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[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

For A While...

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader -> You were first introduced to Spencer through Emily, however, six years later, it seems some things are beginning to change.

Disclaimer: 16+ CM level violence. Descriptions of torture, death and stalking. This is part two. Part one can be accessed here. Fluff towards the end. Pining. Angst (kinda). Not proof read.

Five Months Later…

The last five months had been like agony for Spencer. 

He’s spent the last five months trying his best to figure out his feelings for you until one morning he walked into work, determined to look less like a complete confused mess as he had done for the last several days. 

His tie was still a little crooked, but his hair was neater than when he’d rolled out of bed, and his shirt wasn’t creased. And with a coffee in his hand, he was waking up a little faster than usual. Except, just as he stepped through the doors, he saw you by your desk. 

No-one was in the office yet. You’d been removing your scarf and coat, laying them on the back of your chair when he spotted you and the voice in his head said…

I love you.

He’d shocked himself. 

Of course, he had already known his feelings ran deep for you. But it was the first time the actual words had been spoken out loud, or in the very least, to himself. 

And it had been agony ever since. 

He was pretty sure he managed to hide it, though he doubted that the team didn’t at least have their suspicions. If Emily had figured it out with only a couple of days, the team had seen them both for months. 

However, Spencer was certain of one thing. 

He had it under control. 

Like he had told Emily, he didn’t want to lose you. And if that meant forever being your friend, living with a cage around his heart when he was with you that felt as if it was crushing his soul, he could happily live with that. 

Until, one day, Spencer wondered why he’d built the cage in the first place. Because as much as he was aware of the dangers both of your jobs posed, he never thought he could lose you because of that. 

The team had been flown to Oregon for a case. Four women had been killed in the town, all with a similar look, background and lifestyle. And the further you were looking into the case, it didn’t just seem to be in Oregon. The bodies trailed over the years across the country, and from what you could figure, the first had been in Virginia. 

However, the longer you all worked on the case, the more the nagging feeling in your gut grew. Something felt too familiar about the case. 

“We have to be missing something. We already know this guy stalks his victims, right. He knows what they do for work, he makes sure he knows what they’re doing at all times. He prays for the right moment when they're alone or they’re away from their general routine.” 

“If it was a bigger pattern you could say he’s picking them at random.”

“But I don’t think he is. I mean, look at how each of the victims are described.”

They were described as smart, happy, hard working. If they ever stepped out of their routine, it was because they had to. The first victim drove a little out of town because her usual restaurant she ordered from was shut. The second because she needed cabinet hinges. The third because she needed to stop for gas but there was a diversion on the road, sending her to another. 

The rest of the team continued talking but when Spencer looked over to you, you seemed…off. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go and get some coffee. You guys want some?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer knew that look on your face a little too well. You needed space. Why, he didn’t know. But he also knew it was better not to follow you. 

Except, he couldn’t help but wish he could turn back the clock and do exactly that. 

An hour later, you still hadn’t returned. 

After twenty five minutes, they figured maybe there was a long cue. After thirty five, they figured maybe they had been changing the coffee filter just as you got there. 

When you didn’t pick up your phone after an hour…they got worried. 

So, sending Derek and Spencer to the coffee shop to try and find you, Hotch, JJ, Rossi and Blake stayed behind in case it was just that they were changing the filter and there was a long cue and your phone had died. 

Except, when Spencer and Derek returned half an hour later having searched up and down the block, in every cafe, coffee shop, convenience store and gas station, they all knew something was wrong. 

“She’s not any of them. The cashier said she hadn’t even come in today.”

“That’s not good.”

From the screen, Garcia popped up. 

“Guys, I’m getting a live feed. You’re gonna want to see this, though…I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

Garcia said nothing, but her face said it all. With a couple of clicks, the feed was up on the full screen and everyone in the police department was watching it. 

“How long have you had this Garcia?”

“The alert came in only a few moments before I called you, but according to the chat room, it’s been prepared for a couple of hours, but went live about forty minutes ago. I think you should also know, I was invited to this.”

“Invited?” JJ asked. 

“Believe me, I’ve had every corner that I know of, being monitored. But apparently this is a new one.”

Everyone looked a little closer to the screen, and eventually it got a little brighter. Most likely from a light on the further wall. 

And everyone’s hearts sank. 

It was you. 

You had a gash on your head, most likely where the unsub had hit you across the head. From the look on your face as you move your body ever so slightly, it wasn’t the only place on you that was wounded. 

The camera angles kept changing, offering a different view of the room, though there wasn’t much to see other than you, beaten and bloodied, zip tied and chained to a bolted down chair. 

Then someone came into shot. 

The unsub. 

He approached you slowly, bringing with him a damp cloth, gently pressing it to your head. 

“It’s okay. Take it easy.”

You forced your eyes open, but when you were met with the reality of who it was, your face turned into shock, fear, disgust and anger. 

You jerked back, unable to move any further than you had tried before. 

“Get the hell off me.”

“It’s okay, don’t be like that.”

The unsub spoke softly to you. 

“Get away from me. Get off me.”

“You don’t have to be like this.”

Then you spotted the camera. 

“You’re filming this?”

“I thought your friends might like to see it. See how safe you are.”

“Safe?!” both yourself and Spencer asked. 

“Garcia, can you get a clear shot of the unsub?”

“No, sir. He hasn’t looked at the camera fully.”

“Then look into Y/l/n’s past. She knows him. Or, he knows her. Maybe they’ve crossed paths somewhere before.”

“Already on it, Sir.”

It would take a little longer for the team to realise your relationship to the unsub. And your connection to the victims. 

“I told you you’re safe with me, you don’t have to worry any more.”

“You kidnap me and tell me not to worry?!”

“I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Why take her though? Why follow her? It’s too risky.”

“Maybe it’s his endgame.” Spencer said out loud, the cogs turning over and over in his head. Then he moved towards the evidence board, rearranging things around where he’d written your name in a bubble. 

He needed to keep moving, proving to himself he was alive. Or else he might break more than he ever had. 

“How would you describe her?”

“Smart.” JJ began, following what Spencer was getting at. 

“Hard working.”

“A stickler for routine. She’s fixed. Doesn’t often change what she likes.”

More comparisons came out and Spencer had proven his point. 

“I’m wondering if he was her first victim. Or if she was his catalyst.”

Everyone turned back to the screen when they heard a loud strike. 

“It WAS me!”

It took you a moment before you rolled your head back up and looked from the camera to him. 

“It never was you, that was the whole point.”

“Only because you couldn’t see what I could offer you.” He pulled a chair harshly in front of you and sat down. The camera still had a clear shot of your face, but just the back of his head. 

“I saw you, a few years ago. Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“That-that-that guy! The one you think you wanted! The one you thought could offer you everything!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Another strike across the face. Then he grabbed you. 

“I saw how you looked at him. Like he was the whole world. Your whole world.”

“When even was-”

“Six years ago. I was coming out of a bar. Couple of buddies wanted me to go with them but I knew I had to find you. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be waiting for me. Instead, I found you with him. Standing outside your apartment. I didn’t wait around for the kiss.”

His name slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

“So, you remember him? You remember him? You remember him…” 

Of course you remember him. How could you not? You worked with him every single day. 

The unsub was growing more emotional. From accusatory to confusion to a sadness of acceptance. 

Then anger. 

“You remember him!? And all he had to do was walk you home?!” The unsub laughed before pausing and kicking the chair over, sending it flying into a wall. 

You jumped at his quickness and the loudness of the noises. 

“Do you know how long I have been trying to get your attention?! How long I have spent trying to show you that you have feelings for me? You might deny it, but we both know it’s true. It has been since we first met. I know you didn’t know, but I saw it in your eyes, in that kindness you showed me when no one else did. You volunteered to be my partner, remember?”

“For the…the forest run?”

“You do remember.”

The unsub got down on his knees in front of you, clutching at your jacket. 

“See, this just proves-”

“I volunteered because Sophia didn’t want to be left alone with you.”

“What?”

“I opted to take her place to make her feel safe.”

As you continued to explain, Hotch and Garcia tracked your phone numbers and social media posts until she found Sophia. 

“So you don’t feel safe with me, but you’ll feel safe with Spencer?”

“Please, don’t bring him into this.”

“Why not?”

The unsub sat back. “Why not? Go ahead, tell me. This wouldn’t happen to be the same Doctor Spencer Reid, would it?”

You tried to deny it, but no words came from your mouth. 

The unsub became deflated. 

“And let me guess, you have feelings for him…you…you even…love him. Why do I not measure up? Because I don’t work for the FBI? Because I’m not a Doctor? What is it that makes  him so much better that he earns your love?”

“Please, just-”

“It should be me! What can he give you that I can’t?”

Then he pushed the hair from your face and held it against your head, forcing you to look at him. 

“I could have given you everything. I still can. Just tell them you’re safe, and I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you, ever again.”

“Please, don’t-”

He turned to stand behind you, forcing you to look directly into the camera where the team could see the trails left behind through the blood on your cheeks, where your tears had flooded through them. 

“TELL THEM!”

“Garcia, please tell me you have something.”

“Uh, maybe, I-I don’t know. I can’t be certain.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Garcia.”

“Well, I, uh-”

“Now, Garcia.” Spencer called out, his voice oddly even and a little cold. 

“Sophia said his name was Toby-something. But I’ve looked through her files, her socials. There isn’t a single Toby, or Tobias or even Tobe.”

“Can you get a picture of him?”

“I’ve got a few, I’m running them through my database now.”

“What about Emily?” JJ asked. Everyone looked at her. “She grew up with Emily, right? Maybe she’ll know something.”

Spencer was already on the phone. 

“Emily? Emily, listen to me. Was there anyone in Y/n’s past that she had trouble with? An ex boyfriend or something in college?”

“I- Reid, is everything okay?”

“Garcia will catch you up, but please. Was there anyone she talked about? Maybe a Toby-someone?”

Suddenly, Emily’s voice turned cold. “Reid, where is she?”

“Emily?”

“Back when she was in college, she was having trouble with a guy. Everyone called him Toby but his real name Jonathan. Toby was his middle name. He seemed fixated on her and one day, she found him in her apartment on campus. She called me and I got her out. After that, he seemed to disappear, but she always was weary.”

“Okay, send all the details you can to Garcia.”

“Already happening.”

All the team could do was wait and watch, hoping something would jump out at them to help find you. 

“Do you love him?”

“I need to hear it from you. Do you love him?”

He picked up a weapon of some kind. A knife maybe. 

“No, no, I can’t watch!” Garcia called out, turning her chair away. 

A backhanded slap came across your face, the edge of the knife, cutting your cheek. 

“Do. You. Love. Him?” Toby screamed louder. 

Garcia squealed a little, hearing his arm movement. But just when she expected you to scream in pain, anyone who was listening heard what you said next. 

“YES!” you screamed, fear of what was going to come next taking over. Maybe it would have been best to lie. But he wouldn’t have accepted it. And if he was going to kill you…

Toby faltered, looking down at you in heartbroken shock. 

“Yes, yes. I do. I love him. Please…please don’t hurt me…I-”

Toby dropped the knife, the sound clattering on the floor, and he stepped back. Even from behind, they could all see the changes in his body movement. 

From shock, heartbreak, to more shock to…anger. 

And fear flashed across your face. 

