steve presses kisses to your forehead as you slowly settle. The fact that he’s so handsome and nice to you makes you sob shakily one more time. 

“Just breathe, you’re okay.” 

Steve is calm, but you know that inside that he’s wracking his brains to get to the bottom of why the love of his life was crying in the middle of their brand new apartment while he was waving off the friends who had helped you move. Had he said something stupid, was the paint really that ugly… Steve didn’t let his mind even go near the idea that you might be second guessing moving in together.

When he sees you peering up at him, his heart beats double time like it always does when you look at him. His attention is back on you now, out of his own head. You can see the cogs turning in his head and feel worse for making him worry about you, feel insecure or like he was the reason for your tears. 

“Hi,” you whisper. “Sorry. Overwhelmed.” 

“Don’t say sorry, honey. It’s okay.” 

You rest your cheek on his chest again. His tshirt is stained wet from your tears now too but Steve doesn’t care.

You lie together on the floor, both aching and bone tired. From somewhere, you summon the energy to  squeeze Steve as tight as possible, needing him to know how much you adore him. He makes a small happy noise before returning the squish. 

“We’re here,” you murmur against his chest, before you free each other to lie side by side in the golden glow coming from the big un-curtained windows. 

“Here we are. Welcome home, baby,” Steve says, turning his head to look at you again. He covers your hand and stroked his thumb over your racing pulse. “What’s going on in that big juicy brain of yours, huh?” 

“Ew.” You laugh, wincing when your body reminds you that it has clocked out for the day, and meet Steve’s gaze. “All the boxes freaked me out. We still need to unpack everything, and the couch won’t fit if we don’t get some of them out of here -” Your voice shakes and catches and you make yourself take one slow deep breath. Steve squeezes you once, no rush. “I’m just so fucking tired, Stevie.” 

Steve gives you a little smile. “I bet. You’ve been running the show today, making sure everything is perfect.” Steve had been up before you, excited to get going, and had spent the day lugging boxes with Eddie, never letting you take the heavy ones. You had caught yourself staring at how his biceps bulged deliciously a couple of times - Steve had caught you too and made sure to come give you some kisses when his hands were free. And he had checked in with you, not wanting you to get too caught up in making everything perfect or taking on too much of the responsibility - you were just better organised than him. The brains to his brawn, though he knew you didn’t like when he thought like that.

He sits up, then stands, groaning like a man older than his twenty-odd years. He holds out his hands to help you up, and he puts his arms around you once you’re upright. 

“Everything’s where it needs to be. You and Nance had that list. Everything’s all colour coded.” You had both been armed with coloured markers and sticky notes to make sure the boxes were in the right rooms. “What’s the word? It’s meticulous, baby.” You can hear a smile in Steve’s low soft voice; he’s proud of himself for remembering and of you, for everything. It helps ease the tension bunched in your shoulders. 

He kisses your head with a fierce amount of love. “It doesn’t need to be perfect right away okay? We’re in this together and we’ll figure it out. All that matters is you and me, yeah? You and me in our first place together. S’already perfect for me.” 

Your heart hurts with how much love it holds for Steve Harrington. He’s right; all that matters is the two of you, boxes of bed sheets and belongings be damned. 

Steve starts a slow sway, his fingers tucked into the belt loops on the back of your old jeans as you settle your hands on the base of his neck. He hums a song you both loved, one that had come on the radio in a moment of pure fate when you started the short drive from his old place to your new one together. 

I want to be with you everywhere…

The smile Steve had graced upon you then was like pure gold and you turned the volume up loud, rolling down the windows as you sang together.

Now you feel his smile, wide and lovely, against your temple and peel back to look up at his face. “What’s the smile for, handsome?” 

“M’happy.” You see that boyish twinkle in his eyes, and when he smiles Steve looks so innocently happy, the little boy who had to grow up too quickly. You press up on your toes, ignoring the burn in your feet to lessen the gap between you. He is quick to meet you halfway and accepts the kiss you land on his smiling mouth. Steve’s joy is contagious and he is as generous sharing it with you as he is with his kisses. 

“I’m happy too, promise.” Foreheads pressed together, you close your eyes and let the calm feeling wash over you as Steve starts the sway again. You’re pressed together, head to toe.

“S’okay if you’re not. You don’t have to say you are if you feel shitty.” Steve’s voice tickles your cheek and he chases it with a kiss there. 

“I am. We’re going to be so happy here, Steve. I love this place.” You feel the truth of your words deep in your bones, beyond your aches and pains. “Love you.”

Your words make his heart zing. “Love you more,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his own as he kisses his way back to your lips. “M’happy with you wherever we are, I just want to be with you.” 

As you hold each other, swaying in the setting sunlight, you let the thought of unpacking shrink and enjoy the moment, calmness washing over you like a balm. Over the next few weeks and days you and Steve will place your things side by side, hang up pictures and clothes and fill the blank canvas. You’ll try the diner down the block for breakfast in the morning as a treat, and do your first grocery shop together. You have already promised each other that you’ll have sex in every room to christen the place (Steve’s idea, you loved it) and in a week or two you’ll invite your friends around for a party. You’ll make up the spare room for when the kids who aren’t kids anymore come to visit. There’s no rush, you have the rest of your lives to feather your nest together, find a bigger one when you’re ready.

You breathe him in, finding that scent that is simply Steve behind the fresh paint and sweat and the lingering smell of the pizza you shared with your best friends to say thank you for their help - the first party of many in your home together. 

Steve presses his love into you with his kisses and stroking hands, thinking of the only box that matters to him; a small ring-box housing soft gold and sparkling jewels that reminded him of you. It’s not in any of the cardboard towers, or the overnight bags with the basics for your first night and morning. The little green velvet box sits heavy in his back pocket, plucked from the Beemers glove compartment while he was waving Eddie and the girls off (all of them had whispered their good luck while they hugged Steve fiercely tight).

Seeing you in tears made him second guess his timing, but as he sways with you now he couldn’t be more sure that you’re the one he wants to marry. 

“Hey. Lemme take a picture of us,” he whispers, “The disposable still has a few shots left on it. Stay there.”

“Steve I look so gross,” you whine - but you have to admit it’s a sweet suggestion. His lips meet yours and he pecks the pout away. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says in a murmur against your lips. “We can show our grandkids someday. You’n me, young and cool in our first place together.” 

Steve’s heart beats double time at your grin and he makes your nose scrunch up when he dots kisses all over your face. “Wait there. The light is..” He kisses his own fingers with an over exaggerated ‘mwah’. 

He leaves you laughing as he dodges boxes on the way to quadruple check the ring and fetch the camera. 

You had both been snapping pictures all day, pictures that would end up in a photo album with little annotations of the date and who was in each shot; Steve & Robin hugging outside their apartment before hopping in the moving van, Eddie in an Iron Maiden tee with the sleeves cut off sticking his tongue out as he carried a box under one arm, you and Nancy deep in conversation on the sidewalk, you and Steve stealing a kiss in the empty kitchen (Nancy was stealthy with that one). There were three clicks left.

When Steve arrives back you’re poking through a box of books and thinking about how you’re going to stack them on the shelves (which will be dropped off tomorrow). Your smile when you see him lights up the room already glowing with the setting sun. You both think ‘how’d I ever get this lucky’ and find your way to each other, sharing another kiss before getting your picture taken. 

Steve stands in front of the windows, tucking you under his arm as you both make the most of the golden light illuminating your tired smiling faces. After the click, he rolls the film on. 

His heart beats hard and quick with anticipation, but he’s not nervous - he has never been so sure of a decision in his entire life. You are the one; his one.

Steve places the camera on the windowsill before taking your hands. “You’re the love of my life y’know?” 

You look up and nod, squeezing his hands. “Mhm. And you’re mine. I love you so much I could scream.” You mean it too, thinking about how you could open up the window right now and shout to the city that you love Steve Michael Harrington. 

He presses a single soft kiss to your forehead. “The best day of my life was the day you smiled at me in that little dive bar, baby. Ever since then, I knew I was a goner.” He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. “I don’t ever want anyone else. Waking up next to you every day, and going to sleep with you every night... I feel like I’m dreamin’ sometimes. Like, how’d I get this lucky?” Steve squeezes your hands three times ‘I love you’. “You’re my love, my best friend.” 

Your face hurts from smiling, about to quip that you promise not to tell Robin or Eddie, but instead you see Steve lowering himself down onto the floorboards - dropped down on one knee. 

For a moment your mind goes blank until you see that little green velvet box, which he flicks open to show you the ring inside. 

Steve says your name so quietly as he gazes up at you, “Will you marry me?” 

