#there's so much where tobias is like

[theidiotabides]

Would really love to hear about the angsty marcotobias fic if you're interested in sharing. 👀

Oh gosh, I feel like I'd have to actually write it for it to make sense because like 80% of it is subtext, but here's some rambling in that general direction.

I'm chiefly interested in the ways in which Marco & Tobias are actually incredibly similar -- their senses of humor, their attractions, their complete direspect for authority, and most importantly how they both lowkey hate themselves but insist on survival anyway, largely out of spite -- but how they treat their similarity as, like, a cautionary tale rather than the basis for a healthy connection that it could be.

Like, Tobias disappearing into the woods and giving up on everybody is exactly the kind of behavior that Marco finds incredibly triggering, having lived through it with his dad. Marco would never walk away from his remaining loved ones like that, especially in the post-war world where he's charged himself with being the public face of the Animorphs because somebody has to. But there is absolutely a part of him that wants to give up and disappear; ya boi is tired.

Meanwhile, I think Tobias sees Marco's devotion to Jake and refusal to abandon him even after how Rachel died (which Tobias blames Jake for) as a version of the hero worship complex Tobias used to have about Jake -- like, I think Tobias sees Marco as being too devoted to Jake to see "the truth" about him, and he pities that in Marco. But at the same time, Tobias envies Marco's close personal connections, and I think on some level he knows that the only way to get to that place would be to work through his anger at Jake to get to his anger at Rachel, and he just can't bring himself to do that. It's easier to stay mad.

And then there's the question of Rachel herself, whom they were both deeply invested in trying to keep alive at the end of the war. Like, we see this explicitly from Tobias, with his "just be Rachel" and constant emotional check-ins with her, but I don't think Marco gets enough credit for his active role in keeping her literally alive. Dude bodily removed her from battles, at risk to his own life, and I just refuse to believe that's not something Marco & Tobias talked about, given how much time they spent together in Ax's scoop during that period of time between Marco's fake death & the move to the valley. Rachel is both a mutual love and a mutual failure for them (and that level of mutual devotion to a third person gives my polyamorous ass A Lot of Feelings).

Basically I think there's a lot of respect and love between Tobias and Marco, but they can't get to it because it would require each of them to deal with Rachel-related guilt and confront parts of themselves that they don't want to acknowledge.

...so I want to get them high on Marco's fancy penthouse balcony and make them kiss about it

[july-19th-club]

love an ending that is 'happy' in that a desirable outcome is produced, but made complicated by the fact that the protagonist has given up something integral to themself in order to make it so. it's sort of uncool in some circles to admit you LIKE when characters give up something really cool for something pretty basic, but it's all about context and quality of storytelling, right? that sort of conviction - this is a part of my personality that i am permanently renouncing access to, and it's my choice, and i'm going to miss it, but i'm not going to regret it - that's compelling. ending in which a character who loves nothing more than the rush of finding the answer to a question is handed, one day, a puzzle they just don't want to solve. and that part of their life is over, but it's not a bad thing. maybe the answer doesn't need to be known. maybe not knowing it opens you up to a creative mindset you never had before. character who gains some kind of special power chooses to give it up not because they no longer love the ability, not because it hasn't improved their life, but because this thing they love comes with costs, is getting in the way of a life someone they love or loved and lost would want them to live. i'm glad it turned out this way. i miss the missing thing with all my heart. i would let go of it again if i was asked to choose.

[melien]

A lil update: Electromagnets will be back soon (maybe even tomorrow as I'm sick at home) and the GC story will probably follow suit as I ✨went on an inspirational autumn walk✨ and finally figured out some parts of it that weren't clicking before and now I'm super happy with how it goes!

[theflannelwizard]

Oops, I lied about sending all my questions in one, I thought of an actually specific question and not just a super general one five seconds after sending the ask:

Do you have any neurodivergent hcs for Buster and Gob(or other characters if you hc anyone else as neurodivergent)?

This is such a good question!! Okay!! It got long so I'm putting it under the cut, but TLDR: undiagnosed comorbid autistm and ADHD for both of them plus ADHD Tony Wonder :) I forced myself not to get into it with the rest of the Bluths cause this post would be a mile long but i did put cursory thoughts about them in the tags. All of this is spitballing and I'm definitely open to hearing other opinions!

Whatever is going on with Buster’s brain is the same thing that’s going on with my brain, so most likely ADHD and/or autism but DEFINITELY undiagnosed. None of the Bluths have the diagnoses they need and if someone (Tobias) tries to so much as allude to them being neurodivergent in front of George Sr. and/or Lucille it gets shut down immediately.

Anyway Buster reads more autistic than ADHD to me but it could be either or both. He has trouble reading other people’s emotions and regulating his own, he’s “strange” and “childish” in ways that are direct responses to how he was raised but also just read as neurodivergent, he’s got safe foods and takes things literally and has no clue how to read social cues and stims and gestures vaguely at all of him is just so very ND. Also the thing with ADHD-havers being randomly struck with bouts of guilt or self loathing? I think that’s him. ADHD was recently reclassified as an anxiety disorder, too, which we know full well is Buster, and it would not surprise me if his panic and anxiety attacks were brought on by sensory overload and RSD and other ADHD things at least some of the time.

As for GOB, I think he’s got the same deal but he reads more ADHD than autistic. I think they both have both but it presents differently in each of them. I’m fully on board with both magic and bees being special interests for that man, and he also just moves and talks and interacts with people in a very neurodivergent way. The stuttering when he’s overwhelmed is, to me, adjacent to (if not straight up being) him going nonverbal. He definitely has RSD too, look at how devastated he is when anyone rejects him ever. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was bipolar, getting manic when he’s really into a project and then falling into depression for weeks or months at a time.

And, just as a bonus, I think Tony Wonder has ADHD. He recognizes it in GOB and helps him with learn to function in a healthier happier way and his siblings are so confused cause GOB just magically started getting more normal?? Except it’s not magic (and it’s not an illusion lmao) it’s just coping mechanisms. Tony’s been collecting them from various therapists for like 30 years. He has no clue how anyone in this family thinks they��re neurotypical.

[datastate]

today’s been such a long day but i still have stuff to clean before i can even. lie down on my bed TT_TT

[emptymasks]

They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

[0mg-bird]

Look Of Love~ S. Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: All the moments you had to tell him exactly how you feel, and yet it comes down to this one, where the words ‘I love you’ might save his life.

Warnings: Violence, angst, Reid being a kicked puppy, blood, tw! Tobias Hankel!

Season 2 Reid x Fem! Agent! Reader

Everything was going fine, wasn’t it? Well, about as fine as you can consider a case about a serial killer who believes he’s doing the work of God, to go.

But he was fine.

And that was what made things fine.

Well, until the whole thing crumbled and there was a sharp pain in your lungs that isn’t about to cease. JJ and Spencer left to find the location of Tobias Hankel’s home, that was about an hour ago. You had watched as he holstered his gun, preparing to get into the car and leave you.

“You’re still not coming with me.” He says towards your silent pining.

“Spence.” You argue, though he just turns to look at you amused.

“We’re just going to talk to this guy, he’s just a witness. They need you here.” He reasons, reassuring you with a smile.

His words always seemed to calm you down, it’s like magic, the Reid effect. So you nodded and rolled your eyes as he tucked your hair behind your ears, a quirk he’s always done because he knows how much you hate your pointy ears.

There was no argument, you and Spencer were the closest ones out of the rest. It’s a kind of peaceful friendship, the two of you just played in harmony so well. He knew all of your secrets, you knew almost all of his, and you weren’t shy to tug on his arm or secretly join your hand in his under the table during meetings. Spencer was more than okay with it, learning that’s just how you act with people you are comfortable with.

And while the two of you were convinced it wasn’t a relationship the team would bat an eye at, your friends often had secret discussions in regard to you.

“This whole ‘friendship’ scheme…do they really buy it?” Emily asked one morning as she watched you take a drink of coffee and cringe at the too sweet taste, then give it to Reid and take the one he had been drinking.

Reid isn’t a fan of germs.

But in his mind, yours aren’t so bad.

“Oh no, they’re still convinced they’re just close friends.” Morgan chuckled, answering the woman’s question.

“She loves him.” JJ added in a matter of fact tone. “It’s honestly a little sad…she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.”

“Why?” Emily’s brows furrow.

“Afraid she’ll ruin the friendship.” Morgan simply says.

At that, the female agent scoffs. “Reid’s obviously in love with her, no friend looks at another friend that way.”

They watch intently at the eye contact being shared, and how expressions change when Reid walks away from you.

“They look like kicked puppies.” JJ frowns. “Morgan, go talk to him, I can’t stand this anymore.”

The man looks at her in confusion. “And say what? I can’t just tell a man how he feels.”

Emily argues. “Reid doesn’t know what he feels, he’s confused, put him out of his misery.”

As Morgan goes to open his mouth, Hotch appears with his signature scowl and the conversation was dropped and done with.

Though it was never forgotten.

The entire team saw the lovesickness between the two of you…and yet, you couldn’t fix it.

There were plenty of times you could have confessed, many perfect moments that were ruined by your fear of the feeling not being mutual.

And after a while, the words seemed to try and escape on their own accord. Like in the moment he goes to leave and you call to him one last time.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit?” He said, scanning your face intently like he always seemed to do.

“Yeah, see you soon, I lo-”

Your heart beats loudly in your ears and you seal your lips, feeling betrayed by your own words. He looks at you, puzzled, then leaves.

You should have told him.

You should have just told him.

Because now, gun drawn, searching Hankel’s house, Spencer is no where to be found.

JJ was in the barn out back, looking rather disheveled and scared when she was found, but she was safe and unharmed and Spencer was gone.