“No, no, no. Please. Toby- what-what are you doing?”

He was moving around the room, gathering things. 

“Toby, please. Please don’t-”

Then the screen went dark. 

“Garcia! Please tell me you have something!”

“Almost. Hold on. Wait.”

“We can’t-”

“The footage is still running. There’s no picture or sound, but it’s still running. Maybe if I can just- I’ve got her.”

“Garcia, send us the address.”

“Already done. Please bring her back safe.”

Toby had taken you forty minutes out of town, held up in a small town shed on a small plot of land he’d rented in cash, save for the electric bill that was in his name from a month earlier. Garcia couldn’t trace the address, but she could find the closest cell tower. And with a little cross reference, she found you. 

All the team could do was hope you were still alive by the time they got to you. 

It was agonising to listen to, but your screams let them know you were still alive. And when Morgan kicked down the door, Toby turned around you, holding your body against his front. 

He’d changed you from being tied down in the chair to being strung up by your wrists. By the looks of it, however, you had managed to fight back, presumably in the small window of time you did have. 

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“No you won’t, Toby.”

“Won’t I?!”

You whimpered a little as the blade pushed further into your skin. 

“You love her, don’t you? Don’t you want to see her happy?”

“She IS happy. She’s happy with me.”

“Really, Toby? Because I wouldn’t say she looks happy. I’d say she looks scared. Terrified, even.”

“No, no, no she’s not.”

“Morgan…”

“She loves me! She has to love me!”

“But she doesn’t. And do you really think this is how she’s going to fall in love with you? By forcing her into it?”

Toby changed. 

“Doctor Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid. This is him, isn’t it? This is the one that took you from me? Maybe once I’m done with you, maybe, maybe he’ll be next.”

“No…”

“Or you can choose me. Choose me and they don’t get hurt. Choose me and-”

You jumped at the sound. 

A gunshot. 

Everything went silent and then the knife clattered to the floor once more, soon followed by Toby’s body. 

For a moment, you heard JJ’s voice coming from Derek’s wire, and then everything came back into a blurry focus. 

“Is it over? Is-is he dead?”

Reid moved closer, checking his pulse before nodding to Morgan. 

“It’s over.”

“Thank god, please get these off me.”

Spencer was closer, taking his pocket knife out before cutting your binds, allowing you to stand fully on the floor once more. 

Your arms wrapped around Spencer both out of necessity, since your legs gave way for a moment, and out of need to hug someone, anyone, who wasn’t Toby. 

In his arms, Spencer could feel your entire body shaking. So he simply held you tighter. 

“Is-is it-are you sure it’s over?”

“It’s over. Let's get you out of here.”

Spencer helped you out of the shed before walking you over to the ambulance that was pulling up behind one of the SUVs. 

“P-please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

And he did. 

Spencer stayed with you as they helped you into the ambulance and drove you to the hospital, he stayed with you as the doctors talked you through where they were taking you and what would happen and he was right there waiting for you, as you had asked, when you got out. 

And when they finally found you a room, he stayed by your side, holding your hand. 

Even hours later, you were still shaking with nerves and adrenaline. 

“Have you called Emily?” you asked after a few hours of silence. 

Spencer nodded. “She knows what happened. She’s also said she’s gonna catch the next flight out once they open the airports in London. Some storms closed the runways.”

You just nodded. 

“Hey Spencer?”

Spencer hummed. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For…for what happened. I-I don’t know how much you saw from the footage but Toby…I should have lied. I should have tried to keep your name-”

Spencer shot out of his seat and sat on your bed facing you, slowly taking the hand you used to squeeze your eyes shut from crying, into his. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s-”

“It’s okay. All I care about is that you’re safe. Emily…she already knew. She… a couple months ago, she talked to me about it…because she figured that was how I felt about you.”

“Spence, no, you don’t have to-”

“We can talk about it more, when you’re better, but I just…I need you to know, you’re not alone. And I don’t want you to be sorry for what you said. Because, even though I’m sorry for how it had to happen, I’m not sorry about what was said.”

“You…you’re not?”

Spencer shook his head, looking down at your hands in his, his thumb tracing a constant pattern over your knuckles. 

However, the familiar clicking of heels down the hall broke your intimate silence. 

“We’ll talk about it?”

You nodded.

Garcia was calling out your name before she found your room and took a look at you. 

“Oh, thank god.”

“Penelope,” you smiled. 

And Spencer smiled, too. For the first time in the last week, let alone the last twenty four hours, you smiled. Genuinely smiled.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. If I-”

“It’s okay. You still found me. I’m okay.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again. And Emily will be here soon so it won’t just be me, you’ll have both of us. Maybe we can live like the Golden Girls.”

You struggled to laugh, but laughed all the same. “I’d like that.”

“Good, because you don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll give you two some space to plan your move,” Spencer smiled. 

You smiled softly back at him as he slowly walked out of the room, but not before Penelope called his name. “Bring her back some jello! Orange, if they have it!”

Spencer nodded, however he didn’t need telling why orange. It was your favourite. 

“How do you know that’s my favourite?”

“Emily told me.”

You smiled. There had been a week back in middle school when all you could stomach was orange jello. You’d have thought that after being sick for a week, you’d never want to eat it again. But that never happened. 

The doctors kept you in hospital for the next couple of days whilst the rest of the team helped finish the last couple of cases at the police department. 

When you were finally cleared to fly, Hotch and Emily were the ones to help you with your things. 

Hotch explained what would happen when you all got back to the Bureau and what would happen with yourself and your job. 

“I know you’ll be itching to get back to work, but I want you to take some time off.”

“I will. I promise.”

By the time you got to the jet, you weren’t up in the air an hour before you excused yourself from Rossi’s story time to sit by the one person who brought you the most peace. 

“Mind if I sit here?”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, making space for you beside him on the sofa. 

“Do you want to sleep?”

“What are you reading?”

He showed you. 

“Wizard of Oz.”

“Want me to read it to you? Studies have shown it helps with sleep.”

“I’d like that.”

Within twenty minutes, you were fast asleep against Spencer’s chest. He’s turned himself so you could lean against him and see the small pictures that had been drawn, as he read. 

And thankfully, Rossi’s stories kept everyone distracted long enough for yourself and Spencer to not experience the embarrassment of getting caught in such a compromising position, considering you were both just meant to be friends.

A week later…

Yourself and Spencer had seen Emily off in the Airport, and after that, Spencer had driven you home. You’d stopped off for some chinese food on the way back, and even though you’d both had…half conversations about what you’d said in the hospital, neither of you had come right out and said, well, anything. 

Until you stopped in your tracks, forcing Spencer to do the same. 

“Is everything-”

“I feel I need to confess something.”

“Do you need a church or-”

“It’s not that kind of confession.” you turned to face Spencer fully. 

In two weeks time, you’d be going back to work. And you couldn’t take another two weeks, plus additional ones of whatever the awkward…thing was between you both. Like you each knew each other's secret, but didn’t know its full whereabouts. 

“I love you,” you told him, finally. “I know it seemed forced, but it was the truth nonetheless. I love you. I am in love with you and…I don’t know what to do about it. Because, first and foremost, you’re my friend. And no matter what, I don’t want to lose what we have. I love you, but most of all I like you. I like being around you. I like listening to you talk about different books and music and the fact that whales can produce sounds up to 188 decibels. I-”

“I love you, too.”

That forced you to stop. And Spencer could see your eyes searching for an explanation. 

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is that one day I just…breathed for the first time. That I saw you and knew that if I stopped, I might die.”

“Sounds a little dramatic.”

Spencer laughed a little. “I guess it does. But it’s true. I’m in love with you. And I like you, too.”

You smiled. 

“You know, I had a crush on you for the longest time.”

“Really? How long?”

Part of it baffled Spencer that you had perhaps had feelings for him longer than he did you, but most of all it baffled him how he hadn’t noticed. 

“For a while…”

With a smile, you felt yourself leaning into Spencer. And he felt himself do the same thing until finally your lips met his. 

The kiss was gentle at first, but became a little more searing as his hand gently brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear, and pulled you a little closer. 

And you both just stood there for a while, pressed against each other, allowing each kiss to let you both know it was, in fact, very real. 

[reiding-writing]

I feel bad for sending one request after another but like okay hear me out, Spencer is cold and it's very obvious that his skinny ass purple scarf doesnt do much, so reader lends him theirs and he gets really flustered because it smells like them 😭

scented scarves [ s.r ]

Summary:

Vegas was a pretty warm city even in the winter, a stark contrast to Quantico’s freezing temperature. Needless to say, Spencer wasn’t fairing very well in the cold, and your offer of your scarf leaves him flustered and mildly overwhelmed.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid × gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: this one’s pretty short but i hope it suffices nonetheless!

thank you for the request, you’re welcome to send as many as you want <33

It was -2 degrees celsius. 28 degrees fahrenheit.

In other words, absolutely fucking freezing.

The joys of living in Virginia.

It was blatantly obvious which of your team members were acclimated to the colder climates, or more accurately, who wasn’t.

Anyone who walked into your office, profiler or otherwise, would be able to tell.

Garcia was wrapped up in a chunky knitted sweater, a pair of thick tights under her skirt as she padded across the bullpen back to her tech dungeon with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

Prentiss was wearing a shirt and a sweater, her hands held out in front of a mini heater on the top of her desk in a desperate attempt to warm up her extremities so the rest of her body would follow suit.

And Spencer…

Spencer was sat cross legged in his chair with two pairs of socks on, a knitted vest over his shirt and a cardigan over his vest, his signature purple scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his chin as his hands gripped his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from turning into a human icicle.

Poor Spencer Reid. Vegas really didn’t serve him well when it came to Quantico winters.

If his trembles weren’t so adorably funny you’re sure you’d feel bad for the boy, but instead you’re muffling a laugh as you walk across the bullpen to sit at your desk beside him, disposing of your bag under the table and unfurling your chunky knitted scarf from your neck to drape over the back of your chair.

One of the pros of being born and bred in Virginia is that you didn’t have to worry about freezing from the inside out.

Spencer’s eyes follow you as you take your seat, and you swear you can see him shudder when you remove your scarf, as if you removing a layer of warmth made him colder.

“You good over there?” You can’t help the amusement painting your face as Spencer stares at you like you’ve got a second head.

“How are you not freezing?” Spencer’s tone carries genuine bewilderment as his eyes scan what you’re wearing, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt, alongside a semi formal blazer that you also shed to lie over your chair.

“It’s climate acclimation Spence, you of all people should know that,”

His expression doesn’t change at your answer, continuing to blankly stare at you like some foreign species that had just invaded the earth. “I know that- logically… But still i’m literally shaking from how cold it is,”

“That’s what happens when you’re a Vegas baby who moves to Virginia,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as Spencer huffs, taking another sip of his hot coffee in attempt to regulate his body temperature back to something warmer, tucking the narrow purple strips of thin-knitted fabric under his chin to expose his mouth to the mug.

“That scarf isn’t going to do you very much you know, it’s basically a glorified fashion piece,” You weren’t trying to knock on Spencer’s scarf by any means, it’d become a staple of his office wear, one that you definitely weren’t complaining about, but in weather like this it wasn’t really doing him any favours.

“I know…” Spencer sighs at his own intolerance to cold weather.