All capacity for speech evades you. Your focus is all on Steve, barely comprehending the gorgeous ring winking at you in his hands. Every cell of your body is screaming S T E V E. You manage to nod as more tears press and push up and spill down your cheeks. 

You let him take your hand to slide the ring on. A perfect fit. If you could think straight you would remember one of your favourite rings going missing for a week a while back - the culprit kneeling in front of you.

You pull him up this time, crushing your body to his as you babble ‘yes!’ a thousand times, even as he kisses you with his own wet cheeks pressing to yours. 

Everything feels soft around the edges, luminous and dreamlike, as you see Steve and his smile and his love for you in bright high definition. You take his face in your hands - the left one ever so slightly heavier now - and you bring your faces together. 

“Hi Future Mrs Harrington,” he whispers, each syllable filled with an almost-giggly bubbling joy. 

“Hi Mr Harrington,” you whisper back, feeling his hands squeezing your hips. You kiss him again, smiling too much to make it last pass a few slow romantic pecks and you’re just holding each other, glowing. 

In that moment everything is perfect, your previous sense of total overwhelm replaced by utter joy. Tired and still a little sweaty, dust on your jeans and your hair coming undone, you’re still the most beautiful creature Steve Harrington has ever laid eyes on - even more so now with the promise on your hand. 

Steve reaches out to take up the camera again. “Still got two more. Engagement pic for the grandkids?” he asks, and you practically squeal with delight when you realise he had it all planned. 

As he angles the camera in front of you both, hoping the light is still okay and that he’s not chopping off his own head, you hold your ring up to make sure it’s in frame. That picture, and the next one of you two sharing a kiss with diamonds glimmering in the dipping sunlight, will take pride of place in that little album of the day you moved in together, the day Steve Harrington asked you to marry him. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are absolutely cherished and adored!

Bonus next day diner breakfast Steve for the girlies - thank you for reading 🩷

[opheliajupiter99]

The Shadow Man (OUAW Horror Fanfic)

*The edges of the faded parchment of a missing poster flickered in a soft breeze, nailed into a post in the neon-tinged streets of Agwe, most walking past it without a second thought. The poster held the sketched image of a small Tabaxi boy, the writing beneath it detailing the boy to be of only six years of age, gone missing near the Magnolia Promenade, after his mother only briefly lost track of him while busy at the market*

*Soon, a pair of man walked past, standing close to each other as they glanced around the city. They were Kremy Lecroux and Gideon Coal; they had managed, by some twist of fate, to escape the Feywild with their lives, and while they did not fulfill their originally assigned quest, they escaped with enough treasures to pay off their debt. The plan was still to reopen the Carnivale, but Kremy, having reevaluated his past dirty deeds, deciding to take a year to relax, just himself and Gideon, to try and figure things out first*

*As they passed the post, Gideon's gaze caught sight of the poster, and stopped in his walk, nudging Kremy, who also turned to look at it* "Poor boy." *Gideon said softly, walking over towards the post to get a better look at the picture. He still couldn't really read, but he tried to memorize what the boy looked like, just in case* "Hmph." *Kremy said, thinking as he looked at the details* "The Promenade? That's odd...that's where the rich folk live, guards usually pay attention down there." *He thinks for another moment, then scowls* "Unless somebody pays em off, anyways..."

*A somber silence fell between the two of them at the thought. Gideon huffed* "Well...I wanna look around there, just in case, a'ight?" *Kremy nods* "Of course, Gid." *They did precisely that, walking down the cracked and faded streets that slowly dipped into the pristine, sparkling streets of the noble families of Agwe. They walked a bit, trying to figure out the spot closet to the market mentioned on the poster, looking up and down to try and find...well, anything really*

*Suddenly, they froze in their tracks at a sudden sound. It was a meow, fairly loud, the way a kitten might cry out when it's lost its mother, but it didn't quite sound like a normal cat either. They both whipped around towards the noise, and saw the tail end, quite literally, of what looked indeed like a young Tabaxi running past some neatly trimmed hedges and out of sight*

"Hey, kid! Wait!" *Kremy shouted, running off towards the child; he didn't want to spook them, but he swore to the Baron, even with that brief glance he could feel in his gut that was him. Gideon was about to run after as well, but he saw something yellow out of the corner of his eye, and for just a brief moment, for one of the few times in his life, he felt cold. He stopped, looking around, not sure what to do with the feeling, as fleeting as it was*

*Then he felt something tug at his left chain, not hard, but enough to make it lift up a bit before falling back to his side with a metallic jangle. He looked to his left, and saw standing there, a young Gatorfolk girl, in a bright yellow dress tied cutely with a bow around her waist, matching shoes, and a matching, wide brimmed flower hat, that she had to raise her head fully to look past and up towards him*

*They stood there, staring at each other in silence for a few moments. She looked normal, but he still felt cold - which perhaps if he wasn't a Fire Genasi wouldn't have put him off quite so much - and her expression seemed so oddly somber* "...Sweetie, a-are you okay?" *He began, still a bit unsettling but didn't want to show it when she was already upset* "I don't think it's safe to be around these parts right now. If ya need some help, I-"

*He was interrupted by Kremy returning, walking back up to him with a haunted look of his own, turning to face him* "What is it?" *Kremy was silent for a moment, fiddling with his clawed fingers* "I...I-I dunno. I tried to follow after that kid, at least ask him what he might've seen but..." *Even with trying to be more open, he was still hesitant to be open in these kinds of situations. What was he supposed to tell Gid, anyways? That he couldn't find the kid that should've been right ahead of him and got a weird feeling? The kid probably just ran a different direction, that's all..*

*He thought this, until he noticed Gideon looked similarly unsettled* "What's wrong, Gid?" *He stood there frozen for a moment, before he slowly looked towards his left side once more. The girl was gone. Of course, she could've indeed just run off, but...he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. And while he might've not believed his own hunch on the matter, he certainly believed Kremy's. He looked back to Kremy, and two stared at each other in silence*

[des302-emergingtechnologies]

Week 2

This weeks was a fairly productive week. Feeling a bit more confident than last time.

What I've done this week:

Updated my project timeline

worked out my methodology after speaking with the stream leader.

did some preliminary research in the form studies ranging from art therapy, virtual reality, depression and the different forms of depression, virtual characters and their socio emotional benefits....

Developed hypothetical vision based off research

created a rough scope/limit of the project.

My thoughts and feelings on what I've done this week:

I struggled with how I would plan and write my project timeline last week. However, this week I decided to use the double diamond as a rough guide to help plan my project timeline in phase. This made things a lot easier for me to manage as I could focus on one phase at a time and not be overwhelmed.

I tend to struggle with finding a suitable methodology and often revert back to the standard double diamond of all of the design methodologies. In the past, I got a lot of feedback commenting that my chosen methodology require more elaborations or needed to be more distinguished. As I mentioned last week on needing some guidance, I spoke with my stream leader and told them how I tend to work and the type of researching I was used to. (note: I am a Design and Fine Arts conjoint. I am used to researching a topic/skill/artist, analysing what I've learnt and attempt to apply it to my work.) Together we were able to figure I had a Heuristic approach to research and was suited to practice lead research, learning by doing.

Most of the research I gathered are preliminary research to help better understanding the brief. Some are from 300 but further expanded and explored through new and additional literature that look at the topics separately and a few more additional readings that look at the more socio emotional side of things relating to virtual characters.

I have a hypothetical vision that was developed based of what I've researched. However, I'm just unsure on what emerging technologies I want to use. I think my vision is flexible enough to be able to be adapted in to a VR or a mobile version. But that mostly depends on the inclusions of a virtual character. I did get a passing comment from my peer to perhaps explore something else other than art therapy in conjunction to whatever emerging technology I decide on. I consider their comment, but felt that a lot of the one I had decided on other people were already research and I didn't want to compete with them. Plus I feel I have a better connection with art therapy than any other topics. Not because I've been to art therapy or have engaged with it in any formal way, but I often found that creating art was therapeutic for me. It was what drove me to continuously pursue it in my studies and was a safe way for me to express myself or refocus my attention from other studies or work. I felt slightly offended by that peers comment but I know they only meant well and was trying to provide and option for me to look at other paths I could take for this project.

I have created a rough scope/ limits for my project and have made some key points/elements I want to include. I am limited by my technological skills and the short 12 week time frame we were given. I will need to get people within my class to test my prototypes and not my target audience. due to ethical reasons. Whatever, solution I come up with I want to include some type of drawing program wether in VR or on a screen. The project should involve some type of VR environment and or virtual character.