“We thought he was just a witness, I swear. Then Reid figured out he was the UnSub and...” JJ said to you over and over, feeling guilt in her bones, blaming herself for his abduction. She swore that she should’ve stayed with him, not split up like he said to. She means well…you just can’t think straight.

The team stayed inside the house overnight, working off of minimal hours of sleep, and daybreak came and you were sitting on the couch with your head in your hands, thinking of some plan on how you were going to find him.

“Hey.” Penelope greeted as you walk into the room with a multitude of computers she was searching for any clues.

“Hey.” You sigh, leaning on the desk beside her. “Anything yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, sweet pea.”

You watch the videos of war and destruction on the screens, the right kind of fuel for a split personality maniac like Hankle.

“If Tobias is living as three people, and his father is the one that’s the evil side of his brain, then I think that’s who has taken Reid. We’ve been thinking like Tobias, we need to be thinking like his dad, right?” You question, turning to Morgan as he walks into the room.

He nods. “It’s a good idea, yeah.”

Suddenly, the computer screens in front of the three of you go black.

“What happened?” Morgan asks.

“I don’t know…” Penelope answers…

She tries to get the screens back up, but to all of your surprise, the live stream that comes on is something more horrific than what you were previously watching.

“Spencer.” The name leaves you as well as all the air in your lungs.

There he was, your pretty boy, sat in a chair, bloody and bruised and out of it.

Morgan yells for the others, but you’re frozen in place.

“Track him, Pen.” You say in a panic.

“I can’t, Hankle is only streaming this to his home computer.” She says in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” You worry. “This is some kind of joke? This is just for us to see?”

She nods slowly.

The team watches closely, listening to the way Hankle forces Reid to choose an innocent couple to get murdered.

You seriously think you’re going to be sick.

He struggles on the screen, choosing someone to be spared torture instead.

And as fast as he was in front of you, he’s gone from the live feed even faster. You stare at the blank screen with red eyes, then leave the room completely.

A full day wasted, you weren’t close enough to find him. You go back to couch and prepare for another sleepless night.

~~

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep, because you wake with a start at the feeling of something being different.

You make your way to the computer room where everyone is hunched over, looking at a map Penelope brings up.

“Good, you got some sleep.” Hotch says, barely sparing you a glance as you enter.

“What’s going on?” You ask, leaning into Morgan’s side.

“We think we found him.” He says to you, watching your eyes widen.

“What?” Your voice cracks and any lingering feeling of sleep is gone.

“We’re heading out in five.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Tying your hair up and rubbing your face, you pull a kevlar vest on and cinch the velcro shut. The entire car ride to the little shack, you’re twitching.

Everyone shares a look, because the way you act now is the whole reason they didn’t wake you when the live feed was back up. If you were to watch the way Reid was being beaten, Gideon isn’t sure you could handle it.

The team storms the shack, and you try hard not to lose hope when you come up empty handed yet again.

You curse to yourself. “They were here.”

“They couldn’t have gotten far, they’re on foot.” Hotch nods, immediately turning back out to search the cemetery you were in.

On high alert, you search through the dark, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“We’re gonna find him.” Morgan promises, but you can’t focus on anything besides locating Reid.

Closer and closer, you can almost feel it in your bones, the way your instincts guid you in a direction.

The only thing that halts your step is the sound of a single gun shot.

No.

No, it wasn’t going to end like this. It couldn’t.

Quickly, you head to that noise with your partners following after you.

“Spencer!” You shout, voice raw. “Spence?”

He looks up from Tobias’ body, and it’s like the entire world stops spinning. He’s there, he’s alive, he’s breathing ragged breaths and it’s all okay.

Hotch is there to help him to his feet, guiding him to stumble forward until he gains his footing. His head is dizzy and his hearing might be a little echoey but in a single moment, you’re there.

He grips onto you like you’re his lifeline, and you wrap your arms around him, stumbling to support his weight. A hand in his dirty hair, he feels your touch and knows you have to be real. That it’s your real form here that’s fighting to hold back tears and not the visions he’d see when he was out of it.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” You promise, knowing he might not realize he’s shaking and mumbling.

Pulling back just a few inches, he’s leaning his forehead to yours and breathing too quickly.

“Hey, hey.” You say softly, gently cupping his face. “Look at me, Spencer, look at me, sweetheart.”

He sees the deep look in your worried eyes and tries to form a sentence, but for once, his big brain can’t figure out what to say.

You do though.

And for once, you aren’t scared to say it. Actually, you’re afraid of not saying it.

“Spence.” You breathe out, he breathes in like your air is what matters. Your hand gently smooths blood soaked hair back, trying to get him to calm down.

He says your name in reassurance to himself.

“Hey, I’m right here.” You say. “I’m right here, and I love you.”

His brain fog seems to clear, his confused brown eyes are searching your face like they always tend to do, and those three words are making a small smile pull on his cracked lips.

~~

The hospital trip is almost too brief, just enough for him to get checked out and cleaned up, then you’re back on the plane to head home.

Curled in the corner of the small couch, you are barely asleep like the others, listening to music, head leaned against the wall. That’s before gentle hands pull your headphones off your ears.

Your eyes open and turn to see Spencer, sitting down beside you.

“Hey.” You whisper.

He sets the headphones down. “Hi.”

“You feel okay?” You ask, noticing the way he pulls your knees away from your chest so you sit normally.

He nods. “I feel about as good as someone who just got beat up would.”

You smile at his humor.

He tucks the hair framing your face, behind your ears, as always. “I was in and out of consciousness when you found me, I think, so I need to make sure that you actually said it and I wasn’t just lucid dreaming.”

You reach up to grab his hands. “Said what?”

He takes a deep breath. “That…you love me?”

His eyes are hopeful and wide, that’s what makes you nod.

“You weren’t imagining it…I love you, Spence.”

A smile forms on his face. “That’s good then.” He says, sure of himself.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

That when he flips your hold of his hands and joins one in his. “Because I love you too.”

There it was, the confession you’ve wanted for so long. There’s a moment of silence, then your free hand cups his jaw and he moves so close, your lips part just to breathe out slowly and then he’s there. Kissing you.

It’s soft, like you’ve been doing this for years.

He licks his lower lip after he pulls away, trying to savor the taste. Brushing your forehead to his for a second, you lean back and motion for him to follow. There’s no words that need to be spoken as he makes himself a bed in your lap, lying on his side that hurts the least and presses his face into your stomach.

Out like a light, the both of you.

Morgan nudges Emily a while later when they both wake, and he motions over to the lump on the couch. The woman grins.

“It took no interference at all.” She says.

Morgan smirks. “Nope, just a near death experience.”

Hotch scowls as usual. “We’re going to have to talk to HR about this.”

[luveline]

God bombshell x reid kills me I want them to just be together so bad but the slow burn is so good

Would you happen to have anything in mind for a situation where spencer starts to see that her feelings are genuine and he can envision actually being with her?

thanks for requesting my love! ♡ fem reader

Your arrival is marked by a bunch of different things. The smell of your perfume, the clack of your shoes. The clinking sound of your two tennis bracelets as you lift your hand, and the scratch of your fingernails in his hair. He shivers at the soft touch, worse as you lean down to talk in his ear. “Morning,” you say cheerily. 

It's a quick ordeal. A swift scratch and you pull away. 

You've done affectionate things like that before. Hugged him when you thought he needed it, kissed his cheek to say thanks. When he was in the hospital after Tobias, you held his hand the entire time. He's always thought you felt sorry for him —you've made it clear that you think the team could be better to him. If it weren't for you, he probably wouldn't believe it himself. 

But something about your scratching rings a bell in his head. 

It's just so… girlfriend-y. 

He lifts his head from his desk to watch you walk to your own. Hotch won't abide you sitting together anymore on account of you letting him chat as much as he likes without chiding, but you're not far enough to escape his attention, either. Spencer's gaze follows your arms as you shrug from your jacket, and your neck as you lean back and let out a sigh. 

He gets up. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks worriedly. 

“Slept just fine, honey,” you say, brushing down your blouse. “How about you? Headaches any better?” 

“They're fine.”

You touch your cheek gently. “... What are you looking at me for?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. When a rare insecurity flashes in your eyes, he adds, “You look really pretty today, that's all.” 

“Oh.” Your lips perk into a big smile, charmed and charming. “Thank you, Spencer. You look handsome, too. Your hair’s growing.” You bring a hand to his face, not hesitant, but waiting permission, and when he lifts his chin a touch you rake your hand through the hair at the side of his head to tuck behind his ears. “What are you thinking? You'll grow it out again, or cut it short?” 

He's probably gonna do whatever he thinks you'll like, and he's smart enough to guess. “Grow it out?” 

Your delight is not subtle. “It's so soft. I love it. I love your curls.” You glance past him to the landing. “Hotch is looking at us. I'm gonna pretend I didn't see him.” 

“L/N.” 

“Or hear him.” 

“Reid,” Hotch tries. 

Spencer turns on the spot, baffled. You're told off often for flirting with him, but everyone jokes that Spencer is the unwitting party. Hotch gives him a reproachful look that seems to say, stop.

And the second bell rings. Not only does your affection go beyond the boundaries of a friendship, and act outside of playful teasing, Hotch sees it as a mutual partnership. As an equal back and forth. 

Well fine. If this is real, and he's apparently going to get in trouble for things now, he has to just– just do it, right? “Did you hear that?” he asks, laying the mock confusion on thick. 

Your laughter is immediate, loud and sudden and beautiful. You grab his arm and hide your head as though that might obscure the sound of your giggling, your perfume like a wave that hits him smack in the chest. He grins down at you, hand flying automatically to your shoulder.