You’d think having worked in Quantico for half a decade would have stopped him from turning into a human icicle the minute the temperature dropped into the negatives, but no, of course it didn’t. Of course he continued to feel like he was sat in a bathtub full of ice despite having four layers on. Of course he did.

You push your chair back from your desk, the noise of it’s friction against the cheap carpeting of the floor drawing Spencer’s eyes to you once more, and to you bring yourself to your feet and pull your scarf from under your blazer with a small amount of struggle before walking over to him, the scarf stretched out between your two hands.

Spencer doesn’t have the time to question what you’re doing before your scarf is wrapped around his neck, immediately engulfing him in a cocoon of extra heat that his own scarf failed to provide.

He didn’t have time to thank you either, as you departed with a ruffle of your hand in his hair towards the kitchenette to fix yourself a coffee.

At first he’s confused.

Then he’s warm.

And then the lingering scent embedded in the yarn hits his nose and he flushes a bright pink, thankfully hidden under the knit.

Of course it would smell like you. It was your scarf. Your cells would cling to the yarn as you wore it and leave a permanent trace of you behind.

But it smelled like you. And any lingering molecules of coffee in his sensory neurons were immediately overridden with your scent instead.

Any conscious sense of being cold had left his body. His trembling had seemingly stopped, his brain too focused on your scent invading his nose and making him feel fuzzy inside.

You returned with your cup of coffee soon after, Spencer still coming to terms with his reality as you take your seat again. “You look much warmer now,”

You half insinuate the flush on his cheeks, although he’s unsure if you recognise the origin behind it or if you genuinely just believe that your scarf has helped insulate his neck and warm up his face. Which it had, but not as much as your scent had done.

Spencer’s normally sharp mind stumbled over words, and he couldn't help but fidget with the ends of the scarf as he tried to formulate a response.

"Yeah… thanks," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

His reaction brought a soft smile to your face, alongside a small chuckle at his seeming inability to form a full sentence. "You're welcome Spencer, but it's just a scarf,”

But for Spencer, it was more than that, it was a tangible connection to you. The combination of your proximity and the familiar fragrance leaving him pleasantly flustered and mildly overstimulated.

As the day unfolded, the team couldn't help but notice the change in Spencer's demeanour. Teasing remarks were exchanged, and Spencer, although still focused on his files, couldn't escape the playful banter.

At the end of the day, you approached him, a twinkle in your eye. "I think you should keep the scarf," you suggested, "You need it more than I do."

Spencer's shy smile revealed his appreciation, and he nodded, holding onto the scarf as a cherished memento of a day that had unravelled his usual composure.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

hello!! how about something with spencer about christmas? 🎄🎄🎄

Lovely Christmas 🎄 [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: the entire team gets together to celebrate Christmas and Spencer gives you a pleasant surprise.

note: merry next Christmas everyone! I hope you like it:)

Christmas, time to celebrate, give and receive. All that advertising in the stores worked to the point that you really felt a certain warmth on the holiday, despite the low degrees of the Virginia climate.

The team members, at Penelope's initiative, had agreed to have a small meeting to celebrate Christmas Eve this year, due to the uncertainty of not knowing how many Christmases you had left as a team because of everything chaotic that had happened lately. Mainly also because you had never celebrated that date together.

Everyone was there, the little ones, the older ones, some old members of the team, the new ones, husbands, wives, friends... in short, it was a big party. Of course Dave had offered his house to host the event and you, without complaint, had agreed. He had probably hired someone to do it, but the house was decorated masterfully, with lights, trees, Christmas boots, a life-size dancing Santa and even the white snow bathing the entire patio that could be seen from the glass doors. That's why Rossi couldn't be prouder, being the best of hosts as he always was.

You were euphoric about everything and you didn't even know where you should start enjoying. On the one hand, there was the opportunity to talk to friends from work that I hadn't seen in years, on the other hand, you could spend time with the kids and hug little baby Morgan, and last but not least, you could drink punch and hot chocolate in the company of the group that had gathered in that area. You decided on that option and very soon you were chatting friendly with Aaron and Emily.

“Jack wants a video game console for Christmas and I told him that only if he behaved well Santa could bring it, although I have a feeling that only one of us is pretending that he exists” he was telling you, laughing, when suddenly someone interrupted him.

“Jeez, it's freezing outside,” the voice, quite familiar to you, complained.

It was Spencer, who had just arrived with rosy cheeks, snowflakes scattered in his hair, his purple scarf and an ugly sweater that had gingerbread men all over it. He looked simply adorable.

“Reid!” you said happily, walking over to give him a hug which he gladly reciprocated. “Do you want me to serve you a cup of chocolate?”

“Oh, I would love you even more if you did that,” he replied, grinning at you from ear to ear with those gorgeous white teeth.

Being with all your friends makes you very happy, but there is one friend in particular who completely lights up your world. That's Spencer, and he was doing it right then.

“Here you go, handsome,” you murmured playfully, while you placed a full cup between his recently ungloved hands. He sighed as he took a sip of the drink and looked at you gratefully.

He joined in without any difficulty and soon the two of you were laughing at the story Emily was telling you, close enough to each other to be considered friendly. That's how it was always with him, despite his obvious fear of germs, he didn't mind being around you, much less when you laughed and leaned against his side a little or when you were telling a story and you constantly touched him. It felt natural to him, only when it came to you.

Rossi served turkey for all of you, one that you knew he had prepared because of the peculiar flavor and Italian ingredients. You had sat in front of Spencer and thanks to that you could see all his expressions during dinner, which were pure happiness. Seeing him happy made you happy too, as if you were infected with a delicious disease.

And suddenly you found yourself staring at him for too long and making jokes just to make him smile, as if he was the only one there with you.

During dinner you shared anecdotes, as always, Penny handed out candy to children and adults, the former members talked about how their new job was going and among all that it very soon became almost midnight.

Some sadness and surprise-filled your chest when Spencer announced that he would be the first to leave.

“I'm going to visit my mom,” he had explained, because you remembered that Diana was now in a health center that was only an hour away. No one dared to hold him back when they found out his reason and there were only a few goodbye hugs.

However, you told the man that you would walk him to the door and as you did so you pulled one of the bags on the floor with you. You stopped under the door frame, which could be seen from the small living room where the group had moved after dinner, and then you spoke.

“Drive carefully, okay?” was the first thing you said, lovingly adjusting the scarf that he was wearing around his neck. “And call me when you get there.”

“I will do it, calm down”

“Before you go, I want to give you something,” you murmured softly. You took out two decorated packages from your bag, one purple and the other pink “One is for you and the other is for your mother. Wish her a Merry Christmas from me”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding touched by what you were offering him. It was clear that what he had in his hands were books and he felt a tug in his heart when he thought that you had gotten one for his mother “I didn't bring you anything, I'm so sorry.”

“That doesn't matter, Spence,” you responded affectionately “It's just a detail, but I hope you like it.”

The man was about to respond when a whistle caught the attention of both of you and when you looked in the direction of the room you noticed that everyone had their eyes on you.

“Tough luck, lovebirds,” Morgan laughed and for a second you didn't understand what was funny about it. But when he pointed his finger at a spot above your head, then you understood.

There was mistletoe there, and you and Spencer were right under it.

“It's tradition,” Rossi began to say, when if he knew that you would refuse, “You can't break it”

“Did you know that the meaning of mistletoe can be found in the culture of the Celts? According to some stories, the druids used it in their spells and even to resurrect the dead, according to some legends of which we have evidence and records in different sources. Furthermore, magical powers are attributed to the plant because it doesn’t come from the sky or the earth, since the roots are neither in the ground nor held in the air: the mistletoe is maintained thanks to the deciduous tree that it parasitizes”

You giggled childishly as you listened to Spencer speak, probably to calm your nerves at the thought of having to kiss him, and he didn't even notice because he was so excited to share that bit of knowledge he had for the occasion.

“And that's why you have to kiss her, Reid! Legend says that if a woman is kissed under the mistletoe, she will be able to find the love of her life. And who knows, maybe our poor Y/N already needs some luck in that area”

You wanted to kill JJ for saying that, but at the same time you couldn't think about anything but what he would do. You didn't even know if he would dare to kiss you in front of all your coworkers and you wouldn't blame him if he didn't, after all you were just friends.

"Would it bother you?" he asked quietly. He didn't look the least bit nervous and that really made you nervous.

“Do you really want to kiss me?”

“Well, it's tradition,” he murmured, shrugging, while he smiled at you calmly. Apparently this hadn't affected him like it did you.

“Okay, then it’s… it’s okay.”

You would have liked to say the words more calmly, but you couldn't, and the little confidence you had left disappeared when Spencer raised one of his hands to cup your cheek and planted a kiss on your lips. It was a gentle kiss, sweet and short, but it made you shiver completely.

Honestly, no one expected you two to actually kiss, that's why when he pulled away from you the whole room was completely silent. You were shocked, they were shocked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said, carefully caressing the skin of your face with his hand that was still holding it.

You made a superhuman effort to find your voice.

"Merry Christmas too"

He gave you one last caress and then said goodbye to the rest, waving his hand happily; they responded a little less enthusiastically, probably due to astonishment. The door closed, but you stood, staring into space as you tried to process what had just happened.

“Someone help the poor woman, it looks like she is going to have a heart attack”

Nobody, absolutely nobody, expected a comment like that coming from Aaron Hotchner and perhaps that was what made the moment a thousand times funnier.

“Did Reid really kiss you? I hope we aren’t experiencing a collective hallucination.”

“He didn't even hesitate! That's my boy"

“Everyone shut up,” you said finally, feeling all your blood pooling in your cheeks as you walked back to the living room “I don't think any of you want to be knocked out by a federal agent on Christmas Eve”

They laughed and eventually so did you. Reid wrote you a message when he arrived with his mother and you smiled as you remembered the kiss he had given you, the one that, without a doubt just as the legend said, led you to find the love of your life.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[dsireland86]

OMG Yes please make the All Too Well fic! And yeah it is crazy that we thought about him with the same song

I was originally going to use the original version of this song, but after listening to Taylor's version again, it hit differently. This story was a little difficult to write because I really didn't want to make Nick the bad guy. But, at some point in our lives, we all make that one mistake we regret for the rest of our lives, right? In my universe, this was Nicholas's.

All Too Well

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers

My sister's house in upstate New York that Autumn was so cold; colder than Virginia. The moment we walked through the door together, she smiled so big, squeezing my arm and saying how it felt like home. My sister loved her instantly. 

She wore a red scarf around her neck that she said kept the cold out and her body heat in. I didn't believe her. It was so thin and small. There was no way. But it smelled like her, and her scent always made me weak.

I was five years older than her, but nobody could ever tell. People would say my sweet disposition and her wide-eyed gaze that was always focused on me made us look so compatible together that age was never something anyone ever questioned about us.

The whole ten days we were in New York together, singing in the car, almost running countless red lights because I couldn’t stop looking over at her and how beautiful she was with the wind in her hair, getting lost on some crazy back roads with autumn leaves falling down like rain all around us, was the best ten days of my life. It  was nothing but the purest magic ever to be found in life. Even after it was long over, I could still picture all too well; her smile, her eyes, her laughter, all of it. It was love. I was in love with her, and I knew she was in love with me.