Other thoughts: I still need to start on the ethics module and further update my micro board and make a presentation for week 4 but that's week 3 me's problem. I feel more sure of my self but shouldn't get too cocky.

I will try to keep a weekly schedule of Sunday posts.

[ghost-proofbaby]

Congrats on 1k!! 🖤 Absolutely adore your writing!

Request: 💚 Eddie Munson and

I almost picked catastrophic blues but then I remember the heartbreak that was Maroon and I chickened out. 😂

thank you so much!!! <3 my apologies for maroon because that one... whew. also, my apologies because this one did turn out just a little angsty! but it's more of a brief glimpse of hurt/comfort!! i swear!!!! i just wanna hold eddie munson real tight after all the shit he went through.

warnings: mention of eddie's time in the upside down/events of season 4, and vague description his ptsd from it all.

1k celebration - come party with me!

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He promised to always be by your side, and he had meant it. 

It had been a week from Hell. A whirlwind of emotions, of rumors, of terrifying monsters and of grand sacrifice. And when it all came to a head, when he was gripping that make-shift rope of sheets and staring up at a bouncing Dustin Henderson, screaming for him to come on, all he could think about was you.

For a moment, he almost let go of the sheets. He almost made the most damning decision of his life. It would have surely gotten him killed, to have tried to buy more time that, as it turns out, they didn’t need. He probably would have been torn apart, limb by limb, and left to die the unsung hero. 

But then he thought about you. 

He thought about you, the best damn thing to ever happen to him. The person he swore to always come home to. His Sunday mornings, his Tuesday afternoons. His summer fling and winter love. The one person he promised to always be there for. 

He couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. His knuckles had turned white enough to match the filthy sheets, and one brutal tug at a time, he’d lurched himself through the gate, tumbling back into the normal world, a world that had you. 

He’d come home to you. A soldier half his weight now, mind muddled with trauma and memories of monsters he can’t seem to erase, but he’d done it – he’d come home to you. 

The nights were always the worst, when it was all said and done. Terrors would tear him from his sleep. Dreams in which he didn’t climb the rope, in which he’d tried to be a hero despite Harrington’s warning and it had backfired upon him. He saw the haunting image of Chrissy’s face, he saw Patrick’s body floating over the lake. He saw Max, barely hanging on by a thread in her hospital bed, having gotten out of the mess alive by the skin of her teeth. But then he’d wake up, and your face was always the first one he saw in his sudden consciousness. You were always there, ready to hold him and console him for as long as it would take before the sobs trailed off and the trembling finally reduced to a small shake in his hands. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” he mumbles one night in particular, after a fairly bad nightmare. He felt guilty these days, waking you up in his sweat and panic. He’d tried to convince you to go home, to maybe even let him sleep on the couch whenever Wayne was off at work (because, as it turns out, the world nearly ending doesn’t call for the plant shutting down). 

You would never allow it. Each night, you dragged him to his bed, and you curled up beside him, a glowing warmth against his side that served as a reminder that it’s okay. He survived, the evil was defeated, and he came back to you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, letting his head rest against your chest, fingertips scratching against his scalp in soothing motions, “I don’t mind. I’ve got you, I’ll keep you safe here with me.” 

The day he had found you after the dreadful events, explaining it all in overwhelming detail as every word spilled from his mouth before he could stop it, you’d clung to him tightly. You’d held him so tightly that for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. 

He’d never needed a hug like that more. He would have let you suffocate him if you wanted to. It would have been worth it, to survive and not die the unsung hero only to go out as a whisper wrapped in your arms. 

The world is quiet outside his bedroom window as you continue to soothe him. Soft traces across his cheeks, lingering kisses pressed into the crown of his head, steady breathing patterns syncing up. The weight of him presses heavy between your legs as he relaxes, and you find your palm smoothing out over his spine, shirt still a bit damp with sweat. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into the darkness. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t strike fear in him. 

“For what?” 

“For being here. For loving me.” 

He doesn’t see the soft smile that tugs at your lips, curling gently with gratefulness. But he feels the way you hold him a bit closer. 

“Always. I’ll always be here, and I’ll always love you.” 

He may have been the one to make the decision to come home to you, but you were the one to make the decision to stand at his side, sturdy and unmoving as you braved the stormy weather with him. 

A promise to always be by his side, and you meant it.

[unhingedselfships]

Two Friend-Zoned Frenemies Come To Something That Vaguely Resembles An Understanding (pt. 1/4)

(CW : brief mention of injury/blood)

Mine liked to think himself a pretty good actor. 

Perhaps that was uncharitable.

He was, truly, good at pretending.

Or well, at the very least, he'd kept Daigo-sama from realizing the disdain he held for this… girl, he'd moved across the world.

She knew. Despite all his faux niceties and forced pleasantry. It vexed him a bit, the way she saw through him, but she did nothing about it, so he let this… stalemate, of theirs, hold.

His doubts weren't without merit. No one had even known this girl existed, and most of them still didn't. And Daigo kept a tight hold on any information. 

Oh sure, it was easy enough to find plenty. Her name, background, school records, and general history. All as easy to dig up as any civilian. 

But the answers Mine wanted? Daigo was next to silent. How long they'd known each other? (A few years, we’ve talked for a while) Why she was here? (She needs to be, it wasn’t good for her there anymore) Why no one knew about her? (Give her time to settle, Mine, it's a big change)

Useless. All of it.

So yes. Mine was frustrated. 

But she smiled, and played along with his faux friendship, brushing off any frostiness with an easy shrug and casual acceptance. He didn't trust it. Or her.

So when it came up that they were leaving town for a weekend, he quickly inserted himself. Can’t have the boss traveling unprotected, but no one else can know yet, so obviously it has to be him to come along right? 

Daigo tried to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but Mine found himself mildly surprised to have the girl backing him up.

“Actually, it's probably not a terrible idea, Dai. I know you think it’ll be fine, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. And whatever else he is, Mine is capable.”

He felt like there was an insult in there, but he let it slide. She did help him win the argument after all. And even backed him up when he suggested an area he knew fairly well.

Any goodwill he had towards her for the help, was eaten up by having to chase down the city streets after her. Despite the growing irritation, he dutifully followed along after the girl, as she darted from shop to shop. At least Daigo seemed to be enjoying himself. How the man could be content with the girl’s endless nattering he’d never understand.

(He ignored the way she set anything she liked or found interesting back, choosing to refrain, and asking for nothing, despite the near “free pass” Daigo had given her. The only things she seemed to bring forth were things she found for the man himself.

“This would look good on you, don’t you think?”

“Look at this doofy ass plushie! Makes me think of you~”

“Oh this would look really nice in your office, matches that fancy ass letter opener.”

Not that any of this stopped Daigo from picking up a thing or two he’d noticed her eyeing anyway. He was going to spoil the ridiculous thing.)

Presently, they were trying to find a specific shop she had wanted to see, a bit off the main market streets. She insisted on navigating there herself, phone in hand, brow creased, and eyes darting about the streets. How difficult could it be to follow basic directions, honestly.

Mine let out a more undignified sigh than he’d normally allow himself. This girl was really testing him. 

The grin Daigo shot back at him over his shoulder helped soothe his nerves.

He tried to relax a bit, tilting his head back to the sky, as he trailed along after the pair, turning down some smaller side street that would supposedly cut through to their destination. Absently he noted a bit of shouting off a side street, but dismissed it. These places always got rowdy, it was probably some idiots having indulged a bit too much at a local bar. 

The girl-

“She has a name, Mine.”

“Irrelevant.”

-paused, just a slight ways ahead. Puzzlement scrunched her nose, as she stared down at her phone. 

Dismissing her, he turned his attention to Daigo, who had taken the pause to speak to him. Exchanging quiet, casual, words about the area and where to go for dinner, Mine let himself further relax. Perhaps he could let himself properly enjoy this weekend afterall. 

Or not. 

The shouting from just a moment ago had proven itself to be an altercation. One that spilled into the street they occupied. 

While irritating, it was an easy enough matter to deal with. A handful of rowdy drunks would never be a problem for him or Daigo, no matter how belligerent and determined they might be. The presence of the extra was an unneeded complication, but by no means an insurmountable one. 

In the focus of battle, Mine ignored the sound of shattering glass off to his side. 

A mistake.

One he’d remember bitterly.

“Daigo!” 

The man in question had turned quickly at her alarmed shout, putting himself off balance, likely the only reason she was able to move him at all. And move him she did. Bodily throwing herself into him she shoved him aside, and herself between him and the sharp glass of the broken bottle one of the drunken idiots wielded.