A boyfriend-y touch, he'd say. 

Spencer could be your boyfriend. He could. You press your forehead to his chest to ride out your laughing and he can see the two of you together, not just a silly daydream but the real thing. 

“Don't be mad,” you're saying as you lift your head, your hand spreading over his arm, familiar in its gentleness. “Hotch, come on! I didn't see him at all this weekend, and he looks so nice today. You know he looks nice today, give me a break.” 

Your voice is shaped by your fondness for him, for Hotch, too, and stretched like a sheet of silk. Spencer doesn't think he could want you more. 

“I'm furious,” Hotch says plainly. “I want to see you both in my office. Preferably now.” 

You wait for him to go back into his office before giving Spencer a small, sorry smile. “My bad, handsome. That one's on me. Take you out to lunch to make up for it?” 

“How about I take you out to lunch?” he asks. 

“But you didn't do anything.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, giving you a nudge. “Come on. He's gonna yell at us about last Thursday's paperwork, you know, the Kentucky stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and your lips part, but you recover, sewing your arm through his as you lament, “Noooo, I forgot about that. He's gonna fry us alive.” 

You don't sound particularly upset. 

[writersblockedx]

Hi there!

I really love your fanfics!

I couldn’t use the link to submit a request so I’m sending it here !

What about a fanfic where Ried has a family but he’s kept it secret for so many years so they wouldn’t get hurt. He has a small daughter and a young son. One day at the office, he gets pictures of someone taking pictures of them with a threat so he has to come clean to the team and bring his family to the office to keep them safe and they are all shocked

Please no pressure for this fic! Love your work!!!

Securing Secrets / S.R.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer has always attempted to keep his family safe. So much so, they had become a secret. But when their lives are threatened, he has no choice but to come clean and ask for the help of his team. Warnings - Stalking, mentions of violence and death Words - 3.8K 

A/n - I hope this is okay for you - I wrote a little more than I intended to but I still hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

It was no wonder why Spencer had kept his family to himself. When he had faced killers like Cat Adams and Tobias Hankle, he knew what humans were capable of - if he dared to even compare them to anything humane. So, he made the decision when he met Y/n to forever keep her a secret from his work. And when they started growing a little family with two children, he kept them a secret too.

Sometimes it killed him inside. As much as he loved his team, risking the lives of his family just wasn't enough for him. He had lost his first love, had his mother held captive, he wasn't about to risk his family too. He had learnt from his past - at least he thought he had done.

"Morgan, hey, no, you can't-" Y/n called towards their seven year old daughter whose sticky fingers had grasped a hold of a copy of fifty shades of grade. When she thought taking the kids on a day trip out to the book store would be easy, she hadn't imagined her seven year old reading smut. "You can't read that." She scolded before placing the book back on its shelf.

The bushy-haired girl gazed up at her mother, "Why not?" She huffed.

Her arm wrapped around Jay, their more reserved, four (and a half) year old. "Because it's an adult book. When you're old enough, you can read it."

"I am old enough, Daddy said I've got an advanced reading age!" Of course, she did - she was the daughter of the guy who could read 20,000 words a minute. Not to mention, she was going through the 'I'm old enough to do what I want' phase.

"Ask me again when you're 18, how about that?" She suggested before the child wrapped at her torso and stared up at her.

"Will Dada be home?" He asked.

Jay always liked coming home from their day trips to find Spencer already there, his head deep in another book or a case file. But days like that were rare - as much as both the parents hated such. "Erm-" Before she could give her son an answer, her phone started to ring. "That should be him." She gave the boy a smile before pulling out her mobile and seeing Spencer's contact staring back at her.

The man, from the moment they made it official, had always made sure to call her at the end of his working day. Whether he was in a hotel somewhere in the country, on the jet or if he was simply in his car, travelling home. "Hey, Spence, you should hear what Morgan wants to read-"

She could barely finish her breath, "Where are you?" He asked, his tone ever so stern that it was already making her nervous.

"The bookstore down town." She answered, already glancing around like she suddenly felt as if she was being watched. "Why?"

The girl could hear his uneven breaths on the other side of the phone, "I- Shit-" That's when Y/n knew something was wrong - her husband never swore...ever. "Can you come to the office? With the kids, we need you here."

"The office? Spencer, what are you talking about? I thought they didn't know."

"Yeah, well something's changed." Her heart started beating so fast that she wondered if Jay would be able to feel it. "Please, I need to know you're all safe."

She nodded and gazed over at her two children whom were waiting to hear about what Daddy had told her. "We'll be right over," She assured.

"And Y/n," He spoke, "In your car, in the glove compartment, there's a pistol, please, take it." What the hell had happened? Spencer could barely use a gun himself, never mind her. "I put it in there just in case and, just keep it on you until you get here."

"Okay, yeah." She didn't like the idea but, if someone was threatening them, if someone was putting her and her children at risk, she would do whatever was needed.

"I'll see you soon." Spencer huffed, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that, she ended the call. Only a single exhale dared to leave her lips before she stood. "Is Dada home?" Jay nagged.

She scooped the boy up into her arms, "No, but we're gonna visit him at work, okay?" Jay didn't seem happy about the idea but she'd rather the boy be safe than happy. "Come on," With her free hand, she grasped Morgan's finger tips tightly. "We need to go."

She rushed her and the kids into her parked car outside, making sure to look over her shoulder. Once she was seated in the driver's seat with the engine running, her gaze glanced to the glove compartment. Y/n needed to. Her hand leaned over, pushing it open and finding the gun stuffed behind a thick car manual. She grasped it for a moment before placing it on the passangers seat for easy access.

From there, she didn't take her foot off the gas. She was usually an ulta-safe driver. But, tonight, everything was different.

When they arrived to the BAU, Y/n pressed the button for the sixth floor and waited for the doors to glide open. With two children at either side of her, she wandered into the office. Her eyes instantly searched for Spencer. Instead, a blonde, colourful girl came running over to them. Well, walking as fast as she could in her thick heels. Garcia, Y/n assumed.

"Oh, you must be the lovely Mrs Reid," She sighed in relief when she came face to face with Y/n.

She glanced her up and down; there was no way this was JJ or Emily. "Penelope, right?"

The girl almost seemed surprised, "You- you know me?"

Y/n's face softened ever so slightly, "Of course."

"Y/n!" Her head turned from Garcia to see Spencer jogging over to her. Once he was close enough, he instantly engulfed the girl into a tight hug. "You okay?" He asked before pulling away and hugging his two children.

She nodded, "Yeah, we're okay, don't worry." When Spencer stood from hugging his kids, he gazed back over at his wife. She had grasped her hand from the back hem of her jeans, pulling out the pistol he had made sure she take. "Here, I've no idea what I'm doing with it anyway." Spencer took the weapon from her before her expression turned stern, "Now, what the hell is going on?"

Spencer's eyes instantly glanced down at their children; they didn't need to hear this. "Morgan, Jay," He spoke ever so softly to them as he leaned down, "Why don't you go with Garcia, she'll show you all her funky toys?" He glanced back at Penelope who was gleaming with a smile as she offer a hand for each child.

"Oh, yeah! I've got unicorns, fairies, fluffy pens, everything." She gleamed, trying to hide her fear for the true reason Spencer's family had been bought into the BAU. Once the kids took the woman's hand she gave one last look at the couple, "Let me know if you need anything."

The boy nodded before Garcia began leading the children towards her cave, "Someone- someone found you." He started to explain as he interlocked his hand with her, guiding the two over towards the conference room where the rest of the team were waiting. "I don't know how and I don't know who but- but around 30 minutes ago I had email to my work address. There's photos, almost a months worth."

Her brows narrowed at him, "Of what?"

"Of you."

Oh god. Despite all the effort the two had put in to keep their family personal, someone had still connected her and the kids to Spencer. And for whatever reason, they had become a target.

Spencer opened the door to the conference room, where the team were waiting. Most of them sat at the round table where they had several files and papers scattered in front of them. But at the entrance of Reid and his secret wife, they each turned. She offered them a weak smile before the man, whom she assumed was Hotch, spoke up, "Sadly we don't have much time for small talk, but we all want to help." He stood over towards Y/n and offered her his hand, "Aaron Hotchner."

She shook his hand, "Hotch, I should have known." And then she glanced around the table at the rest of the agents. Without hesitation, she named them all, "JJ, Emily, Rossi and Morgan." She smiled at each of them. "Spencer talks about you all a lot."

The boy next to her grinned every so slightly. "I wish we could have met differently." Morgan offered as he stood up, "Take a seat, we'll run you through what we know."

Y/n followed Spencer as the two sat at the round table and the tv screen in front of them started filling with papazzi-style photographs of the woman. Her grocery shopping, her at a bar with some friends, and even one from this morning: hand in hand with Jay as she led the two children into the bookstore they adored.

"You said this has been going on for a month?" How could that have been the case and she had no idea?

Hotch nodded, "We believe so yes."

"Who would want to do this?" She questioned; she wasn't exactly an interesting person. She had a normal life - as the pictures had proven.

Spencer took her hand, "We erm, we're not sure yet. We have one theory."

The tv screen clicked onto another slide. A woman's face filled the screen. A woman whom Y/n had heard far too much about: Cat Adams. "We know Adams has an obsession with Reid, and well, we know she likes to target his personal life," JJ informed as Y/n recalled the days in which Diana had been held captive. "If she somehow found out about you, it would have set her off."

"But she's in prison." Y/n pointed out.

Emily shrugged, "She was in prison when she found Reid's mother. She's- She's a master manipulator and ever since Reid first encountered her, he was the first man to challenge her." All of which Y/n already knew.