My mom came to visit my sister. Knowing y/n and I were there, she brought my childhood photo album and embarrassed the hell out of me. My cheeks never turned as red as they did when she saw me sitting in my old red car twin size bed in just my underwear and glasses; god, those horrible thick, black rimmed glasses.

Then came the t-ball stories that made my mother proud to tell, but made me cringe. But y/n hung on every word my mom said as she learned more about my past and, for the first time, I knew she was my future despite what was waiting for me back in Virginia. I didn't want that anymore. I was over it. I wanted what I had right then; at least I tried convincing myself I did.

As we drove through those back roads, I was aching to say, "I love you," but for some reason, I was too scared to call it what it was, until it was too late. Until it was already dead, gone, and buried beneath the hate and bitterness of her heart, and I didn't blame her one bit for the way she felt. I deserved it.

That same night, I stole her innocence, promising her that she was the only one I'd ever want and that what we had was real, because in the heat of the moment, I really meant it. But in the end, I knew it was a lie from the very beginning. I stole her magic and treated it and her innocence as if they were some ordinary, mundane things when they weren't.

After three months of silence, the moment she found out the truth, the painful look of shame that graced her beautiful face was too much for my heart to handle. I wanted to die, to run away from her and never see her again. There was nothing else for either one of us left to do except hope that she would forget me long enough to forget why she ever felt like she needed me in the first place.

The very last time we were happy was right after we came back from New York, and she stayed over at my place. It was the middle of the night, and I awoke to her not beside me, so I got up and went searching for her only to find her in the kitchen listening to "You Belong To Me" by Jo Stafford; our song. I sat on the stairs for a moment, watching her dance in the glow of the refrigerator light as she looked for something to eat or drink, knowing in the morning all of this was going to end.

I cried, hating myself to the point that I rushed back upstairs and threw up in the toilet. I had kept her a dark, dirty little secret when she only kept me like an oath swearing over and over her loyalty to me. It was all a masterpiece until I tore it all apart. For what? I don't even know anymore.

A month after that night, I called her up to tell her I was moving to my sister's. She answered the phone, sounding so hopeful and optimistic, but when I told her that I was leaving, y/n asked if I was going alone. I didn't want to be honest, but I had lied to her long enough, so I was. I told her the truth (or at least what I had convinced myself to be the truth) about her and I and that what we had was never going to work because of the age difference. I was casually cruel, crumbling her heart up like a piece of paper and throwing it to the floor. I knew she wanted to die because I had felt that kind of pain before, too.

She asked me why I was doing this to her on the eve of her twenty-first birthday and I cringed, completely forgetting the date. She screamed at me, saying it was supposed to be fun turning twenty-one, but now she was nothing but paralyzed by pain and regret. I promised her it would get easier and she disagreed, saying time doesn't fly when you're bleeding like a soldier on the battlefield. Then she asked the crucial question, the one I was hoping she never would; "Did the love affair between us maim you like it maimed me?"

I felt cold, numb from all the pain. I didn't answer her, just told her goodbye then hung up the phone. I went for a walk, plagued by memories of the past in the city's barren cold as the first fall of snow glistened as it fell. I remember it all too well.

I'm boxing up all her things she left behind. Her red plaid shirt, her hairbrush that still holds strands of loose hair, a pair of panties I remember pulling off of her the very last night I made her my own, and her old scarf; the red one she wore to my sister’s that day in New York. I bring it to my nose and breath in deeply, soaking in the remaining scent of her it holds. It reminds me of innocence and the way things used to be. I can't get rid of it. So, I open my dresser drawer and gently lay it in there, touching it one last time before closing it. I remember her wearing it all too well and I never want to forget it either. She loved me so, back before I lost the one real thing I'd ever known. What we had was rare and I know I’ll never have it again.

I say her name every once in a while, like a sacred prayer to remind myself of the one and only good thing in my life that I lost. And the memories of her come rushing back every time, reminding me of her love, all too well. 

[blacklitchick]

Found a WIP from 2017 that I abandoned. Don't quite remember where I was going with this, but I kinda love this excerpt:

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

Waking up alone was hard to get used to.

The quiet in the mornings was the hardest to get used to.

Summer mornings were always Michonne’s favorite - sleeping with the windows open as warm Virginia breeze ruffled the curtains, and the sun kissed their naked skin - his arm around her waist, the deep breathing of his slumber in her ear. Sunrise was always before 7:00 am. Michonne could tell you the exact time because she was usually awake watching the shadows in the bedroom turn to light. In her old life, she’d be up before the first hint of rays crept into the sky. Eagerness to start her day made lingering in bed hardly ever an option.

Having children further cemented her desire to rise early. Only one person could convince her to have a lazy morning in bed. Her husband was more persuasive than any lawyer she ever faced in court; five more minutes turned into fifteen and then an hour. Michonne’s lips upturned into a sad smile. His kissable pout was hard to resist. She ran her hand over his cool, empty side of the bed. There was no need to convince her to stay in bed that morning. The day had been in the planning stages for weeks. Now that it was here, the dread had settled in her stomach. Hiding away rather than dealing with the warring emotions in her heart sounded like the better option - though not viable. It couldn’t be done without her. The thin sheet fell to the side as she sat up. One more look was given to his side of the bed before she swung her feet to the floor.

Age hadn’t taken away her spryness. Her body was nearly as lean and muscled as it was when their family first walked through the gates of Alexandria twenty years earlier. Her perfect complexion was still wrinkle-free. Rick’s favorite morning routine was to kiss every inch of her body to bask in the smoothness of her skin. His chuckle would vibrate through her body when she parroted her grandmother’s words, Black don’t crack. The bags under each eye were a new development. Tears mixed with lack of sleep had taken a toll. Avoiding the shock of grief from waking up alone was preferable to any rest she may have needed.

Their shower was the smallest in the house, but the two always fit in there with no room to spare. He never let too much space get in between their bodies. But now it felt too big for one person. The warm water felt good against her skin but did nothing to wash away the ache in her heart. It was always here when she let herself cry - big, ugly sobs from deep in her gut. Her body would slide to the floor as trembles shook her to the core. She hugged her knees until the water pouring from above turned cold. She wouldn’t let her pain manifest any other time of the day. The grief in the house wasn’t hers alone. There were others she needed to be strong for.

Between the crying and the steam, her eyes were a light hue of red. She rinsed her face with cold water, trying to fade the color back to white. After patting her face dry, she slid off her multi-colored scarf. The hair underneath was arranged in neat twists. Over the years, she’d cut and grew her locs back twice. Now, she wore her natural hair in a simple afro puff.

Rick always told her she could make any color look good, but yellow was his favorite. She’d slipped on a sunny wrap skirt and paired it with a white tank top. Fully dressed, she sat at the foot of the bed and breathed in and out.

[universitypenguin]

Summary: Princess conducts interviews with witnesses in Fredericksburg to learn more about the disappearance of Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Meanwhile, Lloyd confronts Tate Corbin about what he saw the night Julia went missing, but the answers only lead to more questions.

Word Count: 5,064

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this chapter to @nomadstucky. Without her, I never would’ve been able to dig my way out of this latest writing slump. Her feedback was critical to getting this chapter moving in the right direction when I was going off the rails creatively. Thank you so much!

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, discussion of murder and other criminal behavior. Minor use of foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Chapter XXIII

The cabins were in good repair. Seeing them in person disrupted the mental image you’d formed of the Chapman Bible Camp. It wasn’t the neglected place of crumbling disrepair you’d imagined it to be. Words like charming and neat came to mind, rather than decrepit and gloomy. The cottages were arranged around an ellipse shaped quad in uniform fashion, like spokes on a wheel. Their vibrant colors were reminiscent of the famous bathing boxes at Brighton Beach. Each one was painted a different shade of the rainbow and trimmed in a contrasting hue. The yellow cabin had purple trim, the green cabin fuchsia pink, and so on.

Instead of the Adirondack style commonly found in rural Virginia, the cabins boasted steep, angled roofs and front-facing gables adorned with whimsical gingerbread bargeboards. The whole aesthetic was so unabashedly Queen Anne that the cabins could’ve blended in with the homes on San Francisco’s famous Postcard Row. They seemed both too sophisticated and too cute for these primitive woods.

After her husband passed away, Mrs. Chapman had sold the bible camp. It was now in the hands of a musician who’d turned the tabernacle into a concert hall and rented out the cabins on Airbnb. Zach was fetching the keys from the owner while you waited on the porch of the converted tabernacle.

Standing here, you wondered if this visit was a fool’s errand. This morning Lloyd had called to tell you he’d be leaving the search party this afternoon to cover Roth’s interview with Tate Corbin. After hanging up, you’d itched for something productive to do. The abduction had injected a fresh sense of urgency into the investigation, but you’d agreed to keep your distance from Harmony because Lloyd was worried that Shun Nguyen would return to familiar surroundings. It was a reasonable assumption, one you didn’t have a counter argument for.

Still, you’d itched with a need to do something, so you’d turned to the mystery surrounding Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Now that you were actually here you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d drifted off course. The place to look for fresh leads was forty miles north of here, yet this was where you’d come.

What breakthroughs did you expect to generate digging into a case that was almost twenty-five years old? You were about as far from a lead as Pluto was from the sun.

Gravel crunched as Zach came up the walk behind you.

“I got the keys,” he said.

“The place looks better than I expected. More charm, less gloom.”

“Like a fucking rainbow in the woods,” Zach said, inserting the key in the lock.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s creepy, though.”

“Creepy?” you asked.

“The place feels off. Too pretty for its history, like Gettysburg without a war memorial.”

- - - - -

Zach went to explore the camp and forest while you waited in the concert hall for your witnesses. Twenty minutes later, the first of two former employees arrived.

Mrs. Koep was a petite fair-skinned woman with thin lips and a broad face. She wore a white button down with a silk scarf draped around her neck and carried a pink Michael Kors purse. Her handshake was firm when she introduced herself as the camp’s former groundskeeper. Right behind her, the other ex-employee Mrs. Brittenridge entered the hall. Mrs. Brittenridge was the opposite of Mrs. Koep. The former administrative assistant and camp nurse was tall and thin. In contrast to Mrs. Koep’s carefully coiffed appearance, Mrs. Brittenridge wore a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, straight leg jeans, and scuffed suede boots. Her dark brown hair, worn in a shaggy bob, gleamed with red highlights that complimented her olive complexion.

If they hadn’t introduced themselves, you’d have figured Mrs. Brittenridge for the groundskeeper and Mrs. Koep for the nurse. You sat down together in the pews. The two women took the second row while you sat in the first, angling yourself to face them.

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Brittenridge replied.

“Why did you want to meet us here?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“My colleague, Zach, is exploring the grounds, and I thought the familiar setting might help jog your memories.”

Mrs. Koep’s chin lifted. “My memory is just fine.”

Mrs. Brittenridge shot the blonde woman a tired side-eye, but didn’t comment.

“Rolling Stone magazine said your law firm is investigating the murders in Harmony,” Mrs. Koep said. “Is that true?”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment about ongoing cases.”

She scowled.

“We’re glad someone’s looking into Li Wei and Zoe’s disappearance again, and we’re happy to help anyway we can,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“I was hoping you could fill in some blanks surrounding Li Wei’s disappearance. What was she doing just before she disappeared?”

Mrs. Koep answered first. “She was supposed to take the campers on a nature hike before lunch, but never showed up. I learned she was missing when Mr. Chapman came to the potting shed and asked if I’d seen her.”