Re-catching his footing, Daigo yanked the girl out of the way, and Mine moved in to quickly deal with the attacker. He made quick work of the rest, hardly even a scuffle, and turned back towards his companions.

“Let me look, K,” Daigo tried to get the girl to lessen her grip over her own arm, blood seeping between her fingers.

“It’s fine, it’s not that ba-” she cut her own statement off with a string of actually quite inventive curses. 

“Yeah I’m not buying it sweet girl, you’re bleeding all over the place. We need to get you to someone.”

The adrenaline was wearing off quickly, and she was losing her composure, biting off half babbled protests and tears overflowing. 

In a fluid motion, Daigo had scooped the girl off her feet, and turned to Mine.

“Mind finding us a clinic? She’s probably going to need stitches.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Mine led them off in the direction he remembered a sympathetic clinic being. Somewhere small and discrete, expensive but trustworthy. 

He’d get them there without incident and salvage their weekend.

For Daigo.

—

The girl sat quietly, arm stitched and wrapped, while Daigo spoke to the doctor about how best to handle care and healing going forward.

“He’s such a mother hen sometimes,” she spoke quietly, fondness tangible in her words.

“Are you an idiot?”

She looked up at him, blinking, “Well… Yes,” she nodded, “But I don’t see where you’re going or what point you’re trying to make.”

“Why would you do something so foolish? You should have stayed out of the way.”

“Probably. But he would have gotten Dai. Better me than him. Don’t you agree?”

She met his gaze, steady, sure, and painfully knowing.

“Perhaps there are some things we can agree on, K.”

She smiled softly at him, sad eyed and terribly aware. 

An acknowledgement. 

“It’s nice to have some common ground.”

[thebeautyoffanfics]

May I have a Teru, Hanako and Kou headcanons with an s/o who accidentally bit their tongue too hard making it bleed. They inhaled so they choke anc cough the blood out and the boys get absolutely terrified thinking their s/o is dying. Thank you.

teru minamoto x gn!reader, hanako x gn!reader, kou minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: sure thing! ahh i keep giggling, i love this concept- thank you so much for requesting!! <3

warnings: blood mention?

word count: collectively, 997

Teru Minamoto <3

The day was genuinely starting off to be a nice one. School was breezing past, and it was now lunchtime. Teru was happy to get the brief break, and even happier to be spending it with you- there was some light conversation being carried on between the two of you, but it was mainly a nice silence, as the two of you enjoyed your food.

“So, did anything exciting happen, (Y/N)?” Teru asked you, though he knew the answer was most likely a no. You held up a finger, signaling him to wait a moment as you swallowed your food. As you did so, your teeth dug into your tongue. The pain made you inhale sharply, forgetting that you were mid-bite, and thus beginning to cough. 

“(Y/N)? Did you choke?” Teru asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, grabbing a napkin to cough into. Once the fit died down a bit, you pulled the napkin from your mouth and cleared your throat. You opened your mouth to apologize, but Teru quickly interrupted you.

“(Y/N)? What the- did you just cough up blood-?” He questioned, grabbing your hands and trying to lift you. His voice was relatively calm, but you could see his face pale a bit. “Ah, no-” “You should go to the nurse. That’s obviously not something that should happen-”

“Teru, I’m alright,” “That’s-” “I bit my tongue, Teru.”

He was definitely unsure for a second, but he knew you wouldn’t lie to him. After you stuck your tongue out a bit to show the slight gash, he sighed, running a hand through his hair semi-dramatically. “I’m so glad- I thought that you were having some sort of deadly fit.”

Teru definitely (jokingly) scolds you a bit after that, telling you that you need to be more careful- after all, should the food have been in your mouth you may have genuinely choked, tsk tsk. He makes sure you know that the teasing is lighthearted, but expect him to make lighthearted banter any time you cough (or bite your tongue). 

Hanako <3

Hanako was fairly proud of himself. The mokke had brought the toilet ghost a piece of candy, and he was quick to recognize that it was your favorite! He kept it safe in his pocket throughout the day, waiting happily for the school day to be over. After all, he wanted to give it to you in-person, not just drop it off in your locker.

Soon enough, once the school day was over, he’d cheerfully tell you that he had a gift for you. While you were probably unsure at first, as it was hard to be sure if his cheeky grin was genuine or mischievous, once he placed the candy in your hands there was no more doubt. Quite content with the treat, you’d unwrap it and pop it into your mouth. 

You began to clean the bathroom before Nene and Kou arrived, chewing happily on the candy. As you did so, you felt your teeth go not only through the candy- but straight into your tongue as well. You gasped at feeling the sharp pain, inhaling too suddenly and beginning to choke. Luckily, the candy stayed to the side of your mouth, so you at least weren’t choking on that. 

You coughed violently, holding your elbow to your mouth. “(Y/N)? Are you dying?” Hanako asked jokingly, as you coughed. However, once you pulled your elbow from your mouth, he grew uneasy. “(Y/N)?! Are you alright?”

Though his concern confused you a bit, you focused on the blood on your elbow. “Ew…” You sighed, walking over to the sink to wash off your arm. “‘Ew’?? That’s- it’s gross, but what if you’ve got blood in your lungs?!”

“Huh? No, I bit my tongue… wait- were you worried?”

“...well- this is a one-man show sorta thing, (Y/N). I don’t need another bathroom ghost, it would be inconvenient. What are people supposed to say? Hanako-san and (Y/N)-san, are you there? It’s wordy, you know?” “Alright, I understand- I’m not dying, so don’t worry about the ‘inconvenience’.”

Kou Minamoto <3

Oh, this poor boy… poor little Kou.

Kou had probably made you cookies or something- he was really embarrassed about it, but! He cares about you, and they’re already made, so… he’ll try to act confident, or as confident as he can while blushing, avoiding eye contact, and rubbing his neck, and give them to you. Once you show that you appreciate the gesture, he’ll get a bit less shy, and take a seat next to you. 

You munched happily on a cookie, closing your eyes happily as Kou rambled on about nonsense. Caught up in how nice the cookies tasted, the happy moment was put on hold the moment your teeth crushed your tongue. The pain and food in your mouth made you choke a bit, and you began to cough into your elbow. 

Immediately, Kou was concerned, quickly handing you several napkins and making sure that you weren’t choking to the death. However, the moment he saw a bit of blood on the corner of your mouth and napkin, his concern went up by a whole lot. You thought he was panicked before- haha, just wait to be bombarded with this precious boy’s concern.

“(Y/N), OH MY GOSH- YOU’RE DYING?!” “I-” “YOU’RE COUGHING UP BLOOD- WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE- TO A HOSPITAL-” “Kou, I’m-” “(Y/N), NOT TO SCARE YOU BUT, YOU’RE LUNGS ARE FILLING WITH BLOOD AS WE SPEAK-”

“KOU, I BIT MY TONGUE, PLEASE, DUDE, DARLING, MY PRECIOUS BOYFRIEND, CALM DOWN.”

Instantly flustered, but he’s still unsure for a moment. He’ll make sure that you’re positive, cringing a bit when you showed the fresh teeth marks in your tongue. Once he knows that you aren’t dying, he’s definitely going to be slightly humiliated. Please, reassure him that you don’t think of him any less, and/or that you think it was nice that he cares that much, and he’ll eventually return to his less-flustered self.

[arvandus]

Hi! Congrats on 750 followers - I'm actually a fairly new one :) I was wondering if it's not too much to ask, for the event, could I request some domestic headcanons for Aizawa x female reader? Thank you!

Absolutely! I love this request, because Aizawa + domesticity = all I want in life.

Domestic Aizawa x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some soft angst, topics of mental health, and a (brief) mention of kids (discussion/planning/safety).

Word Count: 998

🖤 Aizawa will absolutely make you stay in bed with him when he gets a day off. He will just want to snuggle and rest with you all day, having quiet little conversations beneath the covers.

🖤 On days that he has to be up before you (which is most days), he will make coffee (or tea, your choice) for the both of you, leaving you a fresh cup in the microwave to keep it warm.

🖤 Will also leave you little “I love you” sticky notes around the house for you to find randomly when he’s not home. On the mirror in the bathroom when you’re brushing your teeth, on your mug that’s sitting in the microwave, on you binder…

🖤 Can cook, but doesn’t do it often; saves it for special days like birthdays, anniversaries, or if you’ve texted him that you’ve had a particularly grueling day at work.

🖤 He’s not super messy, but he’s not super clean either. Sometimes leaves dirty clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink, and his paperwork on the table.