"If you really think it's her then-" Her eyes gazed over at Spencer, filled with worry, "You're going to have to talk to her aren't you?" It wasn't a question; she knew it.

Spencer sucked in a breath before he dared to nod.

It didn't take them long. Before Y/n realised it, she was watching out the window of the conference room as two prison guards held Cat by either one of her arms. She was smiling- no, she was smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes gazed around the office until she was forced into an interrogation room.

All they needed to know was who her contact was. Once they had a name, they could find them and put whoever that was in prison too.

Y/n stood next to Spencer as they stared at the woman through the double-sided mirror. "If she's done all this to get to you, why are we letting her talk to you?" The girl questioned.

"She always slips up in front of Reid." Emily answered - despite how much they all hated the idea.

Rossi was the first to pose another opinion, "What if we give her something she isn't expecting?" He suggested, "What if we don't give her Reid?" Surely, if the team sent in someone Cat Adams didn't expect, then maybe she would slip up just as easily - if not more so.

The older man shared a glance with Emily. A glance of which allowed them to silently suggest something; the two had an idea that wasn't yet shared with the rest of the group. It wasn't until Emily's eyes landed on Y/n that they started to understand what the two were thinking, "What if- What if we sent Y/n in?"

The girl scoffed; that must have been a joke. "You're kidding, right?" She laughed. "I mean, I'm not- I'm an agent. I'm a normal person. I can't talk to a criminal!"

"That's exactly what we need," Spencer spoke aloud without even realising, "She's expecting me, she's expecting FBI, send in someone different and it might just make her slip." Spencer turned to face Y/n, one hand gently cupping her cheek as he spoke, "Especially if we send in the very girl she's jealous of."

Y/n's head shook; she couldn't. She was with Spencer, but she wasn't a part of his world, "I can't."

"You can," His voice soothed, "You can do anything."

"We'll be right here," Emily assured.

Y/n glanced back at the window, at the criminal who had targetted her. If this was their best shot, then she might have to take it. Her family was at risk for goodness sake. Once they figured out who  her partner on the otherside, all this would be over. The girl sighed, "Fine," She finally agreed. "But if anything happens, if she does anything, please-"

Spencer was already nodding, "We'll get you out of there, don't worry." He promised.

His hands fell from her skin before she glanced between the other two agents, "How do I do  this then?" She asked.

"Go in there, vague questions, act better than she is, because you are," Emily mentored, "We need to figure out how she's orchestrated this."

With those instructions, the girl nodded and Rossi handed her the file. The one of which was filled with the stalker photos of herself and the kids, "See what happens if you show her these too, it might tell us a lot." He explained.

And with that, with that grace of a nod, a peck to Spencer's lips, the girl headed into the interrogation room.

Cat Adams was nonchalant. She had learnt a lot. She had learnt the best way to not let BAU agents know what she was thinking. But sending Y/n in certainly hadn't been what she expected.

The girl swallowed as she took the seat across from Cat with a very weak smile. She gazed up at the woman who had suddenly grown a sickly smile which made Y/n become nervous. She wanted to leave already, "Hi," Cat shrugged her shoulders and gazed softly at Y/n.

But the other girl was staring back with narrowed eyes, "Do you know who I am?" She questioned.

Cat leaned back and shrugged, letting out nothing but a hum. So Y/n leaned forward and placed one of the photos in front of the girl. It was just of her - no Jay or Morgan present. Just her, exiting her car as she headed to the store, "So you don't recognise this?".

She barely glanced at it, "Should I?"

"You know Doctor Reid though, don't you?"

Instantly, her demeanour shifted. But she desperately tried to hide it, "Bumped into him...sure." She shrugged it off.

Y/n thought for a moment before raising her left hand, wiggling her ring finger to show off her wedding ring to the girl, "Yeah well, I know him quite well." She said, watching as Cat's smile completely dissipated, "And he, well, he sort of mentioned you. I mean I sort of remember your name...remind me again? Carol? Cath-?"

"Cat." She cut in.

The girl faked a shock of realisation; this was exactly what Emily had asked: make herself look better than Cat.  "And you don't know me?" She glanced back to her wedding ring, "Wife." She spoke.

The girl huffed and smiled to herself like something was funny, "Yeah, good luck with that."

Y/n glared back at her, tilting her head. The words from Emily echoed through her mind. "And what do you mean by that?"

Cat doesn't want to answer that. More specifically, she doesn't want to answer Y/n. "He- he's complicated, I'm sure you're aware right? Girlfriend died, no dad around, mum got kidnapped, and well, god knows everything that's happened to his team." She almost finds it funny.

Y/n leaned her elbows against the metal table, "And you were the very person who took his mother. I know you, Cat. I know all you want is to win against my husband but tough luck, it's not going to happen." The girl tried to keep up her straight face but when facing Cat Adams, it seemed to be proving difficult.

She shrugged, "Maybe not before, but now I have you." Her eyes narrowed and suddenly Y/n grew nervous; she was behind this. All of it. "And of course, you two little munchkins." Her shoulders squeezed and she smiled sickly.

"So you do know them."

"I know everything."

A shiver flew down her spine. She was behind all of this. And Y/n couldn't help but ask: "And what do you want?" Y/n had some idea. This had nothing to do with her or the kids; it was all about getting back at Spencer.

She giggled, "Well there would be no fun in telling you, would there?"

"You can't do this myself yourself," Y/n stated. Once they had the name of whoever it was on the outside, they could get over this: they could move on.

The girl on the other side of the metal table simply shrugged, "Who says I am?" And like that, it was confirmed. Not only the fact that she was behind this, but that she had partner and the outsider. And that was all they needed  - for now, anyway.

With narrowed eyes, Y/n glared at the girl and started to stand from the chair. She didn't need anything else. She took a breath before turning her back, "You might want to look over your shoulder." Cat taunted.

Something of which, the girl had ignored as she continued out of the interrogation room. An exhale fell from her lips as she found herself back in the company of people she trusted. Of people she knew...with Spencer.

His hand instantly reached at her waist, pulling her close. The feeling of her skin at his releasing a relief she couldn't stop. He was safe. He was loving. He was her husband, "Are you okay?" He questioned before anyone else had the chance to speak.

The girl nodded but gave no words. What was she meant to say after a face to face with Cat Adams? "She's definitely behind this," Emily confirmed.

"She's working with someone too," Y/n added as she eased into the familiar feeling of Spencer.

"So now we know that," Y/n started as she gazed between the three agents, "What do we do now?"

"Now," Answered Rossi, "We get Garcia."

And so the group of them wandered over from the interrogation room and headed to what they called Garcia's 'cave'. And safe tp say was. No windows, just a lot of screens and several different sparkly things. Plush teddies, framed stock photos of puppies and a slingy which Jay was playing with.

"Hi," Y/n gleamed as she greeted her kids once more, "You two been good for Garcia?"

The woman stood from her chair, "They're angels," She smiled.

"We need your help now," Spencer said as they quickly entered back into the situation at hand. They didn't have time for small talk.

"Of course, anything."

And so she sat back at her chair as Spencer came to her side, beginning to list the profile they had started, "Look for names that pop up in the guest book of the hotel Montana, it's the building next to our house." Spencer informed and Garcia became manically typing. "They'll have been a guest for at least a month, cross check that with anyone from Cat's old life, work, college, high school, anything-"

"Nothing."

"What if- I mean surely whoever this person is would be using an alias," Y/n suggested.

A theory of which Spencer agreed with, "Bring up a photo of the guests who have stayed for a month."

Garcia followed: there were three. As they scrolled through high school pictures and then college- "There!"

A photo matched. A woman, same age as Cat, sickly sweet smile, fire red hair and geeky glasses. And then the name: Amy Duke. They had a name. They had everything Garcia could find. "That's got to be her," Emily confirmed.

"Garcia, send us everything." And like that, everything was go-go-go.

Y/n barely had a chance to speak before her hand was reaching out to stop Spencer from running off, "Hey," She called.

His hands cupped at her cheeks, "It'll be alright, I promise." He gave a smile which could ease her nervous a million times over. "Go home, I'll be there soon."

And like that, he was gone.

Y/n said her goodbyes to Garcia before taking her kids hand in hand and heading for the exit. She tried to not think about what Spencer was doing, about the woman he was facing. It was all too overwhelming. Instead, she focused on feeding her kids and getting them dressed for bed. It was horrible when they asked about where Daddy was - if he was coming home. All she could tell them was that it was going to be fine...even if she wasn't so sure of such herself.

She perched at the end of Morgan's bed, her door open, giving the woman a view of a sleeping Jay in the room across the hall. She didn't dare to leave her children when there was danger still looming over them. The girl watched as her daughter's chest rose and fell with her breaths. And after what felt like hours, the front door rustled open.

Y/n became alert, she flew up to her feet and wandered carefully out of Morgan's room. She lingered at the top of the stairs; what if it wasn't her husband? "Spence?" She called, worrisome.

He was already rushing up the stairs at the sound of her voice, "Hey, it's me don't worry." He met her at the top of the landing, engulfing his body around her. "It's over, I swear, she's been arrested, Cat is back in prison." Relief flooded her. "It's all over."

Her head gazed up at him, a slight grin brushing over her lips, "What a way to meet your second family, hey?" She giggled. And while the day had been horrid, there was some good out of it - she wasn't a secret anymore.