“The last time I saw her was that morning,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She came into the office to fill up her water bottle.”

“What time was that?” you asked.

“Eight-thirty,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

You turned to the other woman. “And you, Mrs. Koep?”

“I caught a glimpse of her around nine. She was heading into the woods.”

“And Zoe?”

They debated whether Zoe had been with Li Wei that morning or not, but neither one could say for sure. With some more questioning the women decided their last official sighting of the little girl had been on Friday afternoon.

“What about Li Wei’s personal life?” you asked.

Mrs. Koep scoffed. “Non-existent. Her social life fell off a cliff after Zoe was born - some people even compared her to Boo Radley.”

By the icy glare she shot at Mrs. Brittenridge, you could guess who ‘some people’ had been.

“Betty, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You were right, though! She was a recluse! She was bored and lonely. All of her friends had gone off to college and left her behind.”

“She had Zoe, and her parents. You were there for her, too,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“It wasn’t enough,” Mrs. Koep said, wringing her hands. “Her mother should’ve pushed her to date, to get out and socialize. She practically was Boo Radley in the end.”

Mrs. Brittenridge sighed. An uncomfortable silence settled, and you waited to see if they’d continue. When they didn’t you pivoted to the main line of questioning you hoped this visit would shed light on.

“Who was Zoe’s father?”

Mrs. Brittenridge stiffened. Beside her, Mrs. Koep’s expression transformed from distraught to frosty. Neither of them answered. You retreated to a less aggressive position, realizing the delicacy of the subject called for coaxing, not pushing.

“Mrs. Koep, you worked here the longest. Since 1982, if the records are correct. Were you close with Li Wei?”

“Yes. She used to follow me around everywhere, always wanting to play in the dirt when I was planting flowers. I had kids who were a few years older than her, so I didn’t mind.”

“Did she ever confide in you about Zoe’s father?”

“Li Wei was a quiet girl,” Mrs. Koep said.

“She was quieter after she had Zoe,” Mrs. Brittenridge interjected.

You weren’t getting any useful information from the direct approach. Despite their obvious dislike of one another, the women were working in concert to dodge your questions.

A strategic retreat was in order.

“Do you have any theories about what happened to Li Wei and Zoe?”

Mrs. Brittenridge lowered her gaze, but Mrs. Koep offered a theory immediately. “I always assumed it was an accident of some kind. There’s a lot of abandoned mining shafts in the area.”

Mrs. Brittenridge’s lips compressed into a flat line.

You smiled at the former groundskeeper. “Mrs. Koep, would you mind taking my colleague, Zack, around? It would be nice to get the perspective of someone who knows the area.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Brittenridge, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to see where the administrative building was.”

“There’s not much to see. The new owners tore it down.”

“Any familiar spots would be great,” you said.

You led them out of the tabernacle and Mrs. Koep headed east to where Zach was inspecting the tree line, while Mrs. Brittenridge turned west. She walked to a picnic table hidden behind a grove of trees and sat down on one side. You took the place opposite her.

“This is where I used to take my breaks.”

“It’s a pleasant spot.”

“It’s private. You wanted to get me alone, so go ahead. Ask,” Mrs. Brittenridge invited.

“Do you know who Zoe’s father was?”

“No. Li Wei and I were friendly, but we didn’t have a relationship where she’d be comfortable sharing such personal information.”

“Would Mrs. Koep know?”

“Maybe. Betty was like an aunt to her. I always assumed she’d confided in her, but I’m not sure.”

“How long did you and Betty work together?”

“Seven years.”

“Were you full or part time at the camp?”

“Full time, May through August. I was a school nurse at Monroe High.”

“Li Wei graduated from Monroe, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like as a student?”

Mrs. Brittenridge considered the question before answering. “She was very smart, especially in English and exceptional in art. She wasn’t the most outgoing person, but always had friends.”

“You’d say she was well liked?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She wasn't exactly shy, just reserved. The kind who thought before speaking.”

“Was she much of a partier?”

“Not in high school.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And after?”

“Sometimes when you’ve led a sheltered life, a little freedom goes to your head.”

“Got it. One more question. Why don’t you and Betty get along?”

“I had a cell phone in 1992.”

“Mmmhhh.”

“You’re too young to understand, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Back in the early nineties, only drug dealers had cell phones, or at least that’s what people thought. I had one, which immediately roused her suspicions. To add insult to injury, I set up a website for the camp in 1996, then persuaded the Chapmans to put in a computer station so the kids could email their parents instead of writing letters. You’d have thought I suggested we convert to Satanism.”

You ran through your follow up questions and then walked Mrs. Brittenridge to her car, thanking her again for coming.

Then you headed down the curving path, around the oval lawn, past the cabins, to the garden shed. Zach was waiting outside.

“How’d the tour go?” you asked.

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said.

“Welcome to the club.”

Zach smirked. “Oh? Your charm met its kryptonite?”

You sneered at him, ignored his silent laughter, and stepped over the threshold into the plywood floored shed. The only source of light was a rectangular skylight on the roof.

Mrs. Koep was standing on the far side of the shed with her back to you. Her hands rested on a high table constructed from two-by-fours and MDF board. She stared at the garden tools that hung from the pegboard behind the table. Despite her chic clothing, she looked far more at home in this spartan surrounding with its crude furnishings than she had in the concert hall.

“I missed this place,” Mrs. Koep said, breaking the silence. “It’s weird to miss somewhere that smells like manure and gasoline, but I did.”

Mrs. Koep turned around and leaned against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. It was time for the confrontation.

“You knew Li Wei better than anyone,” you said.

“I like to think so.”

“Do you really believe she and Zoe fell into an abandoned mining shaft?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s what I want to believe, so I do.”

“Is it easier that way?” you asked.

“Being in denial for twenty years isn’t easy, it’s a survival mechanism.”

“What exactly were you in denial about, Mrs. Koep?”

It was stuffy and warm in the shed, but she rubbed her arms as if trying to generate heat.

“At first, you let yourself believe something irrational. Then… when reality breaks through the facade… you make yourself believe it because you can’t accept the truth.”

“You know something about Li Wei’s disappearance that you’re not telling me.”

“You’re very blunt for someone so young.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I’d been that way when I was twenty-five. It would’ve spared me a divorce.”

This time you didn’t respond, just nodded.

“Li Wei didn’t give me the name of Zoe’s father. She said he was from up North - I think she meant D.C. - and that he’d been in a fraternity. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that. Zoe was the product of a one night stand.”

“Did he know about Zoe?”

“I’m not sure but I think she would’ve told him. Whatever the case was, he wasn't in the picture. Li Wei was dating someone else.”

Excitement surged in your blood. That hadn’t been in the file. “Really? When did she start seeing him?”

Mrs. Koep squeezed her arms, gripping them until her knuckles turned white.

“Some time in March.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Because I was afraid her parents wouldn’t approve. I didn’t want to start any trouble for her.”

You nodded. “And you’re sure the relationship began in March?”

“Pretty sure. I always came up early to start on the flower beds. He drove a motorcycle - not a Harley, it was a sporty thing, like the one Tom Cruise rode in Top Gun. I saw it parked in front of her cottage a few times.”

“Did you ever see her boyfriend?”

“A couple times, from a distance,” Mrs. Koep said.

“Can you describe him?”

“Caucasian, early twenties, with dark blond hair. I guess he was about six feet tall, give or take. He looked a bit like David Beckham.”

“You spoke to her about him?”

Mrs. Koep nodded. “I warned her that if I’d seen her sneaking around with him it was only a matter of time before one of her parents caught on.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me it hadn’t been serious and that they’d broken up.”

You swiped open your phone and pulled up an image of Julia Xiarong.

“Have you seen this woman before?”

She studied the photo carefully. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“She was related to Li Wei. A friend of hers said she’d been looking into her family history in 2002 and uncovered records of an adopted cousin.”

“How did she know they were cousins?”

“There was a family mystery about her uncle. He fought in the Chinese Civil War and fled to Taiwan in the 1940s. No one ever heard from him again. She found his death certificate and learned that he’d had a daughter who died in childbirth, which led her to Li Wei’s adoption records.”

“Was there proof Li Wei was related to her?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“If you mean a DNA test, I don’t believe so. Her friend said she came to Fredericksburg in March 2002 and tried to get in touch with Mrs. Chapman. I don’t know if they connected or not.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if they did,” Mrs. Koep said. “Mrs. Chapman had Alzheimers. She’d lost everything but her long-term memories by the end of 2001. Her sister came up from Arizona to take care of her. She stayed on for a year until it was time to move Mrs. Chapman into a memory care unit, then sold the camp.”

“Is it possible she met with Mrs. Chapman’s sister?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a number for the sister?” you asked.

“In my address book. I’ll send it to you.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Koep squinted at Julia’s picture. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

You cringed internally, realizing your mistake. Detective Roth was going to have your head.

“I do recognize her. She was in the Rolling Stone article.” Mrs. Koep’s eyes narrowed. “You found Li Wei and Zoe’s bodies, didn’t you?”

“I can’t share any information about the investigation.”

You braced yourself for her to unsheathe her claws, but instead of lashing out, she opened her tiny pink purse and handed you a card. It was an old-fashioned calling card with her name, phone numbers and email address.

“When you can release their bodies, please call me. They deserve a proper funeral.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Especially after all this time.”

“It’s the only thing left. I can’t do anything else for them now.”

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m sure talking about this wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” she said.

“On the contrary. You were very helpful.”

Mrs. Koep looked confused. When you didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “Alright then. Is that everything?”

“Yes. Zach can walk you to your car.”

You watched from the doorway of the shed as the pair walked down the ellipse shaped path towards the tabernacle and the parking lot beyond it. When they were far enough away, you took out your phone and dialed Annabeth Greene.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, how’s it going? Have you made any progress on your case? The one with the cousins?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Do you remember running Li Wei and Julia’s DNA samples?”

“Of course I do. It’s the most interesting thing I’ve cracked in months.”

“What about Zoe’s?”

“The little girl?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I already sent you an analysis of her DNA.”

“You did, but I was wondering if there would be any way to identify her father?”

Annabeth sucked in a long breath. “Ugh. Look, I can try, but I’m not optimistic. A lot of genetic libraries have closed the loop holes that allowed us to use ancestry DNA to identify suspects for law enforcement.”

“I’m not law enforcement.”

“You’re as bad as Lloyd.”

“Can you do it?”

“If I loosen my definition of ethics,” Annabeth said.

“You’re the best. I owe you.”

“Uh-uh. Lloyd owes me. It’s going to be something good, too. Expensive. You tell him that.”

“Will do.”

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

In a semi-private alcove within the vast common room of Fairfax Fields Assisted Living facility, Lloyd faced down his prime suspect. Tate Corbin didn’t look eighty-three. His face was wrinkled but his posture was impeccable. Also, he seemed to be made of Teflon, because nothing stuck to him. It wasn’t charm that formed the protective coating that resisted Lloyd’s best interrogation tactics. Just the opposite - the Teflon shield surrounding Corbin was constructed of impertinence.

None of his usual tricks were working, and that pissed Lloyd off. He was good at two things in the interrogation room: getting a rise out of someone and building a sense of despair that made them unravel. Corbin was immune to both tactics.