🖤 He WILL help out with chores, though. You cook, he washes dishes or vice versa depending on the situation. He’ll take out the trash and vacuum. Will even run a load of laundry, although he might need reminding sometimes.

🖤 Loves laying in your lap after a hard day and having his hair played with. 10/10 will fall asleep on you.

🖤 Will melt if you give him a shoulder/neck massage after having a particularly active day of hero work, but might be less receptive to this if he’s in an emotionally dark place. If that’s the case, cuddles and gentle pets are probably better for him. Don't ask any questions or try to get info out of him... just be there for him.

🖤 Loves to sit and just… watch you sometimes. You’ll be writing something, reading something, playing on your phone, doing chores or whatnot. You’ll look up and just so happen to catch him watching you over his own paperwork, his dark eyes soft. Won’t even bother to look away when you catch him, too. He’ll just raise an eyebrow at you and engage in a staring contest as he sips his coffee until you either look away embarrassed or come over to plant a kiss on his lips. If you do choose to look away, then he’ll set his things down and come get that kiss from you himself.

🖤 Will also love it when you snuggle against him, whether it be on the couch or in bed.

🖤 He’ll read to you sometimes if he finds something interesting or amusing. A news article, a section from a book he’s enjoying, or even his student’s more entertaining papers.

🖤 If you like to sing, he loves to hear it. Doesn’t matter if your singing is good or not… just hearing your voice around the house makes him feel warm and content.

🖤 Would totally want to own multiple cats with you. Would probably get one for Christmas and say it’s for you, but really you both know it’s for him…

🖤 He’ll wake up from nightmares sometimes, and in those moments he needs nothing more than to be held by you so he can listen to your steady heartbeat as he tries to calm his own. Will likely need to stay up a little bit afterward, probably watching some late-night TV in bed.

🖤 He’ll be there for you too, of course, at least on the nights he’s able to be home. He’s excellent emotional support; he’ll want to know just how to hold you, how to take care of you, and will know just what to say that will support you in the best way possible. He’s not a huge talker, but when he does, he chooses his words carefully and they always land right where they’re supposed to.

🖤 He has a very open, honest communication style. Trust is huge for him, and is the most important gift he can give to you. In general, relationships are a Big Deal for him, and his standards are high - he takes his role as your partner very, very seriously and expects the same from his partner. No tolerance for drama and dishonesty.

🖤 Opening up may be hard for him sometimes, especially if it has to do with the darker, more violent side of his career and/or his past. But just be patient with him, let him know you’re there for him whenever he’s ready. Eventually he’ll learn to lean on you and when he does, he’ll wonder how he managed to carry the weight of all of those things without you. But don’t expect him to share everything. He cares about you and will choose to stay silent on certain things if he knows they’re triggering for you. Besides, he knows that while you want to support him as his partner, you’re not his therapist. There are health services in place for heroes who find themselves struggling with mental health, and he would sooner go speak to them rather than burden you with things you can’t (and shouldn’t) handle.

🖤 Keeping you safe is a top priority for him, especially considering his job. If he feels you’re in danger in any way, he’ll do whatever he can to protect you; make sure heroes are situated around your property as guardians or move you to a safe house if necessary. Might even find a way to have you stay at the UA dorms with him, especially on nights that he’s pulling the nightshift there.

🖤 Wants kids, but knows that his job is too dangerous and time consuming for such a responsibility, and his work is too important to him to give up. There would need to be a lot of discussion and a lot of planning before he even begins to consider it. That being said, he will ALWAYS practice safe sex.

[delimeful]

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  

-

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.

[solomonish]

way to go mc, you’ve allowed yourself to be poisoned (nowdateables)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

find the brothers here!

When you start coughing:

You’re at a sort of banquet when it happens, which is as embarrassing for you as it is horrifying for him

At first, the brother nearest you just assumes you’re choking, but just as your coughing gets loud enough to attract attention you’re already falling to the ground, covering your mouth.

Diavolo immediately moves towards you but he’s ushered away because nobody realizes it was a fumble on the new chef’s part and can’t take the risk of it being some kind of botched assassination attempt, and some of his staff have to drag him away as he watches helplessly over his shoulder

He sends Barbatos to check on you and sees him kneeling beside Simeon, who is already focusing on you, when he leaves the room.

Taking care of you afterwards:

What he couldn’t do when you were facing the brunt of the poison, he makes up for in taking care of you afterwards.

You wake up in a soft bed, much bigger than any you’ve ever been in before. He’s not touching you, but he is watching you as he lies on his side next to you, propping his head up on one hand. His eyes seem to glow in the dark room, and you think for a moment “huh, funny how this should be something that scares me to death.”

Diavolo is normally a pretty boisterous guy, but when he sees you’re awake and smiles at you, you see the softer, more serious side of him.

Diavolo tries to insist that you either go to the human realm for care or allow him to bring someone, but you point out that the whole program he’s got going on is a little abnormal and it would probably take too long for them to adjust.

He settles for someone you know, like Satan, Simeon or Solomon. He treats them with such firmness, though, you see their eyes flicker to you like “?? is this the same person?”

Diavolo is with you every spare moment he can get: in between meetings, cancelling any non-essential tasks, taking paperwork into the room and sitting with you while he does it

Lucifer probably has a sleepless week ahead of him, picking up his slack :(

Is very gentle with you and lets you take as much time as you need off from school

Afterwards, does thorough checks on his cooking staff and starts drafting mandates to add human-safe options in any restaurant or other eatery you choose

even asks for your input on any human dishes you think should be recreated. the food industry may hate you but hey, now you get to eat the Devildom version of your favorite food wherever you go!

When you start coughing:

Barbatos would never accidentally poison you. He is too practiced in his diligence. He would also never allow you to accidentally poison yourself - the watchful eye he keeps on the prince is not reserved for him.

If you were to somehow be poisoned, accidentally or due to the ill will of somebody else, he wouldn’t be in the same room.

That’s not to say he isn’t immediately alerted and, if he’s close by, he’s making his way to you immediately.

Barbatos has a relatively calm and even pleasant demeanor, but the solemn frown he has on his face when he enters the room silences any chaos your fainting might have caused.

Taking care of you afterwards:

When Barbatos needs to give stellar care, he just defaults to the royal treatment. lucky you, right?

He doesn’t have the most time to stop by and check on you - and the brothers probably whisked you away to the House of Lamentation before he could offer you a place closer to him. (they have the Devildom’s most capable medical staff on hand, yes?)

He definitely does visit you - sometimes Diavolo arrives under the guise of having to talk to Lucifer and lets Barbatos go to you, others he just shows up.

Definitely scrutinizes every little thing the brothers are doing for you and then decides to do things himself.

Soon enough he has traded out your pillows and blankets for much softer ones from the palace, and he makes sure you’re equipped with any potions or even human painkillers you may need while your body recovers.

If you ask him why he’s getting so into it, he just says “What can I say? I only know how to give the best treatment. I’ve had plenty of practice with My Lord.”

When he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead, give him a smirk and ask “oh? is this part of the special treatment Diavolo gets too?”

He’ll just give you a wry smile. You’re lucky he’s still got to treat you gently. “Save such jest for Lucifer, my dear.”

When you start coughing:

He probably did it himself

Everybody already knows his reputation with preparing food, and after you live for however many years and plant names change, you forget some of the names of what is and isn’t poisonous to a regular human.

When you start coughing, he isn’t even concerned - it’s more of an “ah shit, here we go again” reaction because he’s used to this

It isn’t until you fall on the floor that he gets...suspicious.

“Come on MC, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” He asks, not even bothering to hide his disappointment

It isn’t until you don’t answer and he can hear you practically wheezing that he realizes what he’s done

He kneels down to the ground beside you and rubs your back in an attempt to show that he realizes what is going on and looks at the counter, where some of the ingredients he used are still sitting

He stares at a devildom plant that looks suspiciously like mint for a few moments before it clicks that it’s well liked in the devildom for the intense burning sensation it gives

Taking care of you afterwards:

Solomon is as adept at poison remedies as he is at accidentally poisoning people. (he wasn’t always immortal, after all. he’s had to live with his dangerous curiosity way before he figured that out.)

He’d keep you in Purgatory Hall for the first day, seeing the sorry state you were in.

Would offer you his bed to rest while he sits cross legged on the ground next to you, back against the bed with a spell book. Sometimes he’ll crack open an easy one and talk you through some of the simpler spells, and others he reads it for himself while you rest.

Isn’t big on the proactive care but all you need to do is say his name and he’s ready to get anything you need <3

Only tells the brothers that you’re staying the night because he doesn’t want them to kick the door down. Only tells them why because Asmo started making assumptions in the group chat

Everybody afterwards will tell you that honestly, what else did you expect to happen? It’s Solomon’s cooking, MC. Really.