[sweethischier]

Don't Crush on Your Son's Teacher | NH

Word Count: 3.4k Summary: located in series masterlist! Warnings: might not be teacher/school accurate but I did my best! not edited or beta read Note: I know I said I'd get this out Tuesday, but I wanted to change some things first, so here ya go! Series Masterlist

Ever since you were little, you had dreamed of becoming a teacher, and now that dream was a reality as you set up for your first official ‘Meet the Teacher’ day. You stood in the doorway and admired the way your classroom was perfectly put together just the way you envisioned for probably the only time during the school year, and you couldn’t help but let tears well up in your eyes. You were endlessly grateful for all of the opportunities given to you and for the people who helped you get to where you are, and you hoped that you were able to make it all worth it by being the best teacher you could be. By making an impact on the lives of all the children who sat in front of you with eager eyes and excited minds.

Later that evening, children and their parents came and went and you could feel the anxious ball in your chest loosen until it was reduced to nothing but a slight twinge when you were approached with a question you hadn’t planned an answer for. Overall, you found it fairly easy to navigate through things with both parents and students, making mental notes on anything you thought you might need in the future.  By the time it was nearing the end of the event, you had met all but two students, one of whom had called to let you know he was sick. Well, his parents did. 

You were straightening things up around the classroom to pass the time when you heard the sound of a little boy's voice right outside the door. Your focus was instantly pulled in its direction, your eyes settling on a little boy with sparking brown eyes and a mop of curls atop his head. Trailing behind him was probably the most attractive man in Jersey as his smaller hand was enveloped in, who you’re assuming, is father’s much larger one. Your gaze lingered on him much longer than you intended it to, taking in as much of him as you could before you stopped yourself.  Shaking your head, you forced your gaze back to the boy you were assuming was Tobias, and you noticed that he was essentially a curly haired version of his father.

“Papa, come on,” He draws out, eyes bright as they scan the classroom around him.

“I’m right here, Toby,” The man deeply chuckles, his eyes finally meeting your own as you stand frozen by a group of the student desks.

You don’t miss the way he slightly stutters in his movements, but he was quick to recover and let a small, yet kind smile form on his face as they approach you. He has to correct his son's tone of voice after he shouts a greeting at you, encouraging him to try again in a calmer, quieter manner once he was closer to you. You meet them halfway, crouching so that you’re at eye level with him as you extend your hand to him. 

“Hi,” He tries again, carefully sliding his small hand into yours, “I’m Toby!”

“Hello, Toby,” You smile, your voice soft and sweet as you introduce yourself to him, “How are you?”

“Good,” He beams at you, and you can see that he was missing one of his bottom front teeth.

You hear his dad clear his throat, directing your attention and his sons to him as he squats beside Toby with raised eyebrows, “You’re supposed to ask Miss Blossom how she is, too. Those are good manners.”

“Right,” Toby nods, his face temporarily turning serious as he nods to his father before he turns back to you with the same smile back on his face, “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic,” You chuckle, making brief eye contact with his dad,  “Would you like me to show you where your seat is?”

After giving Toby a thorough tour of the classroom and getting to know him as much as you could within the short time frame, you showed him the small area full of various types of toys. He was quick to find a spot on the floor and start sifting through the bins of fidget toys as you stepped away from the pair to grab a folder from your desk. When you turned to walk back towards them, you found that Nico, whose name you learned in the short lull of conversation with Toby, was already looking at you. Fighting off the blush that was tinging at your cheeks, you took the seat across from him at the shorter-than-average table.

“These are just a few papers I would typically send home with Toby on the first day, but I figured we could go over them now since it’s just the two of you,” You informed him, swallowing the bundle of nerves in your throat.

“Sounds good,” He nods, his voice deep and thick with an accent you weren’t familiar with, “We’re not keeping you are we? I know we got here a bit late.”

“Oh, no,” You shake your head, “You guys are fine, I promise. I’ll be here much later, anyways.”

“I hope you’ll be getting enough rest,” Nico’s tone was genuine and worried as he draws his eyebrows together.

Ignoring the way your chest warmed at his sentiment, you pulled out the first paper in Toby’s folder, “This is just a student information sheet. You filled one out with the school directly, but I prefer to have my own paper copies as well.  It just asks for the best forms of contact in case of emergency, any current allergies, and anything else you think needs mentioning.”

Nico takes the paper from your grasp, his eyes scanning the words on the page before hesitantly looking up at you, “Can we put anyone down for the secondary contact? His mother isn’t in the picture.”

“Of course,” You assure him, trying to ease some of the slight apprehension that was laced in his voice,  “Fill it out however you see fit, Mr. Hischier.”

“Nico,” He rushes out, inwardly cringing at how desperate it sounded, “You can call me Nico.”

“Right,” You bashfully smile, your fingers pinching at your thigh, “You can fill it out however you need to, Nico.”

Once school officially started, Nico was long forgotten as you became swamped with piles of work to grade and projects to plan. You were slowly finding your footing in the teaching world, not afraid to ask the other teachers for help when you felt like you were at a loss and had hit a brick wall. The kids were warming up to you as the days passed, which was both a good and bad thing as they started trying to test their limits and your boundaries to see what they could get away with. Despite those occasional fits of overwhelming emotions, you were almost always content with the way the week ended.

The middle of the week was always the hardest for you. The energy the students had after a relaxing two days was dwindling, but their excitement for the upcoming weekend was igniting in their small bodies. They never wanted to focus on their work, so you had to find projects and worksheets that were fun enough to keep their attention, but also informative enough that they were still learning. This week you had given them a word search with their current sight words, and they had to color each word a different color. It seemed to occupy their minds as their once loud, boisterous voices quieted down to a slight murmur while you graded papers. 

The sound of your desk phone ringing startled you, your body slightly jolting at the sudden disruption. Dozens of eyes landed on you as you encouraged them to keep working before you picked up the phone, glancing at the small screen that told you who was calling. You quietly spoke your greeting into the receiver, making sure to keep your voice low enough to not disturb the kids any further. It had taken far too long to get them as quiet as they were, and you didn’t want to have to restart. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Blossom” Sharon, the front office lady you adored more than anything, greeted, “I had a phone call with a Mr. Hischier requesting his child be put into the after-school program today, and since you run the program with the first graders and he’s in your class, I figured I’d let ya know.”

There was an unmistakable wave of nerves that washed over you at the mention of Nico, but it was quickly smothered by the feeling of shame. Nico was the parent of one of your students, and while finding him attractive was technically okay, developing any sort of crush on him wasn’t. One of the older teachers told you that you were going to be tested in ways you never thought of, and you couldn’t help but think that one of your lessons came in the form of an attractive, assumed-to-be single parent.

“Thank you, Sharon, I appreciate that. Is there anything I should tell Toby,” You clear your throat, your eyes scanning the room until they land on the six year old. He’s got his tongue slightly sticking out as he focuses, red crayon aggressively coloring the paper in front of him.

“Just that he’s staying after school since dad is working late, but that’s it,” She informs you, and you can faintly make out the sounds of her keyboard, “He didn’t sound too urgent, and he said he’d drop off payment once he got here. Can you keep it in your desk til the morning? I’ll come by and get it during lunch tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that,” You agree, smiling though she can’t see you. 

“Thank you, sweetie. Have a good rest of your day!”

You waited until Toby was finished and bringing his paper to the bin for their finished work to ask him to come to your desk. You made sure to keep your tone light and easy, not wanting him or any of the others to feel like he was in trouble for something. He had a toothy, worthless smile on his face as he approached your desk, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet when he was stopped in front of your desk. 

“I finished,” He beams.

“Yes you did,” You chuckle, “Good job, bud! I’m proud of you. Mrs. Sharon just called to tell me you’re staying with me after school because your dad has to work late. Does that sound fun?”

You watch as a whirl of emotions pass through his big brown eyes, and you began mentally preparing yourself for whatever possibility you could think of. While Toby was a relatively easy-going kid, he was just that; A kid. He was still learning how to regulate his own emotions and he might grow upset about a sudden change in the schedule he had grown accustomed to. However, it slightly shocked you when all he did was let his eyes flutter closed and take a deep breath before he met your gaze again. 

“I guess,” His voice was monotone and unsurprised, “He works a bunch.”

“We’re going to watch really cool movies, or we can play some games if you want,” You try your best to keep your tone level, not wanting your emotions to get the best of you. You hated seeing your students sad or let down in any capacity, and you were still learning to regulate that. 

This time, he doesn’t say anything in response before he shrugs his shoulders and walks back to his desk. It was moments like these that prodded at the empathetic part of your personality, making the desire to cross out of teacher territory and into friend stronger than normal, but you didn’t. You let Toby go back to his desk and hoped that talking to his deskmates might cheer him up a bit. If he still seemed down by the end of the day, you would try to talk to him then.

When Toby realized two of his friends from other classrooms were among the few staying after school, his mood noticeably improved. He kept himself engaged in the game of  ‘superhero’ they had come up with, and he even acted as a buffer between the two others when they started to argue over who was going to be who. Toby’s social and verbal skills had always impressed you, and it was times like that when your mind briefly drifted to his father. He appears to be an active and engaged role model, memories of his appropriate correcting on meet the teacher night flashing in your mind, and, as someone who didn’t necessarily have that growing up, you admired that about him.

The pickup deadline was quickly approaching and all of the kids had been picked up, except for Toby. He didn’t appear to be upset about the fact, bidding his friends goodbye when their respective guardians came to get them before he asked you to sit with him at the art table. You, of course, followed him to the table and took the seat next to him, following his actions of grabbing a piece of paper and a few markers. While you aimlessly doodled, he was dialed in on the blank page in front of him with more focus than you’d seem him have all year. 

“Miss Blossom,” His soft voice suddenly calls out as he turns to you, “Look!”

He roughly places a piece of paper in front of you, and you make a show of carefully inspecting it. He had drawn himself and who you assume is Nico on a pair of what could be ice skates, but you weren’t sure. 

“That’s me,” He points to the smaller figure, “And that’s papa. We’re playing hockey!”