First, there was no getting a rise out of Corbin. The man existed in a perpetual state of annoyance; the only dependent variable was the subject of his ire. Second, Lloyd didn’t have any actual evidence and therefore wasn’t equipped to build a sense of despair.

He wished he’d brought you along. If he had, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here listening to Corbin monologue about his various hatreds. Mr. Corbin hated scarlet macaws, because his neighbor had one and it wouldn’t shut up. He hated New Jersey and their subpar roads that were always under construction.

Trying to forge a connection, Lloyd empathized with that sentiment and inadvertently triggered a cascade of grievances.

The architecture of FedEx Field was hideous and the Washington Commanders had been on the downhill slide ever since they’d let Kirk Cousins sign with the Vikings. Tate claimed to despise Roger Goodell, Jerry Jones, and the entire NFL organization. And he loathed the football commentators on TV, too. They didn’t know shit about football. He preferred to watch the games on mute these days. Lloyd really, really didn’t want to agree with Tate Corbin… but he was right about a lot of things, especially the Commanders letting Kirk Cousins go. However, he wisely kept his agreement to himself and sat back, waiting for Corbin to run out of steam.

There was a rant against the commissioner of baseball, which didn’t have enough context for Lloyd to figure out whether Corbin hated the office or the individual who currently occupied it. Without a segue, the topic shifted to how social media addictions were the younger generation’s smoking. As much as he hated social media, Tate also had plenty to say about the mass media, and he didn’t hesitate to bend Lloyd’s ear about it.

Tate had been talking for almost ten minutes straight before Lloyd found an opening to put the conversation back on track.

“I hate dogwood trees,” Corbin said.

“You had a disagreement with Shun Nguyen about a dogwood tree, didn’t you?”

“Eh?”

“Dogwood trees,” Lloyd repeated, louder.

Corbin turned up the volume on his hearing aides. “Yeah, I did. That damn tree was growing over the fence and he wouldn’t trim it! Claimed he didn’t have the time!”

“We need to talk about his girlfriend’s death.”

Tate turned his head. His eyes shifted to the window. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t offer a comment.

“I’m here to talk about Julia’s death and the missing women,” Lloyd said.

“Always back to that, huh?”

“The investigation has been re-opened.”

“It’s old news. What’s there to talk about?” Corbin asked.

“You were convinced that Shun Nguyen killed Julia, is that right?”

“Damn right. They were always scrapping. I told her straight out that he’d kill her someday, but she didn’t listen.”

“Were you familiar with any of Dr. Nguyen’s other victims?”

Tate’s initial chattiness had waned. He shrugged. “The whole town heard about them. Heck, most of the country did.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mr. Corbin ran his tongue around his teeth. An expression of disgust, like he’d just bitten into something rotten, flashed across his features. The silence lengthened between them and Lloyd decided to prod.

“Did you know Stacey Moore?”

“Her grandfather and I golfed at the same course. We never played together or anything, but we’d see each other at the bar sometimes. I suppose you already know Maya Sutton interned for my accountant.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve done your homework. Everything I’ve told you was in the files, so you tell me - what’s the point of this? What are you getting at?”

Lloyd uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“In 2002 you claimed you saw a man walking across Nguyen's lawn on the night Julia went missing. I think you were lying.”

Tate straightened, his scowl darkening. “Lying about what?”

“You didn’t see a man. You made it up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To throw the police off your scent.”

Realization dawned, and then Tate chuckled. “You think I’m the killer?”

“You hated Shun and Julia.”

“And the others?”

“You’re not much of a people person, Mr. Corbin. That can be very frustrating. You couldn’t join them, you couldn’t beat them, so what does that leave? You kill them.”

“That’s pretty twisted logic,” Tate said.

“Six women are still missing and we have the bodies of three others, so yeah. The whole thing is pretty twisted.”

“I’m not much of a people person, Mr. Hansen, but I’m not a killer.”

“Can you prove that?”

Tate snorted. “Actually, I can. You see, you’re not the first person to accuse me.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Peter Shaw, a reporter out of D.C. - obnoxious bastard.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He tried to accuse me of being the killer in a story for some hipster magazine ten years ago. The editor called before they ran the story, trying to verify the facts.”

“What facts?”

“About my whereabouts during the times those other women went missing. Stacey Moore was the first, in June of ‘99. A few months later Maya Sutton disappeared. The next summer it happened again. Two more victims.”

“Do you remember their names?” Lloyd asked.

“Peyton Quirk and Kayla Ballesta.”

“They disappeared in the summer, too?”

Lloyd knew the answers to the questions he was asking, but he wanted to see if Tate did.

“Peyton disappeared in July and Kayla went missing during the first week of September.”

Lloyd pretended to make a note on his pad.

Tate continued down the list. “He took Lucy Lund in May 2001. Stephanie Young went missing in September.”

“You’re very familiar with the case, Mr. Corbin.”

“Of course I am. I was at Nguyen’s trial every single day, both times. Which is why I was able to track down the tickets and photos from my summer vacations in 1999 and 2001. There are three ex-merchant marines, guys I served with in the sixties, who can vouch for me. We’ve done a biennial fishing trip in Maine for the last thirty years.”

“Their names?” Lloyd asked.

He took them down, along with the phone numbers the old man rattled off from memory.

“You’re grasping at straws if you think I’m your guy,” Corbin said.

Lloyd had a sinking feeling he’d just grasped at said straws and they’d slid through his fingers. He clicked his pen and sat back, studying Tate carefully.

His body language was open and relaxed. He didn’t seem rattled by Lloyd’s prodding, which made him think the man was being honest. Of course he would check with the merchant marines to be certain but Lloyd suspected his alibi would check out. It was a shame Peter Shaw didn’t share information from his unpublished articles, because it would’ve saved Lloyd a trip.

“I didn’t lie, you know. I saw someone walking across Nguyen’s yard that night,” Tate said.

Lloyd noticed the way Tate’s left hand shifted to cover his right wrist when he said ‘someone.’

It was a subtle gesture of self-protection, the kind of thing you or Zach would be able to discern the meaning of. He couldn’t read the emotions on Tate’s face. Discomfort? Fear? Or was he gloating over some withheld piece of information? Being caught out of his depth was irritating. Lloyd switched tactics, dropping the confrontational strategy.

Corbin had a propensity to interject whenever he felt something was being misconstrued, so Lloyd phrased his next words as a statement instead of a question.

“You saw someone that night and recognized them.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t recognize them for sure. Not at the time.”

“But later, you figured out who it was,” Lloyd said.

“It was just a guess.”

“A name?”

Mr. Corbin adjusted the leg of his trousers, smoothing out a crease. “Guess isn’t really the appropriate word. Maybe you’d call it a… hypothesis?”

Lloyd wanted to grab Tate by the collar of his polo shirt and shake the answer out of him. Instead, he smiled, trying to school his features into a neutral expression.

“About a month afterwards, I had an epiphany, of sorts and the puzzle pieces just snapped together. There was a neighbor boy. He was college age but still lived with his parents. A big, strapping kid, just like the figure I saw.”

“Why do you think it was him?” Lloyd asked.

“I woke up that night because their dog was barking. I got up to see what was going on, but by the time I reached the window the dog had shut up.”

“Which house did these neighbors live in?”

“The one adjacent to Nguyen’s property.”

“Left or right?”

“Right,” Tate said.

Lloyd jotted down a note. “Anything else?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure if it was the kid or not. But he fit the general description of the person I’d seen, and that dog didn’t bark much. I figure that’s why the dog started barking - he’d smelled his owner.”

“Was he coming or going from the house?”

“Assuming it was him, he would’ve been returning to his house.”

“By cutting through Nguyen’s yard?”

“His parents had a security camera pointed at the front door,” Tate said. “I asked his father about their setup after things went down. I was thinking of getting myself a security system and he told me they only had the one camera for the front door.”

“And?” Lloyd prompted.

“Given the camera at the front door, he would’ve had to sneak in through the back. Nguyen’s yard wasn’t fenced. The easiest path would have been to cut through Nguyen’s front yard, go around the back of their house, and jump the fence into the next yard.”

“You never mentioned this to the police,” Lloyd said.

“Dealing with ‘em left a bad taste in my mouth. They’re idiots, the whole lot. Look at who they’ve got locked up now! One of their own evidence clerks! While I happen to think they’ve got the wrong man, I'm sure glad that fellow is off the streets.”

“Yeah?”

Corbin’s face scrunched. “With Leo McKenzie in the slammer Harmony’s DUI rate is about to go into free fall, if you catch my drift.”

“You didn’t think it mattered if you said anything or not.”

Tate grunted in acknowledgement.

“You seem to have this whole case figured out,” Lloyd said.

That earned him a smile. The old man leaned in, lowering his voice. “Want to know what else I think?”

Lloyd mimicked the posture, inclining his head.

“I’ve got a theory about why they never found any remains.”

“Really?”

“Copper Ridge Quarry.”

“I’m not familiar,” Lloyd said.

“It’s an abandoned mine, closed down in the 60s. Toxic waste. Acidic runoff. That’s where the bodies went.”

This interview was burning up more leads than it was generating. Perhaps he didn’t need to check out Corbin’s alibi after all, Lloyd realized. Tate definitely wasn’t their guy. The coroner’s findings on Julia and Li Wei pointed towards the other end of the pH spectrum, away from acid.

Even so, he played along, raising an eyebrow. “Acid.”

“It’s so strong it’s off the pH scale, into the negative numbers.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s more than interesting. Acid dissolves everything. No bodies, no evidence. Take my word for it - look into Copper Ridge Quarry and you’ll find your killer.”

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

Next - Chapter XXIV

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Masterlist

- - - - - - - - - -

Tag List:

@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @jesevans @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @liecastillo @marantha @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @yiiiikesmish @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Rare Live On Tour Elvis Presley Candid Photo Taken Here In 1972 Wearing The Dark Blue Pinwheel Jumpsuit A Red Scarf And The Owl Belt. Year Known But Exact Location Unkown Although Could Be Ronoake In Virginia? But Im Not Sure Also He's Wearing Not Is Normal White Boots But Black Boots. Photographer Unknown

[dsaf-confessions]

Okay, new pinned post to disclose stuff!

Welcome to dsaf confessions, the only mod here is modred hi hello I use she/he pronouns but that’s not important!!

This is a dsaf confessions blog but honestly since we unleashed the character anons it’s more like a hub, and the anons have sonas and stuff.

Here’s a list of all the taken anons, which I’ll update when more get added:

Davetrap anon

Jack Kennedy anon

Dave Miller anon

Flipside Dave anon

Steven Stevenson anon

Peter Kennedy anon

Caroline anon

Dee Kennedy Anon

Jake’s receiver anon

Stanley anon

Walt anon

Oscar Lewinsky anon (the first anon, btw!)