Solomon figures you’re fine figuring out what foods are safe on your own, but since it was someone you supposedly trusted that poisoned you, he finds himself eyeing any food given to you by a friend. However, since HE was the one who actually poisoned you, this most often ends in intense stare-offs that you have to break up

When you start coughing:

Angels don’t have to be as careful as humans - after all, their lives and bodies aren’t nearly as fragile as yours is.

He doesn’t notice that there’s something in the dish you can’t eat, but he does notice the moment you realize something is wrong.

Watching a human realize that they’ve just put their life in danger is a horrible thing, and the look in your eyes sent his blood pressure skyrocketing before your coughing even got super bad.

He can see your lips swelling and that’s when he looks at the salad on your plate.

He doesn’t dare leave your side, and instead opts to send an emergency message to EVERYONE.

Surprisingly, the “MC. POUSOND. NOW. 💀” gets the message across fairly efficiently.

Taking care of you afterwards:

Being under the care of an angel is a heavenly experience indeed.

Simeon is allowed to stay with you while you recover, offering you multiple soothing drinks and chapsticks to help alleviate your pain.

He keeps your room clean and cool so your environment is as peaceful as can be!

Any gifts the brothers offer, he gives to you personally.

He jokingly offers to spoon-feed you, and if you take him up on the offer you’re both blushing by the end of it.

Once you’re better, he’ll find you at lunch and cheerfully remind you to look what’s on your plate. if you brush him off, he’ll just smile and say something like “don’t you remember what happened last time?” but his smile says something dangerous

When you start coughing:

HE. FREAKS. OUT.

Most likely to think this was a direct attack on you and he’s ready to throw hands. Simeon has to place a hand on his shoulder to get him to calm down.

His voice gets higher the more he fights to get close to you, and Simeon starts gently leading him away while sending concerned glances over his shoulder

Taking care of you afterwards:

The first time he brings you sweets and the demons feel the need to check it over and refuse to give it to you he almost cries

He’s not the one who hurt you, and he worked hard on those!!

Simeon tells him that your stomach might be upset still and that makes him feel a little better, because at least he didn’t directly offend you like that.

Will get “angry” (read: pouty) if you don’t let him PERSONALLY inspect what you’re eating for anything poisonous

Can be found at the kitchen table in Purgatory Hall, hunched and asleep as he drools over cookbooks with human-safe recipes 

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

taglist : @criminalmindsvibez @moreidstrobed @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @temily @enbyspencer @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

[lovelyspencers]

Both Sides Like Chanel

“I see both sides like chanel,

see on both sides like chanel.”

Synopsis: Spencer and fem!Reader have been dating for a while now and there is something that Spencer hasn’t trusted anyone else with that he wants to share with her

Content Warning: mentions of drug addiction, allusions to sex, brief mention of internalized homophobia

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: this is my first fanfiction and I’m not entirely sure how tumblr works yet but it is my mission to do something about the lack of bi!Spencer representation

Compared to his colleagues and friends, Spencer was a fairly private person. He liked to keep things to himself because his life centered around repetitious disappointments. So, he was content that his private life was not set on a stage, his misery displayed for everyone to see.

But then he fell in love with you the minute you walked into the bullpen and bumped into him, leaving your belongings all scattered on the marble floor. Spencer was never one for touch but when he took your hand to sweep you off the ground, butterflies filled his stomach like the air on a humid summer’s day.

After a few years of friendship, his adoration for you grew as easily as ivy on an abandoned house and it was on New Year’s Day that the team celebrated in Rossi’s mansion that his slightly intoxicated self decided that he was not able to hold it in any longer.

You had sneaked off to Rossi’s backyard after Garcia had gotten a bit of too affectionate and randomly started kissing everyone.

Both of you were slightly buzzed, your head laid in his lap as he explained the constellations to you. He wished that the sky above you was the only thing that filled his mind, but when he looked at you with your skin slightly flustered from the alcohol and your lips pursed as in deep thought, all that he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you.

It wasn’t the first time, the thought floated around in his mind. It had been so crucial in fact that the thought of your lips softly pressed on his played in his head like a film reel every night, unable to give him the sweet escape of sleep.

So, when the blank sky was filled with multicolored fireworks, the moonlight illuminated the complexion of your face and cheers erupted from the silence surrounding you without a second thought, he leaned in to kiss you.

You tasted like champagne and the strawberry lipstick you obsessively put on whenever you got anxious and to Spencer, he felt as if he had found the missing puzzle piece he’d been seeking for all his life.

And then like they always did, his thoughts began rushing through his mind like cars during rush hour and he instantly pulled back.

You were gonna hate him and then he would lose the only person he trusted with all his being and maybe you’d tell Penelope and everyone would laugh at him for believing that someone as amazing as you would ever-

But before his poisonous thoughts got the best of him, you grabbed the sides of his face and connected your lips with his again, filling the entirety of his body with pure bliss.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you to do that.” Your voice vibrated against his lips and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his face in the process.

The two of you could have kissed for only seconds or even hours because as he finally experienced what it felt like to be utterly yours, none of the things surrounding you mattered to him in the slightest.

All that mattered was that his biggest dream of your heart belonging to him entirely finally came true and he had no intention to ever let it go.

But even the most perfect moments couldn’t last forever and in this case, it was disturbed in the figment of the people the two of you considered family.

At first, you both didn't notice the footsteps on the grass, too caught up in trying to pour every stolen glance and hidden adoration in the simplicity of a kiss.

It wasn’t until cheers filled the silence around you that you hesitantly broke apart and were greeted with the sight of the team who all had smirks plastered on their faces.

To his delight, you didn’t entirely pull away from him like he thought you would instead you got off his lap to lazily wrap your arms around his torso. Subconsciously he pressed a kiss to your temple erupting even more amusement from the people watching you.

“About damn time.” Emily was the first to break out of her trance. Soon, congratulations were shared and the team tried to discreetly exchange money since they seemed to have some kind of bet going on. Even Hotch had a rare smile on his face and it was without a doubt the most beautiful start in the new year he could have ever wished for.

“I love you,” you muttered as you hid your face in his chest, and though there was no way the team could have heard what you told him, the smile on his face told them everything they needed to know.

“I love you too.”

He wished more than anything else that your love story could have ended that way and you lived happily ever after but this wasn’t a movie and the truth was that relationships were work. Work he was more than willing to put effort in but work nonetheless.

You loved each other dearly but you weren’t perfect and neither was he. Most of your fights revolved around his fear of vulnerability and even though he spent years building a wall around his heart so no one could ever shatter it again, he loved you far more than his self preservation so he tried his hardest.

And there was one particular thing, he always wanted to tell you or anyone who he felt earned his trust.

Throughout his life, his trust had been broken many times. So without even realizing it, there was a barrier between the two of you that prevented him from loving you to the fullest and he hated it.

But unlike Derek who immediately spread his problems around like it was just some gossip printed on the sixth page or JJ who kept Emily’s well-being to herself despite him coming to cry to her for months, you never betrayed his trust.

Even more so, you didn’t have that look of pity in your eyes that was equally as painful as daggers in his chest when he told you about his drug addiction or the schizophrenia of his mother.

You were easily the person on earth that he trusted the most but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some things that he still kept to himself.

But as he said, he wanted to change that and if one person was deserving of his honesty and vulnerability it was you.

Spencer had told you about his father leaving, the horrors he had to face that still haunted him in his dreams, his kidnapping from Tobias Hankel, and the cruelty of a childhood as a child prodigy.

While what he wanted to tell you wasn’t nearly as heavy it still felt like dead weight continuing to weigh him down.

Every time, he came close to telling you the truth, he got scared like a child in the dark and switched topics to something that didn’t matter at all.

Spencer also knew that you were aware that something was off. Before you started dating ten months ago, you had been best friends for years so he can positively say that you know him better than anybody else.

But today he had a plan.

You had been wanting to watch ‘Love, Simon’ with him for weeks and he had tried to avoid it for obvious reason but today he’d watch it with you and maybe then he’d gain the courage to talk to you.

He was aware of how illogical his fears were, after all, you had always been open about your bisexuality and had seen you beat up homophobes on various occasions (while Hotch hated it, it was on the long list of things that Spencer loved about you).

But he feared that maybe you wouldn’t want to be with someone who liked men and women or maybe that just didn’t fit with the type of man you were looking for or maybe-

Nope, he wasn’t doing this to himself. You were the kindest, most open hearted and loving person he knew and he had told you far more break up worthy thing than his sexuality.