“How fun,” You smile, eyes darting to him as he leans back in his seat,“Do you guys play hockey a lot?” 

“Duh, Miss Blossom,” Toby giggles to himself, “That’s his job. He’s the captain for the Devils! He takes me there a lot.”

When Nico finally reached the classroom, he briefly pauses in the doorway when he sees you sitting at the table. Your hair was pulled back away from your face, but, even from where he was standing, he could see a few stray pieces framing your face when you turned to look at Toby. Despite it not being against any sort of actual rule, part of him felt shameful for being attracted to his son’s teacher. He had to remind himself that she was kind because it was her job to be, she was attentive because it was in the best interest of her student, but none of those reminders made it easy for Nico to ignore the fact that she was single-handedly the most beautiful woman he’d laid his eyes on. He saw your gaze almost flicker towards him, and he quickly jumped into action by knocking on the door so he wasn’t caught staring.

The sound of knocking forces your attention away from Toby and towards the door. Nico was stood there with a slightly frantic look on his face, his hair damp and untamed as if he had been running his hands through it, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary sharp intake of your breath. His eyes meet yours and his lips turn upwards into a small, apologetic smile as he steps into the room. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt; a simple outfit that he made look breathtaking. You find yourself having to force your gaze elsewhere, much like you did during your first meeting, but there was no use in fighting off the way your cheeks heated up. Hopefully he didn’t notice.

The second Toby’s eyes landed on his dad, he was instantly out of his chair and running towards him with his drawing in hand. You rise to yourfeet as Nico takes the paper from his son, a genuine smile forming on his face when he realizes what it was meant to be. You opt to not join the two of them, letting them talk amongst themselves while you tidied up the table. It wasn’t until you were sliding the bin of markers back where they belonged when you heard the sound of someone not-so-subtly clearing their throat behind you.

Nico stood there with his hands in his pockets, eyes anxiously looking around while Toby gathered his stuff to put into his backpack. You quickly straighten your back, turning your body fully towards him as you nervously smooth your shirt out with the palms of your hands. There’s about a foot and a half between you, but his presence still felt like it was surrounding you entirely. 

“I want to apologize,” Nico starts, letting his dark brown eyes meet your own,  “For being so late. Again.”

You can’t help but let out a playful chuckle before collecting yourself enough to say, “No need to apologize, Mr. Hischier. ”

You don’t miss the way his mouth slightly twitches as if he wants to correct you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles on his feet and shakes his head, a few strands of hair falling in his face. He hastily brings his hands up and brushes them back, and you felt a twinge of embarrassment creep along your neck when you found the simple act so attractive. 

“Still,” He starts again, crossing his arms against his chest, “I know it was a last minute change, and you’re here waiting on me again.”

You have to force yourself to not look at the way his biceps looked pressed against him. 

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble,” Nico continues, quickly glancing at his son as he rummaged through his desk.

“Oh, he wasn’t,” You enthusiastically assured him, “He was very well behaved and social with the other students. We had a good time.”

“Yeah, Papa, I had fun,” Toby loudly agreed as he bounded to his fathers side, pushing back the stray curls that fell in his face, “Can I stay every day?”

Nico falls to eye level with Toby, squatting as he fixes the straps of his backpack and says, “Not every day, bud, but maybe sometimes. I’m glad you had fun.”

You watch as the two of them interact, a small smile tugging on your lips. It was clear the two of them were very close and Nico was doing a good job raising him seemingly by himself, and you silently praised him for that. Single parenthood wasn’t easy for anyone, but you could tell he was doing his best. You were torn from your thoughts as Nico rose to his full height and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of cash.

“Sharon said to leave this with you,” He politely informs.

“Right, thank you!”

As you reach to take the money from him, your fingers brush against his own and a jolt of electricity shoots all the way to your feet. Your eyes widen at the sudden sensation, staring up at Nico who was mirroring your reaction almost perfectly. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling at quicker than normal pace. You were the first to pull your hand away, and there was no denying the blatant lack of warmth exactly where his touch barely grazed you. It was taking every ounce of willpower you had to keep yourself professional and composed, and you just hoped you were able to keep it up for the rest of the year.

Nico’s heart was racing in his chest at even the most mniscle contact from you, and it made him feel something he hasn’t felt in a long time. A warmth spread from the tips of his fingers, up his arm, into his chest, and up his neck until a light, almost unnoticable blush was decorating his cheeks. It was an unmistakable feeling, and Nico knew he was screwed when he finally accepted just what he had been trying to deny.

He had a crush on his son’s teacher.

[reidsdimples]

Like Kids Again 🫶🏻

Spencer Reid x reader

Friends to lovers// angst// loss

You swing your door open, already aware that Spence is on the other side. It's late but you told him he was welcome anytime and tonight he needed you more than ever. He lost one of his co-workers in a shooting but couldn't tell you anymore than that.

He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, the shadows beneath them darker than usual, his shirt was untucked, and his tie had been discarded God knows where. He leaned on the door frame with his head hanging low in defeat.

"Oh Spence," you sigh and open your arms.

He stumbles into your small frame and drapes his head over your shoulder. His strong arms squeeze you tight and you just hold him. Spencer had been your best friend for many years and you had never seen him so broken. Not since Tobias Hankel, but this time his sorrow weighed heavily on him more than his anxiety. The grief radiating off of him, nearly choked you.

"I know you can't talk about the details," you hold his face between your hands so that he looks at you. "But talk to me as much as you can. Okay? Don't shut down on me Spence."

His bottom lip quivers and tears spill from his eyes but he nods his understanding. You finally push the front door closed and he follows you to the couch.

He lays his head in your lap and tucks pulls his legs up to his chest. You don't even mind the shoes on the couch, his red converse were so uniquely him, that it made you smile. You gently push your hands through his hair to soothe him. You just let him break down, let him sob quietly until he can't anymore.

"I'm right here," you whisper softly.

"I felt him die. I felt his..." he trails off. He turns over and looks straight up towards the ceiling. "I felt his breathing stop, his life leave his body. I couldn't," his voice cracks. "I couldn't stop it."

"It's not your fault," you console him. You push the strands of hair from his cheeks where they were stuck there from tears.

"You sound like Hotch," he offers a weak smile.

"No I mean it," you insist. "You didn't pull the trigger."

He shakes his head and squints his eyes, trying to take in your words. He looks up at you through thick eyelashes.

It’s then that you notice his hands. Not the way you usually do, in that they’re incredibly attractive. But you notice that there is dried blood under his nails. You take his hand in yours and examine it closer. His eyes close when he notices what caught your attention and a few tears fall.

“Come here,” you instruct softly.

You take his hand and lead him to your bathroom.

“I showered, I just couldn’t get it all,” he murmurs. He’s staring at the floor. In the room but a million miles away.

Your best friend, your Spence. Oh your love. He will never be the same again. Your heart aches and you push down the chocking need to cry that grows in your throat.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

You guide his hands under the warm water and soap up the nail brush. You hear him sniffle as you scrub his friend’s blood from his nails. It’s not something you ever thought you would be doing but you’d do anything to make him okay. You can’t imagine the turmoil he’s feeling.

He leans into you while you work on his other hand, his tall frame somehow heavier than usual. His movements are slower, more defeated.

“Thank you,” her murmurs as you feel dry his hands.

“Here, sit,” you instruct him to set on the edge of your bed.

You gently squeeze lotion into your hands before massaging one of his between yours. You gently rub the pressure points and pay special attention to his fingers before repaying on the other hand.

“There, good as new,” you smile gently.

Spence examines his hands and the weight of the world seems to lessen just a tad.

“Can you…” he begins nervously. He looks up at you and you know what he needs. You gesture for him to kick off his converse and crawl into bed.

“Like when we were kids,” you nod.

When the two of you were kids, he would sneak next door and crawl into your bed when his parents were fighting. You would hold him forever. Just like he did for you when you needed it.

“Like when we were kids,” he grins.

You crawl into bed behind him and latch onto him. It was much easier when he was smaller than you, but puberty changed that.

You hand him your small stuffed lion that you’ve had since you were ten. The one he gave it to you for your birthday. He looks at it and pulls in to his chest.

As adults the two of you don’t have these moments as often. You’re reminded of how much you missed his closeness, his scent, his soft breathing, and his affection.

You gently rub his arm, tracing small circles and patterns.

“Guess?” You ask him. He nods. It’s a game you two played as kids.

You trace ‘hi’ on his arm and he huffs a small sweet laugh.

“Hi,” he answers.

Next you trace ‘ILY’.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Familiar warmth fills you, you know you’ll never love anyone the way you love him. He’s always been your love. Your Spence.

You’re hit with a sudden pang of dread. What if it was Spence that had been shot and killed? You still. Dread giving way to guilt.

Guilt that you’ve harbored a deeper love for him for so long and never said anything. Fear that one day it could be too late.

He squirms and turns in your grip.

“What is it?” He’s looking up at you in the dark and he’s breath taking. Even with tired eyes and disheveled hair. Especially so even.

You shake your head. You’re not gonna burden him with your worries when he just lost a friend.

“I just miss this. Behaving like kids,” you laugh softly. “I half expect to wake up to a fort built around me again.”

You recall the time he built a massive fort around your bed without you even waking up.

He pushes your hair from your face and holds your cheek.

“I need to tell you something. If you listen, I might just build that fort while you sleep,” his eyes sparkle a little.

“I’ll listen but you need to sleep. No fort building,” you flick his nose softly. It earns a small smile and a breathy laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says so softly that your ears ring. You jolt, staring at him.

There’s no way he said that, you had to be dreaming. He was just your best friend, your best friend that you buried feelings for. How could he possibly feel the same way?