Dee’s scarf anon

Harry Fitzgerald anon

Matt Virginia anon

Giant scuttler anon

Steven’s boyfriend anon

Pencil Sharpener anon

Roger’s rotary phone anon

Dave’s dress anon

Hands lover anon

Jack’s badge anon

Hooker foxy anon

Blackjack anon

The real Fredbear anon

Jacktrap anon

Nuke anon (formerly kiwi anon)

Booper anon

Peter’s retconned son anon

Confused anon

Rogerzport anon

Eepynon

The RAT anon

Davesport anon

Rogersport anon

Harrysport anon

Pink anon

Wattpad anon

Puppet’s mask anon

Walt’s suit anon

Dave’s toenail anon

Henry no.2 fan anon

Little creature anon

And if I’ve forgotten anyone, feel free to bully me for it. There’s a lot of you it was not intentional

Rules:

No confessing to proshipping

No ragebait confessions

No confessions meant to stir up drama (technically ragebait, but the difference is ragebait is obvious. If I think ur just trying to start shit or maybe it WILL start shit then I won’t post your confession)

No NSFW (I am a minor and can guarantee a lot of other people here r as well)

If you’re going to have lots of coloured text in your post, you need to provide an uncoloured version in the same confession or I won’t post it

I think that’s it. No limits to how many confessions you can post, go wild.

To look through actual confessions (because the tagging system on this blog has changed over time) you’re better off looking through the dayshift at freddy’s or dsaf tags on this blog specifically. the original tag I used for that (dsaf confessions) has sort of been repurposed to encompass all posts on here, confessions or not.

Anyway, I think that’s it. Have a good day all

[virginiablossoms]

Must-Have Long Shawl Scarves for Girls This Season

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Styling a long shawl scarf can be a delightful experiment. Pair it with a sleek leather jacket for an edgy look or wrap it over a tailored coat for a more sophisticated outfit. Don't hesitate to combine different patterns and textures. Our blog provides styling tips and tricks to help you make the most out of your Virginia Blossoms scarf.

Caring for Your Scarf

To keep your Virginia Blossoms scarf in pristine condition, follow our care guide. Gentle hand washing or dry cleaning is recommended to preserve the fabric's integrity and color.

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Ready to buy long shawl scarves for girls or winter scarves for women? Our online store offers a seamless shopping experience, with detailed product descriptions and styling suggestions. Embrace the winter season in style and comfort with a scarf that speaks to you.

Conclusion

Virginia Blossoms' collection of long shawl scarves is an essential addition to any winter wardrobe. Our variety of styles, patterns and fabrics ensures there's a perfect scarf for every woman. Visit our website to explore our collection and find your new favorite winter accessory.

[reikunrei]

"More than just an ordinary human."

It's that time again! Another Doctor Who episode wahoo!! Let's check out season 3, episode 6:

"The Lazarus Experiment"

So, Lazarus is, obviously, taken from the biblical figure of Lazarus who was brought back from the dead by Jesus. The story of his revival is meant to exemplify the power Jesus has over death itself, but I won't be talking about that in-depth here; the Bible-talk is more James's wheelhouse lol.

As it applies to this Doctor Who episode, it's not so much about coming back from the dead, but rather about cheating death. Professor Richard Lazarus has created an invention, which he calls a "miracle" (the same word used by Patty in reference to "Henry's" powers in tfs), that will essentially de-age anyone who steps inside.

(Peeping the fact that he specifically mentions the moon landing like Mr. Clarke mentions it in st3)

However, there's a catch! He didn't do his proper research! He didn't account for all possible variables! And something in his DNA is trying to change him! (Another tfs word! We love to see it!)

Rejuvenating, you say? Even after the Doctor blows up Lazarus in his monster form and he comes out entirely unscathed? Golly, I wonder who that reminds me of! Anyway.

So basically what happened is Lazarus "changed his own molecular patterns" by "hack[ing] into his own genes" which is SUCH a NINA-ass word to use. Don't even remind me of all the computer stuff that's being pushed in the st5 leaks and updates. This has seemingly activated something in his DNA that's trying to make him change, and that "change" is a giant scorpion-like monster that is absolutely ravenous. Before the Doctor and Martha are looking at his DNA, we see a scene of Dr. Lazarus grabbing a finger-food platter from one of the waitstaff at his invention's unveiling and scarfs it down, saying he's famished, which the Doctor isn't surprised by (it's insinuated that he understands, at least loosely, what's happening because of the Time Lord's ability to regenerate, which always wears them out and makes them very energy-hungry).

In his monster form, Dr. Lazarus drains all the "life-energy" out of several human victims in order to sate his hunger, leaving an empty shell. (Insert Vecna consuming his victims to get stronger, insert "Henry" killing animals in tfs to sate the Shadow and it being much more powerful when "he" finally kills Virginia, insert Max being left an empty body without a soul/life, etc. etc., you get the picture. Not to mention that the Doctor equates it to "squeezing the juice out of an orange" ... I wasn't expecting a little st vr connection, but I'll take it!). He has little to no control over his transformation, and while he can feel it coming on, he can't just snap in and out of it; it simply takes over and he changes. The first time we see him transform, he writhes on the ground in agony and his wife asks if it's "some kind of seizure" (smash cut to "Henry" in tfs seizing).

Later, after some running around, being chased, and doing some thinking, the Doctor explains to Martha that this "thing" (Lazarus) isn't alien, it's "strictly human in origin." This form was becoming "dominant" because the process of de-aging himself likely awoke some dormant genes that "evolution rejected...millions of years ago...forgotten until Lazarus unlocked it by mistake."

A big part of this episode is about hubris. Dr. Lazarus is overconfident in his invention, and he spends ample part of the start of the episode dismissing the Doctor and Martha when they both warn him that something may be wrong/this may be more dangerous than he realizes. On top of Dr. Lazarus seeking out youth/prolonged life, much like the idea that Brenner is looking for some sort of power/immortality of some kind in st (barely even touching on the other weird stuff like Brenner not aging in tfs between 1959-1979), a lot of it made me think of El tearing into Brenner in 4.08, especially her emphasis on him being the monster, on all of this being his fault, all because he couldn't let Henry go. Brenner has constantly been presented to us, throughout all mediums, to be fairly stubborn and determined to get what he wants, even if the results are catastrophic (ie. the number of guards and orderlies who have died helping him with his child dungeon project, all of the children themselves dying in one way or another, even his own ass getting jumped by a demogorgon and then shot to bleed out and "die" in the desert).

Which leads into the other core aspect of this episode: humanity.

Throughout all of Doctor Who, the Doctor makes it clear that he finds humans utterly fascinating, especially in their mundanity. He emphasizes the importance of everyone's individuality and tells everyone they're special and important, even if they don't really "do" anything. Simply being who they are is what makes them matter; they don't need to be useful or supply anything groundbreaking in order to be amazing in his eyes. They exist as humans, and that's all that matters.

In this episode, we see Lazarus talk about how humans, as they are now, are basically inferior. While a large part of his motivations are about the money he'll make off of such an invention, we learn later that he has a distinct and deep fear of death and being defenseless against it. He wants to "change what it means to be human," to give them "a chance...to evolve, to improve" and to make sure he never has to face death like he did as a child: terrified and vulnerable.

We get the two following conversations between the Doctor and Lazarus, one at about the midway point of the episode before shit really hits the fan, and the other is near the very end of the episode after shit has really hit the fan.

This next one is split into several pieces to get in all the lines because they say a lot that jumps out as very important and distinctly Brenner, with some smatterings of One's monologue and some Henry-isms, especially from tfs, and the general presence of many of The Words.

I wanna point out that the Doctor being at the London Blitz is a direct reference to the episodes I talked about in my last dw post. And I find it incredibly interesting that a lot of the original tfs promo was heavily centered around church, like how this final standoff is in a cathedral, even so far as having Mr. Newby originally be listed as Father Newby, etc., despite the final play not being as heavy-handed with the religious imagery. Idk it's just itching something in my brain! I also wanna note that, since it's kinda hard to see here, the camera pans around Lazarus in a counterclockwise circle, following the path of the Doctor as he circles him, and we aaall know how st loves to use circling camera shots like that.

I especially want to touch on the second conversation the Doctor and Lazarus have in the church. The Doctor speaks to him calmly, trying to get him to understand and have compassion for the experience that is being human rather than trying to cheat it, and that living an exceptionally long life really isn't all it's cracked up to be. Even though Lazarus is now a "monster," he's still intensely humanized. He's killed at least four people at this point, but the Doctor doesn't go about simply trying to belittle, dehumanize, or kill him.

When it comes to Brenner, unfortunately, we still don't know much about his past, but we have a lot we can assume or extrapolate, at least based off what tfs has told us and the gaps we can fill in from st itself. We know, at least vaguely, that he and his father had a strained relationship. During the opening sequence of tfs on the USS Eldridge, we hear Captain Brenner talking to his other shipmates about how "it's my kid's birthday today, he told me he hates me."

However, later in the show, Brenner tells "Henry" that his father's return from Dimension X and subsequent death because of it compelled him to join Project Rainbow and devote his life to the cause and figure out what happened. With "Henry's" seeming ability to survive being infected by the Shadow, Brenner tries to tap into that. His main goal in tfs is to make contact with the Shadow and figure out what happened to his father, and since it's then explained that he made more children like "Henry" (specifically the immunity to the Shadow/the shared blood that supposedly gives them that immunity), it's clear he's trying to avoid is father's fate in that way. In short, it very much comes off as an attempt to try and cheat death.

Brenner, throughout the show, often presents what he does as good, both for the children in the lab and for humanity as a whole (though specifically for the US, focused on beating back those nasty commies). Even if he does bad things, it's for the greater good! He has good intentions! That's gotta count for something, right? /s

Both Lazarus and Brenner went into their respective experiments because they thought they could become better than human. Or in Brenner's case, at the very least he could live vicariously through his experiments to feel better than human, which was explicitly touched on in the vr game in clips like this one. As we also see in st4, El tries to call Brenner a monster, but when she relays this thinking to Vecna, he rejects it, and calls Brenner "an ordinary, mediocre man."

Shortly after that first conversation I showed between Lazarus and the Doctor on the rooftop, after Lazarus transforms, there's a sequence where, from inside Lazarus's machine, the Doctor is able to reverse the polarity of the capsule so it reflects energy rather than receive it, and it blasts Lazarus away, turning him back into human form and supposedly killing him.

Right away, with this comment from Martha, Lazarus is equated back to an ordinary human. He's not made to be the "big bad villain" where everyone is glad he's dead, nor is he made out to be this reverent being. He's someone to be pitied. It's decidedly solemn. He was just a man out of his depth who bit off more than he could chew... much like how Brenner is a man out of his depth who bit off more than he could chew.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we learned that Brenner was actively harming himself in his attempt to do… whatever. Much like how Lazarus was harming himself (and others) in order to maintain his new youth, Brenner may be harming himself with his experiments. Whether that be via blood transfusions/consuming blood (see the post I linked from Stav above), or by doing something as drastic as physically combining himself with one of the Henwards, I doubt anything 100% good and rewarding could come from it. Even if he's looking for something like regenerative healing, as we see in Vecna and as hinted by Brenner not being dead despite getting jumped by a demogorgon, what does he have to do to reach that point? What risks are there involved that he may not have accounted for, simply because he would have no idea that they exist in the first place? Just looking at the circumstances of the weird Brenward face combo we get in 4.07… he didn’t exactly wind up in a great spot after combining himself, did he? Plus, while I'm of the mind that Vecna and the guy we see shape the Mind Flayer are two different dudes (James and Em have other posts about this as well), the way it's presented to us implies that Vecna evolved from the MF guy, so there's a sort of compounding that changes in his appearance from mostly-human to mostly-infected-by-the-UD, which... also doesn't seem great.