When he had told you about his past drug addiction, you pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and kissed the fainting scars there and helped him get rid of the small stack of Dilaudid that he had kept hidden in his closet without any sign of judgment.

When he had told you about his mother, you pulled his head on your lap and started playing with his hair until the tears on his face dried and pinky promised him that you would stay with him even if he inhabited his mother’s illness because there was nothing that you would ever let drive a wedge between the two of you.

When he had told you about his childhood and confided in you for the relentless bullying he had to endure after you had found an invitation to a high school reunion in his mailbox, you had peppered him with kisses the entire night and showered him with compliments and love.

Not to mention that you convinced him to go to the high school reunion where everyone seemed equally as impressed by the beauty that his girlfriend possessed and the nature of his job. And every time, you sensed that he was uncomfortable you held his hand and wordlessly pulled him away, because you simply understood him like that.

The first night you slept over, he was more anxious over you sleeping next to him than the actual act of having sex with you (which said a lot because in a moment of desperation he had even asked Derek for sex advice) because he knew that the nightmares would jolt him awake again.

But it was so easy to be with you and when he pulled your body into his and showed you just how much he loved you in the most intimate act there was, all worries (and crappy advice that Derek had given him) left his mind and were quickly replaced by pure bliss and escasty.

And when he woke up shaking because some monsters don’t stay hidden in the dark, you were right there to comfort him until he was able to safely fall asleep with your arms wrapped around his waist.

Spencer was jolted back to reality when there was a knock on his door and he immediately wrapped you in a bone crushing hug before pouring all his worries and love into a kiss.

“We literally saw each other at work today. Did you really miss me that much already?” Your laughter that had become Spencer’s favorite sound ever since the first time he heard it filled the room, and he had to fight the urge to drop his plans and just worship you and your body for the entirety of the evening instead.

No, he was a man on a mission and he had repressed this conversation for way too long.

“I always miss you.”

And it was true, embarrassingly so. When you were on a case, Hotch decided against giving the two of you a shared hotel room, and every time, he had to fall asleep without your body heat next to him he felt as if there was some part of himself missing.

You gave him a peck on the cheek before you intertwined your fingers with Spencer’s and lead him to his couch where you rather ungracefully plumped down.

He joined you and your head immediately landed on his lap as a silent invitation for him to play with your hair which he happily obliged to.

“Can we watch ‘Love, Simon’ today?”

“Yes! I’ve only been begging you to watch it for years,” you laughed while grabbing the hand that wasn’t massaging your temple and holding it in yours.

He laughed too but it was filled with anxiety and you heard it because of course you did. Others might no be able to make out when he was uncomfortable but you always knew when to press him and when to leave him alone.

“We don’t have to watch that movie if you really don’t want to, babe,” you said as you propped yourself up to sit next to him again, all while never letting go of his hand.

“It’s not that. I just-”

Well, it’s now or never.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurted out, surprising himself with the sudden statement, and when he hesitantly locked eyes with yours there was none of the judgment or disgust he feared.

There was just love and understanding like there always was.

You were just about to say something before he gave you a look that clearly signaled to just let him talk for a bit and you answered the silent request with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze on his hand.

“I don’t know, I just used to have this crush on a boy when I was younger and I was confused because I only ever saw heterosexual couples, you know?” You nodded and that reassuring smile on your face never seemed to falter even a little bit, you looked almost proud of him.

“And then I got older and I started liking women too and I was even more confused because like who exactly do I like now?”

Sometimes during meetings in the briefing room or on the jet, you randomly held hands and squeezed them three time as a reminder that you loved each other without having to actually say it and that’s what you did during the brief amount of silence.

“When I was in high school liking boys was always associated with something bad so I just assumed that it was bad and tried my hardest to just suppress it.”

Spencer squeezed your hand three times too and took a deep breath. Seemed that even a genius like him could miscalculate and in this case it was the toll this secret had on him.

“But then I got older and realized that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, and so I kind of accepted it even though I still had no idea what my sexuality was. It was just one of those I’ll deal with it later type of things.”

When he looked into your eyes again, you looked at him with so much tenderness that he felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest, even if that was biologically impossible.

“I had a boyfriend when I was in college, his name was Ethan and I loved him but it just didn’t work out. I never told anyone because I was afraid I think?”

He remembered the time of sneaking around and lying to his mother when she spotted a hickey on his neck during one of her visits, the frustration because all he wanted was to show the world the love they shared like every other ordinary couple.

But he also remembered the clandestine meetings, muttered I love you’s that were for no one else to hear and the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

“And then I was confused again because I still liked women too and then I met you and I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you honestly and then I thought that maybe it was just like a non-sexual thing but I am sexually attracted to you, I mean we have sex. I like having sex with you!”

You chuckled but it was not out of malice or disgust it was just there, floating in the air filling his body with a warmth that not even his thickest sweater could provide.

“Baby, breathe. It’s just me.”

You brought his knuckles up to your mouth to press a kiss to each of them and that simple gesture managed to calm Spencer’s nerve immensely.

“You were so open with your sexuality and I guess it just kind of made sense? And I know that some women have problems with men who like men and maybe you’re disgusted with me because I used to be with a man and I’m like not the manliest man and and sometimes I think about painting my nails because it seems kind of fun and-”

The thing about Spencer’s rambling was that he couldn’t stop. He wanted to especially when he saw the annoyance on everyone’s faces but you were always there to listen to him, even if you had no idea what he was talking about but as you felt his anxiety worsen with every word that left his lips, you interrupted him for the first time ever.

“I’m not disgusted at all. I love and accept everything about you and that includes your sexuality. Thank you for being open with me, I know hard that can be with for you. I’m very proud of you.”

You emphasized your statement by pulling him in for a kiss and that was the first time that Spencer noticed that he was crying, but you kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, wordlessly wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“You’re the most perfect man I know. I don’t care if you’re not the most manliest man to me you’re perfect and the love of my life,” you whispered against his lips and Spencer could only reply by deepening the kiss and trying to get you as close to him as humanly possible.

There was no rush or expectations, you were kissing as if you had every time in the world and the kiss was a silent promise that you still loved him no matter what.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Spencer could finally breathe. Silence filled the room but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. You had placed Spencer’s head on your chest and played with his hair while occasionally peppering him with kisses, only a few reassurances and I love you’s accompanying the stirring DVD player.

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to paint your nails?” you asked after a few minutes passed and Spencer had wrapped his arms around your waist as if you were the anchor to a sinking ship.

Spencer chuckled not even remembering what he said during his ramble. “I guess so. Why?”

The thought did cross his mind from time to time, especially when he saw your impressive collection of various nail polish. He never cared much about other’s perception of his masculinity and Spencer realized that his fair of not being manly enough for you was nothing but utterly stupid.

“Do you want me to do it?”

He shyly nodded and a smile filled your face as you took his hand to examine it, probably debating in your head which colour would fit him most.

And as you left the room to search for the most beautiful purple you could find, Spencer sat in the living room, happiness spreading through every fiber of his being because for the first time he knew what it felt like to be unconditionally loved.

Both of you weren’t perfect but there were no more secrets left lurking in the shadows and he knew that as long as you wanted him, he’d always be yours.

You were the first person to truly accept and love him. All of him, and he never wanted to lose that.

As he sat in the living room, you sitting on his lap and looked at your fingers as you painted his in a dark shade of purple, he decided that it wouldn’t be long until the most beautiful ring he could find would adorn your ring finger.

[gubes-sweaters]

Unexpected Turns Chapter 4

Author's Note: Not betaed I apologize for any mistakes in advance. *edit on 2/1/2022 i’ve added banners to all old chapters that didn’t have them before*

Content Warnings: canon typical criminal minds violence, harassment (?) from an ex (not totally sure if it counts, but I wanted to put it in there just in case), pregnancy, a semi-accurate portrayal of an ultrasound. 

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 4: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

It’s been about a month since you moved into Spencer’s apartment. You’ve both fallen into a fairly normal routine. About a week after you moved into Spencer’s apartment, you booked an appointment with an OB. Spencer insisted on helping you research before. That appointment is in a couple of days. It's the first one you could fit in with your busy schedule. You also told Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi last month.