“Are you sure this isn’t the near death experience talking?” You ask. You run your hand up his arm and punch his ear lobe.

“I’ve loved you more deeply than I’ve let on for years. I can sense that you feel it too. I see no reason to run from it,” he smiles and it’s a relieved one.

“Spence, I love you too. I…” you stammer. He knows that. “I mean I’ve fallen for you too,” you giggle.

You scoot closer to him so that your legs intertwine with his and your chest is pressed into his. His smile is refreshed and hopeful, the grief still lingering in his eyes though.

He kisses you softly on the forehead and you nuzzle into his neck.

“Tonight we’ll just be kids again,” he sighs.

“And tomorrow?” You ask, squeezing him tighter.

“Tomorrow, I get to be wholeheartedly in love with you. No hiding, no restraints,” he whispers as his hands play in your hair.

Your heart soars and you can’t believe it. Your love. Your Spence, loves you back.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” you smile into him.

The two of you fall into content silence. You watch the tree branches sway in the moonlight outside until Spence falls asleep in your arms. It is then in the steadiness of his breathing that you find sleep as well.

[ilguna]

Hey! I love your work so much. Can you do 4 with four (tobias) from divergent ?

☼ succeed (tobias eaton) ☼

warnings; swearing, fighting, blood mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 4. "Why do you sacrifice so much for me?"

notes; tweaked canon, obviously. not really noticeable unless you’re a huge fan.

--

Dauntless initiation is—unsurprisingly—far from what you thought it would be. To be fair, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you were expecting in the first place. All you know was that you were going to be in for a ride when they made you jump on and off of a moving train directly after transferring. 

This gave you a clue of what was to come, of course, but you took it in a different direction. If they wanted to see how daring you could be by risking your lives, then maybe that meant you’d be doing dangerous tasks throughout the rest of the month. 

On the first day, you assumed that you’d be learning how to throw away your inhibitions and solely rely on your instincts. An idea that isn’t incredibly outlandish when it comes to Dauntless. After all, they’re the ones in charge of security and wall perimeter—the jobs that can end up being deadly.

This is why you didn’t have a significant reaction when you were informed by Four that they’d be introducing you to self-defense. They proceeded to hang you a gun, gave you a target, and told you to shoot until your bullets were gone. And after lunch, they brought you to a large room where you were taught how to properly fight an opponent.

This is when reality had begun to set in. They were not teaching you this in case the situation ever arose, but because they wanted you to use it in the coming week. You’re going to be forced to defend yourself, whether you like it or not. They were just being courteous enough to teach you how to, first.

You didn’t figure this out until yesterday when you saw the chalkboard. While it had previously been devoid of writing, it suddenly held a list of names side by side, pairing initiates up together. For the first few minutes, you were under the impression that it was for sparring.

When they sent Al and Will into the center circle together, instructed to fight one another, you looked at Four. You found his eyes already on you, arms crossed over his chest, face hard. In that moment, you remembered all of his warnings for you to pay close attention to the way he’d been throwing his kicks and punches.

It’s not like you were ignoring him, but you did continuously brush him off because he was being overbearing. He must’ve taken this as you just being a know-it-all Erudite, leaving you to figure it out on your own. You’d have to learn one way or another that your logic wouldn’t help.

When really, you hadn’t heard him when he said that you’d be fighting your fellow initiates. 

You were a deer in headlights when the rules were explained. In these fights, you are to keep going until one of you is unable to continue. And while you could concede, it won’t be done without going unpunished. In the old rules, a brave man can acknowledge the strength of others. In the new rules, made by the newest Dauntless leader, a brave man never surrenders.

You think Four may have recognized that a mistake was made. He was quick to come up with an escape, albeit at the cost of your pride. He called you out in the middle of Eric’s explanation, telling you not to be sick on the floor unless you wanted to clean it. All you had to say was that breakfast wasn’t settling well, and you were excused to go sit down with a trash can.

With there being ten initiates in your group, there should’ve been five fights. You sat out, making it four, but none of you made it past the second one. Will and Al fought just fine, Al even won. The next fight to happen was Christina and Molly, which was following the same pattern as the first fight, until Christina decided that she wanted to concede.

That’s when you were informed that a punishment would go along with it. Eric was pissed, dragging Christina all the way to the chasm in the Pit that hangs above the river, barking at the rest of you to follow. He then made her climb to the other side of the railing and forced her to hold on to the bridge by her hands until he was satisfied.

When she didn’t fall to her death, you were dismissed for the rest of the day. This destroyed your plan of analyzing the fighting techniques of the others to figure out what you’re supposed to do. To make up for it, you thought you could come practice in the middle of the night, but the doors were locked.

So, to put it lightly, you’re screwed. The only way to learn now is from the fights that will be taking place, and even then you’ll still be at a disadvantage no matter how you approach it.

As soon as you step foot into the training room, your eyes find the chalkboard, curious to who you’ve been paired up with today. Yesterday, it was supposed to be Tris, the Abnegation transfer. She would’ve been a good first fight to figure out how you want to be in the ring, but that opportunity has passed.

Today, you are given more of a challenging opponent—Peter.

“Oh no,” A voice says, you glance over your shoulder to see that Christina is limping her way over to Tris. Her face is fairly bruised from the beating she received from Molly yesterday. “At least you aren’t paired with Peter.”

Both of them look in your direction, and you accidentally lock eyes with Christina for a moment. You press your lips together in disgust and turn away, no longer interested in their conversation. You are not a member of Erudite anymore, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop seeing you that way. Not until you prove to them that you’re not snot-nosed. 

You turn your attention to Peter, who’s got a good few inches on you. Which wouldn’t be an issue, much less have you worried, if he didn’t have the muscle he does. This fight could easily go two ways, but you have a feeling it’s leaning in his favor more than yours. 

“Maybe she can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious.” Al suggests loud enough for you to hear. “No one would blame her.”

You grit your teeth at the idea of taking the cowards way out, something that you won’t be doing, no matter how tempting it is. Even if it does work out in your favor, there’s no telling what Eric will do to you when he figures out that you’d faked it. While he made Christina hang from the chasm by her hands, he’d tell you to do something much worse. Or kick you out of initiation altogether for not having the Dauntless heart.

Which isn’t true. You belong here.

Fortunately, you and Peter are not the first fight of the day, it’s Edward and Molly. You might as well be, though. The pair of you are listed directly underneath them. You think that you’d even prefer being the first to go. If you could get it out of the way, you would.

As you mindlessly watch Edward and Molly, you try to pick out some of their moves to remember with Peter. Four had taught the group of you the basics to get started, he never said that you couldn’t mix in what you know as well. Which is nothing, because you’ve never got into a fight before. There was never a need to.

The personalization works out in Edward’s favor. The technique that Molly had used yesterday on Christina is fairly predictable. On top of that, she’s not fast enough to keep up with Edward’s pace. It’s only a matter of minutes before she’s beaten near-unconscious. That’s when Drew and Peter work together to peel her off of the wooden floor and to the nearest wall to recover.

In the short time you have, you take a couple of deep breaths, shaking your hands to rid the anxious energy that’s fueling your body. You make eye contact with Four briefly, and in this time, he gives you a solid nod. He’s confident in your abilities, more so than you are. It’s a shame that you’re probably going to let him down.

Still, you walk your way to the white circle, standing at one end of it while you wait for Peter. When he finally turns his attention to you,. There’s a smile spread across his face, 

“You okay there, Blowhard?” Peter teases, you can almost feel your eyes bulge out of your head at the nickname. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry.”

“Did you just call me a Blowhard?” You sputter out a laugh. “What does that make you, a Crybaby?”

You look past Peter, at Four, who’s standing side-by-side with Eric. His face is twisted, focused hard on the two of you in the ring. Eric, on the other hand, is tapping his foot quickly, impatience shining through.

Peter raises his hands by his face, elbows and knees bent as he begins to prepare for the fight. “Come on, (Y/n). Just one little tear. Maybe some begging.”

Without warning, you swing your leg at his side, intending to land a kick. He’s prepared for this, grabbing your ankle and yanking you forward, pulling you off balance. You land on your back, but quickly twist to get back to your feet, fists returning, readying yourself.

“Stop playing with her.” Eric suddenly snaps. “I don’t have all day.”

This is enough for Peter, as the amused look on his face disappears. His movement is one giant blur, but the pain in your jaw is sharp, as it continues to spread across your face. For a moment, bright white stars and a black void flow across your vision, taking your balance with it. 

You blink rapidly, backing away from Peter as you try to get the room to stop swaying. This lasts for a few seconds at most, because Peter is moving just as quickly as Edward had been. He appears in front of you, foot slamming into your stomach, stealing the air from your lungs. 

You clutch your ribs as you fight through the pain in your abdomen. Peter takes this as an invitation to come closer, but you’re expecting this. You catch his fist as you slide your foot between his legs, tripping him. Instead of falling forward, you throw him back, twisting his arm in the process.

You land on your knees hard. The dull pain is at the front of your thoughts for a second before you’ve got your first slamming into Peter’s nose. You get two hits in, then he takes a fistful of hair at the back of your head, yanking. He repays the favor by punching you in the nose.

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick or slap, because he’s got a tight grip. The next hit he lands is to your ribs, in the same place that you’d been holding onto moments prior. You open your mouth, letting out a strangled cry, and a metallic taste spreads over your tongue. One word comes to mind; blood.

He lets go of your hair, shoving you away. You land on your palms, gasping through your lips, eyes blurry with tears as you search the ground for the white paint. You begin to crawl away, wanting to put some distance between the two of you while you take a breath, but he grabs your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

He draws his foot back, and despite knowing what’s coming, you don’t move in time, letting the toe of his shoe sink into your skin. You cough, the next few seconds are agonizing as you forget how to breathe, like a fish out of water.