You first told Hotch when you got back from your two day vacation. You told him first mostly out of necessity because you were approved to work out in the field about two months ago and not just working as the communications liaison. It was to make sure you could be out in the field, but to let him know you couldn’t do anything that could hurt you or the baby. He stood and gave you a hug, something Hotch doesn’t do often. After he congratulated you he also said he would fight to give you as much time as you need when it comes to doctor’s visits and maternity leave. You later went over to Morgan’s place that night to tell him. He gave you a huge bear hug and promised to help you out too. Rossi was the last to find out, and you told him at a dinner that he hosted at his house. He was excited for another “baby of the BAU” to be on their way. Since you too aren't close he heard down the grapevine that you and your ex broke up, so he didn’t mention it.

Things have become pretty normal besides the morning sickness, fuzzy brain, and being fatigued more often. You’ve also noticed that you can definitely see a small change in your stomach, but unless someone was looking for it, they’d never even know. You’ve gotten used to most of it at this point currently, you were finishing up from leaning over the toilet for the last hour after another spout of nausea hit you this morning. You hear a faint knock at the door after you sit up trying to stretch out any discomfort from leaning over for so long. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Spencer says from the other side of the door.

“Yeah I’m good,” you reply, opening the door, “the weird thing is that no one tells you that ‘morning sickness’ is just nausea all day long and coughing up bile.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He says just before both of your phones go off simultaneously. You both pull out your phones quickly to read a brief rundown of your next case.

“Thanks, Spence I really appreciate it, being able to just relax here would be amazing, but crime never rests so…” you say, trailing off while walking past him, and he just chuckles lightly in response.

The case was fairly simple, but it was a high-profile case, so the BAU was requested specifically. A high-profile politician’s mistress went missing shortly after their affair went public. There was an odd ransom note left for her that was almost immediately written off because of how odd it was written. The case seemed pretty cut and dry, but the only thing that made this case unnecessarily complicated was that you guys would be at the same precinct that your ex-boyfriend Jo works at. You managed to ignore him and doge him completely. In the end the case did end up being pretty easy, people on the congressman’s PR team hired someone to make her go missing and they tried to cover it up using the poorly written ransom note. The BAU was able to save her and get her home safely and justice was dealt. Currently, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Emily are all finishing up integrations, so they can help get the full story. JJ was delivering a press statement which you and Spencer were watching on TV while packing everything up in this stuffy conference room in the precinct. About an hour later you and Spencer were about seventy-five percent done when JJ pops her head in and says she has bad news.

“Hey, so I just spoke with the pilot, and he said that the rain is going to be too heavy to fly home tonight, but we'll fly out first thing in the morning,” she says and you and Spencer acknowledge her before turning back to packing up. You groan to yourself because an uncomfortable hotel mattress becomes ten times more uncomfortable when you’re pregnant. 

While Spencer took all the files and paperwork back to one of the SUVs you sat at the empty conference room table with your hands in your hair, trying to breathe through a wave of nausea. You decide to go to a vending machine you had seen down the hall to see if they had any crackers or sprite, something JJ told you helped her a lot when she was pregnant.

“Hey, stranger,” the voice makes you stop in your tracks, “I didn’t know you were here,” Jo sounded almost happy to see you. You could practically hear the cocky smirk on his face.

“What do you want,” you turn and tell him, not wanting to play games with him.

“I can’t just say hi? I wanted to see you before you left. I would’ve said hi earlier, but I’ve been gone,” he says before a cocky smirk appears on his face, “I was actually on vacation… with my girlfriend,” there it is that's why he walked up to you. He just wanted to rub it in your face that you were “replaced”. Not wanting to entertain any of this, you turned to walk away. You weren't sure where you were headed, but you kept walking anyway. You found a small one-person bathroom before locking the door and collapsing against it. 

All you wanted to do was cry, so that’s exactly what you did. You were trying to breathe through the whole thing before picking up your phone to call JJ.

“Hey um are either you or Spencer busy?” you ask sniffing a little bit.

“I’m not sure where he is, but I’m all finished up, you wanna head to the hotel?” 

“Yeah, I’m in some random bathroom. It's the one just down the hall from the vending machines and our conference room. I’m just so tired and, um Jo’s here, and I just want to leave,” you say before leaning your head against the door.

“Okay, okay I’ll be there in a minute. Just try to breathe and don’t let him stress you out,” she tells you before hanging up.

You and JJ have been in your hotel room for about half an hour. She sat and calmed you down after a bit. She kept rubbing your back while giving you small reassurances here and there. At some point you ended up falling asleep, you woke up to a knock on your hotel door. You sat up in a slightly confused state. You walk over and open the door to see a slightly dissolved Spencer. He wraps his arms around you before backing you up just enough to close the door. 

“JJ told me everything that happened. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he moves one hand up to cradle the back of your head before gently planting a kiss on your forehead, “the team went out for dinner, but we can stay here if you want and order something.”

“That sounds good,” you say before breaking the hug. 

You walk back to your bed and plop down with Spencer not falling far behind. 

“What do you want to eat?” he asks, turning his head to you before toeing off his shoes.

“Ooh, olive garden kinda sounds good. We can order something from there.”

“I don’t think Rossi would like that very much,” he lets out an airy laugh before getting comfortable on the queen bed next to you.

“I think he’ll live,” you two chuckle together before deciding what to order.

The next morning by the time you get up Spencer’s already gone. He cleaned up everything from last night and wrote you a note saying he went to his room to pack everything up. You decided to crawl out of bed despite every bone in your body telling you to close your eyes again. You walk into the cramped bathroom to clean up for the day. Normally you wouldn’t care all that much, but you remembered that your doctor's appointment was later that afternoon at 4:30. 

You meet Spencer, Morgan, and JJ in a car before heading off to the landing strip where the jet is. The plane ride was smooth as always, you compared early pregnancy symptoms with JJ and Morgan sat across from the two of you, looking completely shocked.

“Wait, your what does what now?” He asks, he looks like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah a person's cervix actually opens up ten centimeters when they’re ready to push,” JJ says, showing a visual of how big ten centimeters is while laughing at Morgan’s theatrics.

After landing at the BAU, you all finish your reports. You and Spencer were the first to finish your reports after the both of you made a mad dash to your doctor’s appointment before saying goodbye to everyone. You two were on your way to the elevator with Penelope trailing behind you saying she better get a picture of your ultrasound. You’re honestly starting to believe she’s more excited to see your baby than you are.

The entire time on the way to the OB Spencer anxiously gives you directions. He likes being a little bit early to everything, but you can never seem to be on time for anything. With Spencer’s directions, you both made it there on time. You had just enough time to fill out your paperwork before you were called back to the exam room.

“Okay since this is your first ultrasound I’m going to be able to tell you how many weeks you’re along. It says on your chart that you think you’re around ten to fourteen weeks is that right?” the very sweet ultrasound tech asks you. You just nod in response, feeling a bit odd because the reality of the situation is just setting in. Spencer must’ve felt that you were tense because he grabbed your hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“So I’m just going to put a bit of gel on your stomach, it might be a little cold,” She warns before adding a dollop of the clear gel, “Okay are you ready?” she asks, looking down at you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you respond with a tight-lipped smile.

She turns on the machine and holds the wand to your lower abdomen. It makes you kinda nervous that she’s quiet; all she’s doing is humming to herself and occasionally nodding her head. When she finally starts talking the weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

“Everything looks great! I don’t see any abnormalities. It also looks like you were right on the nose with your estimate. I would say you’re twelve weeks along which means you can also hear the heartbeat today,” She says with a big smile switching her gaze between you and Spencer. For once Spencer has not much to say, he always likes to contribute to any conversation, but this time it’s nothing but dead silence. 

You decide to look over at him quickly, and he’s just staring in awe at the tiny little black and white blob on the screen. 

“We can? Also are you sure everything is okay?” you ask, giving her a worried look.

“Yes, everything looks perfectly normal,” she says before pointing out where everything is. “Are you ready to hear the heartbeat?” You nod your head at her in response. She then takes the fetal doppler and tries to find the heartbeat. Soon the three of you hear a very rapid heartbeat and a wave of emotions crashes over you. 

The ultrasound tech finishes everything up and gives you a couple of copies of the ultrasound. She also directs you down the hall for you to get your blood pressure taken and your blood drawn. Afterward, you both go to the front desk and markdown an appointment for your eighteen to twenty-two-week ultrasound. During this whole process, Spencer is still quiet.

“Are you okay?” you ask, turning the key in the ignition. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, staring at one of the copies.

“Hey, you have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t bottle everything up, we've been through this.”

“I know, but this really isn’t about me. Can we talk about this later?” He asks, putting the photo down and looking forward, completely avoiding eye contact with you. All you can do is nod your head and hope he opens up to you sooner than later. 

You can’t try to make him open up too much, or he’ll close down. It’s like every step forward, he takes two steps back, always keeping you at arm's length. 

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