“That’s enough.” Four’s voice breaks through the silence. “Get her out.”

“She’s still moving.” Eric tells him. “She gets out when she can no longer go on.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you move to roll over. You won’t play pretend, you refuse to take the easy way out. You are not an Erudite anymore, you won’t run. You’re going to fight.

Somehow you manage to get to your feet, fists raised, eyes barely focusing on Peter long enough to keep track of him. You gather the blood in your mouth, spitting it at his feet.

“Come at me, you little bitch.” You murmur.

Peter flies across the circle, fist coming at your face. You manage to catch it with one hand, and with the other, you slap him with an open palm. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the air, there’s a few audible gasps in the room.

It’s over, you think. Just before Peter knocks your lights out.

When you come back to Earth, you’re suspended in the air, swaying from side to side. You’ve never been motion sick before, but the dizziness is so hard to handle that this is enough to send you over the edge.

“‘M gonna be sick.” You mutter.

The world stops moving for a second, and then you’re placed on your feet. Your hands reach for something to hold on to as support. They come into contact with another hand, which you wrap your fingers around tightly as your breakfast comes back up as a liquid.

When you’re done, you turn to face the person who had just been holding you in their arms. You’re met with Four, who has his eyebrows raised, waiting for you to say something.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For putting me down.” You breathe, leaning over with your hands on your knees. “And for trying to get me out of there. And for delaying my fight yesterday.”

When you look at him again, there’s a softer look on his face, different from the scowl that you’re used to seeing. He reaches over, rubbing a hand over your back. “It’s okay, (Y/n).”

“You could’ve gotten in trouble with Eric.” You say, shaking your head as you move to stand straighter. “Why do you sacrifice so much for me?”

Four opens his mouth, and then closes it. It’s silent between the two of you for a minute as he decides how he wants to respond. Or maybe he’s thinking that you’ll change the subject. With your persistence, he sighs.

“Because you’re different.” 

--

this was part of my 3k celeberation!!

[spncvr]

waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses. 

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her. 

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it,  “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

idk if you're still doing these but how do you think the animorphs would do against the original X-Men?

[Obligatory joke about the X-Men having an advantage because they cloned Jake to make Bobby.]

Animorphs Advantages

Trust in leadership. Full offense to Scott, but he can be bossy and overbearing to the point where it causes infighting. Jake's team will not hesitate to go up against impossible odds at his command, and basically never questions his orders in the heat of battle.

Flight hours. Warren might outweigh Tobias by a good 200 pounds, but he doesn't spend literally 15+ hours a day 7 days a week flying around hunting. And Tobias gets very good at taking out bigger opponents like David's golden eagle or the helmacron ship.

Adaptability. The Animorphs can survive in most environments most of the time, and are nigh unkillable. Jean can be taken out by a rock to the head. Scott can be taken out by a rock to Jean's head.

X-Men Advantages

Coordinated attacks. They can and do hit their enemies from multiple fonts at once: Warren goes high while Hank goes low, Jean goes mental as Bobby goes physical, so on. The Animorphs' weapons are all variations on hitting or stabbing their enemies up close.

Sheer raw power. Scott can punch a hole in a mountain. Jean may or may not be able to destroy entire planets. Bobby can make an entire city in the time it takes Scott to level one.

The fact that they actually go to school. Hank's obviously the one with the big advantage over the C- average high school dropouts, but Scott, Bobby, and Jean are also smart enough to be teachers in some continuities.

Animorphs Disadvantages

Distance. This is always their drawback, but they only have melee attacks. Scott, Jean, and Bobby can all attack from half a mile away.

Leaky communication. A ton of their strategy depends on being able to talk to each other without their enemies hearing. Even if they figure out that Jean can hear every word they're saying, they're going to be massively hampered by their inability to talk privately during battles.

X-Men Disadvantages

Compassion. Assuming that this is winner-take-all no-holds-barred fight, the X-Men will not only hesitate to kill, but are likely to stop fighting if one of their own is killed. The Animorphs have no such pangs of conscience, or at least don't let those stop them.

Lack of control. All of them are, to some extent, afraid of their own powers or hesitant to use them. You don't see Rachel beating herself up about what'd happen if she let the beast win or got too much phoenix power.

Conclusion: I'm giving this one to the mutants. Sorry, morphers.

[turvi]

Rumours

WARNING: angst, cussing

Rumours have it that Severus Snape doesn't shower. There is nothing sexy about him. All the girls in Hogwarts want to avoid him like a plague, and the marauders painting him as an obsessive creep also does not help his case. Maybe that is why Y/n feels so wrong to feel attracted to the boy.

Every time she crosses paths with Severus she can't help but feel a sensation in her chest as he looks at her, she tries to tear her eyes away from the boy, but the intense look in Severus' eyes makes it difficult for her to look somewhere else or even think about something else.

But as fate would have it she was James Potter's cousin. Ironically, she is attracted to the boy her cousin picks on the most. She can't dare to look at him while her cousin is around. What if he finds out? If a random boy approaches her James comes between them and stares the boy until he leaves Merlin knows what he will do to Severus. Y/n hates how James treats her like a kid when she is only a year younger than him

Y/n is often lost in thought trying to figure out why she feels like this about Severus. What is it about his eyes that traps her?

One day as she walks to her class she was pulled into a broom closet. Her instant panic was replaced with relief when she found the same onyx eyes that has been haunting her thoughts all day. "What do you want?"

Her eyes flutter. Even though Severus was whispering it felt like his baritone voice shook every inch of her soul. Y/n somehow musters up the courage to speak up "what do you mean?"

Severus scoffed "don't act innocent. I see how you stare at me. What is it? You want to turn me into a clown as well, turn me into a toy like your cousin does that you can torment and torture whenever you feel like?"

Her heart broke. She knows his words were not targeted to her. Who would not snap like that after facing so much? "Say something dammit"

"I love you"

"Bullshit"

Y/n cannot blame him. For some reason she cannot find a reason to hate him. She is really trying to but there is a softness in his onyx eyes that makes her determined that there is more to Severus than just being a 'greasy haired creep'.

"You don't have to believe me, but I do love you. And I also know that you love someone else."

Severus groans "miss l/n you have no idea what you are talking about"

"I am not asking you to feel the same" Y/n says but her eyes tell a different story

After a few minutes silence Severus speaks again "you cannot feel for me like this. This is merely infatuation".

As he starts to walk away Y/n spoke up finally without any fear "You do not get to tell me how I feel Severus Tobias Snape"

Severus turns around. Feeling angry yet curious at the tone she picks on him "excuse me?"

A shiver ran down her spine yet she stood her ground "you heard me loud and clear I fucking love you Severus. Whether you like it or not and I am not letting someone take that from me. Not even you".

Severus was taken aback about the way this girl talked to him. He walks back towards her, his eyes looking at her intensely "and what if I never love you back" his voice lowers

Y/n scoffed "you don't get it do you"? Severus raised an eyebrow but she continues taking a step closer to him. Severus tries to look for disgust or anger in her eyes but all he finds is passion. She continues "Severus, my curse is not that you will never love me but my curse is living a life where I am not in love with you"

Severus feels his heart throb. No this is wrong. He clenched his fist hoping it is only because of the extra cup of coffee he had this evening but one look in her eyes....and there it was again.

A/N: Part 2? Maybe? REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKED THIS

Without a word he turns around and leaves. Y/n stood there and watched him dissapear in the darkness unaware of the tears that were right now falling down his cold cheeks

Part 2

[peaches-creek]

“That looks disgusting.” John grimaces.

“Your babies likes it.”

You were currently 5 months pregnant and eating cold broccoli with mayonnaise. These odd cravings just keep getting grosser and grosser to John but you know what they say, happy wife happy life.

“Are you sure that even tastes good?” He genuinely asks.

“I’m honestly not sure, it just itches the scratch.” You state.

He chuckles at that and gets back to doing the dishes. In the 5 long months that you have been pregnant, you have done close to nothing, especially when John’s home. You thought you would have the comfort of keeping up with busy work, but John has asked his mother to come over twice a week to “help out.” By helping out he means she comes early in the morning helps do laundry, cooks breakfast, chats with you for an hour, cleans with you, then leaves. Even when he’s gone it feels like he’s home. Usually because before he leaves he makes sure everything is taken care of, including house projects and groceries, he doesn’t want you getting any ideas.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“You still haven’t told me where we are going.”

“And I told you it’s a surprise.”

He helps you get your coat and then your shoes, your ankles have been so swollen and sore. No matter how long you sit with them up, they still hurt. You were pregnant with twins, so you were bigger than a person pregnant with one baby. And boy did it feel like it. You were always tired, always feeling like shit. But in the end it will be so worth it.

He helps you get into his truck and begins driving.

“We should really start to think about names.” You say.

“We don’t know the genders though, makes it a bit harder.”

“We could just make a good old fashioned list.”

“Yea, what are you thinking?”

“Maybe Tobias, if it’s a boy.”

“I think Josephine’s a good girl name.”

“I agree.”

He turns into a plaza, one that you frequent, it has the best shops in town, and the best hair salon, and the best nail salon. You wonder what he’s up to. He pull up to a parking space, right in front of the nail salon.

“I know your ankles and feet have been hurting, so I thought that maybe a professional would do better than I could.” He admits.your eyes start to well up with big fat tears.

“I’m gonna cry John, that’s so sweet.” You weep.

“You are already crying.” he laughs.

You reach over to give him a hug, though it’s awkward because of the middle console.

“I just love you so much.” You cry.

“And I love you.” He wipes your tears.

“Now let’s get you inside, we have to pick colors.” He says.