We can already see how being infected by the Shadow affects people, which is highlighted in Henry not sleeping and barely eating when he's flayed. Hell, Brenner saw what happened to his father after he returned from Dimension X, and he took the lives of several test subjects (many of them children) in his own experiments. He already knows that there are risks and detractions in this work.

At the very end of this dw episode, Lazarus is finally actually killed. Using the organ in the church, the Doctor amplifies its sound using his Sonic Screwdriver to create "hypersonic sound waves" in order to interfere with Lazarus on a molecular level, which is more or less the same thing he did with his machine. Lazarus falls from a high balcony within the church, disoriented by the noise, and turns back into a human upon death. He even reverts back to his "correct" elderly appearance as the Doctor kneels over him and gently shuts his eyes.

We've already seen something similar to this sort of death with Brenner in st4. While I wouldn't say it was a soft moment for him, since El was still clearly rejecting him, she still leaned into his touch, still listened to him, and clearly was grappling with a lot of messy feelings. She, in that moment, wanted to view him as a monster, but she couldn't. Not entirely. That's her Papa! That's someone who, for most of her life, despite every horrible thing he did, took care of her; who said he loved her and held her best interests at heart.

In my mind, this sort of "soft end" is what we should expect for Brenner and Vecna in st5. It could be even softer than what we see in st4, because as much as Brenner deserves to have his shit absolutely rocked, we've been increasingly shown that he is only human. Human's are not monsters, but humans can do monstrous things. That doesn't make them inhuman. And, as people like James and Em have spoken extensively about lately, Brenner is likely but one cog in the machine that is the Cycles in this show, and not necessarily the source of the cycles to begin with. He didn't pop outta the womb wanting to build a child torture dungeon, but something happened to bring him there and cloud his judgement.

And even if the death is something more intense and dramatic like that of Lazarus, it's not necessarily something to celebrate, yknow? Even if the threat is gone (which is a very good thing), it took many horrible, avoidable things to get there in the first place, and that's what's tragic.

B-B-B-Bonus Round: Just Some Extra Shit

vs "Henry" going missing in Nevada for 12 hours per tfs. Martha has been on several trips with the Doctor thus far, so there's the added bit of "the passage of time is messed up" seeing as, for her, it's been several days, but to everyone else it's only been 12 hours.

All of the above is so... yeah lol. Lazarus is repeatedly very weird to the two young women in this episode, Martha and her sister Tish, and he even rejects his elderly wife in one scene when she kisses him and he tells her to "look at [her]self." The sniffing thing even made me think of the demogorgon being given the trait of "smelling blood" so... I see you, Brennergorgon.

I could've probably fit this bit somewhere above, but I'm too lazy, so it's going here instead. Love a good boiler room setting and talking about sacrifices!

"Always the mothers" just like how Brenner say it was always the mothers who came to him convinced their children had abilities or issues, etc. (plus just a little context for Martha's mom's "dangerous" comment: this season has an overarching hidden plot about the Master, who I touched on in another one of my dw posts, wherein he basically holds political power over the city (hiding the fact that he's a Time Lord) and is trying to sabotage the Doctor).

[buckyegans]

Just Me and You, Shifty Powers

just a little imagine I crossposted on my Wattpad (boneflu) and wanted to post here!

no warnings just pure fluff

 Austria had been some sort of dream—the daily warm meal and hot showers seemed to be too good to be true. Yet, here you were, hands gripping the splintered wood of the old dock, swinging your legs to just barely graze the surface of the water below. The sky had turned pink and orange as the sun had made her way down, bringing forth the moon rising from behind the mountains. Your shoes and socks were somewhere further up the dock, your mind too focused on the coolness bringing small goosebumps up your bare legs, trousers rolled to your calves.

 "This is where you've been hidin' all night?" a soft voice asked, footsteps accompanying Shifty's voice as he made his way down the dock. You looked up, finding Darrell haloed by the wind-blewn trees and waking stars. You gave a lopsided grin and nodded, offering your hand to the sharpshooter. For a man who always wielded a rifle, the pads of his fingers were smooth, and soft. He carefully plopped down next to you, your thighs pressed together. Soon enough he was tossing his shoes and socks behind him just as you had, propping his legs up to roll his pants to match yours. His feet met the water and he let out a content sigh. "Found yourself a pretty spot, huh?" The Virginia asked.

 You nodded. "Sure did, Shift. All the boys are being too loud." you stated, looking to what he had gripped in his hand. A bottle of champagne, no doubt some lavish brand some Kraut had been waiting to pop when they won the war—but tonight, it was their victory. "Whatcha got there, Shift?" Darrell looked down to his hand and grinned, shrugging before offering it up to you. The label was a different language, you suspected French. "Where did you manage to find this?"

 You hummed, thumb pressing against the cork until it popped loudly, causing both of you to jump before turning to one another with giddy grins. You took a long swing before wiping your mouth, "here's to our alcoholic intelligence officer—and his ability to choose the good stuff."

 Shifty takes the bottle from you by its neck, tipping it into his own mouth. "Here's to him," he agreed, grimacing at the taste. Shifty's face twisted, causing you to let out a laugh, while Shifty grinned proudly. You nursed the bottle once more and drank from it once more before laying on the dock, legs hanging over. Darrell followed your movements, readjusting to get his shoulder flush against yours. He unashamedly lopped his head to the side to stare at you, your eyes fluttering shut, glowing from the sun. The hard war was evident in your tired eyes and silver scars, but Shifty thought you had never looked to gorgeous.

 "You're starin', Powers." your comment is accompanied with an amused glance at him, head falling to meet his gaze. He only hums in response, smiling with his rosy, sun-loved cheeks. "Do I have something on my face?"

 Shifty is shaking his head slowly. "No," he states shortly, grinning that smile that had gone into hiding since stepping into the Ardennes—the endless months in a permanent winter had hardened even the softest of soldiers, Shifty Powers included. Every now and again, you got him to give that little smile, hidden behind a scarf, only for you to see. But, here on this dock, it was on full display. "It's just you and me, so I get to stare all I want."

 You're cocking your head to the side and pushing yourself up to stand, brows furrowed. "Is that so?" you ask, looking down at him. Shifty is following your movements as he gives a confident nod. "And why is that?"

 He smiles again. "No distractions. No questions. No possible gunfire. Just me and you." You're inching closer with each of his words, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. "Now I can tell you how pretty I think you are." He's giddy as he says this, looking like a little kid on Christmas. You can't help but blush pink, shaking your head.

 "Was I not pretty enough in Bastogne?" you tease. Shifty is rolling his eyes playfully, shaking his head and tutting.

 He's pushing hair behind your ear. "You're always pretty. But now I don't got no competition—no one around to try and take you from this moment. Just you and me?"

 You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down closer and closer. "So," you trail off. "What are you gonna do now that it's just you and me?"

 Shifty grins. "Well, I'd like to kiss you."

 You laugh. "Kiss me, Darrell."

[differenteagletragedy]

My OC is a short plus size laaaady who doesn't believe in wearing clothing that is black or white when she can utilize all the colors of the rainbow, is very shy/nervous but expresses herself by dressing like a CUTE circus clown, loves baking and bakes stuff for Baxter regularly, knitted him a scarf he can wear when he goes back to Virginia and has dark brown eyes that are pretty similar in color to his so he's reminded of her when he looks in the mirror :)

[sweatyrickgrimes]

i had some ideas for that young regan AU ive been drawing and i cant really write a fic but i wanted to share the ideas/headcannons i had anyways

* they met each other by chance, negan dropped out of college spending his time driving around till his money ran out, it ran out in georgia

* rick had been a farmhand for as long as he could remember, helping out since he was a kid til he could start doing the "real" work, he loves the cows and his horse, the few goats around seem to have an issue with him

* negan started working at the small town diner so he could survive, he was an instant hit with the locals making small talk which the older folks appreciated, his 'edgy' look and him being new was the town gossip for hot minute

* the first time they saw each other rick was having a late dinner after a long day of work, negan usually worked mornings but he had closing shift today

* immediately negan was smitten, a full on cowboy who was his age? rick looked tired but he still smiled asking how fresh the coffee was, negan made him a whole new pot

* the dinner rush had passed so it was just them, the cooks, and a couple quiet patrons lounging more than they were eating

* negan debated whether or not to hoover by ricks table, rick noticed him staring trying to hide he was finishing his coffee with a bit of speed so negan would have to top him off

* it worked tho and negan completely disregarded his job once he was done pouring ricks second cup, negan looked around at the other customers before sliding into the booth putting up a hand to properly introduce himself, negan noticed how rough ricks hands were and how nice his name sounded in ricks voice when he repeated it back to make sure he heard him right

* the conversation was muddled with shy glances and small laughs from rick, he found negan was loud and had character and maybe a bit of foul mouth but it made his dinner much more interesting

* rick stayed till closing and negan sent him away with a to-go coffee and a greasy receipt with his number

* rick and negan dating became the new talk of the town, unless they were working you couldn't see one without the other

* they never officially discussed moving in together but one day all negans things were at rick simple 1 bedroom home with his clunker parked right next to ricks pickup

* when negan met ricks parents rick was a nervous wreck, he loves negan but the guy lacks the kind of manners his parents would be looking for, the kind of old fashion folks that will remind you no elbows on the table

* negan assures rick he'll be on his absolute best behavior, he borrows one or ricks shirts since most of his smell like cigarettes and have some band logo on them, negan almost doesnt smudge his usual eyeliner under his eyes but rick says fuck it he should bc he likes how it looks

* rick had early mornings needing to get to the farm before the sun, every night negan set up their coffee pot so all rick had to do was turn it on, rick never left without giving negan a kiss on the head, sometimes negan woke up groggily asking for a real kiss

* some weekends negan could convince rick they should drive to the city for some fun, mostly he just wanted rick to take him to one of the music stores and peruse the records with rick trailing behind, negan ofc went through the country section too just for rick

* negan insists they dance in the living room, putting his newest record on even if it isn't typical "dance music" rick tries his best to find his rhythm but it doesn't really matter, negans holding him close singing along not a care in the world except for rick

* rick starts stealing negans scarf when the weather cools, its not that thick and doesnt help all that much to keep rick warm but he wears it anyways

* when the holidays hit negan's debating if he wants to stay with rick or travel back to virginia to see his family, rick convinces him he should go and he'll be right where negan left him

* rick realizes how much of a presence negan has in their home while he's gone, and how much better negans cooking is

* they agreed to call each other every night at 9, it always starts with a string of 'i miss you's and filling each in on their days, multiple times negan will try to get rick to talk dirty but rick reminds him he can just hang up, rick wont admit it but he's fallen asleep with the phone in his hand more than once

* when negan's back in georgia rick nearly tackles him to the ground when he sees him, kisses him so hard his cowboy hat falls off , to ricks surprise negan was sent home with a gift for him from his mom, its nothing fancy but rick could cry at the thought, negan mentions that his family would really like to meet him

* they start noticing a stray kitten wondering around their home, both men excitedly peek out the screen door when the tiny thing drinks from the bowl they put out, soon it goes from the outside cat to their 'child', after a vet visit they find out its a she and despite some fleas shes fine, they name her basil

* the next town over gets a movie theatre and they both lose their minds, date nights now consist of seeing whatever is new (theyre partial to horror or any form of crime dramas) and getting ice cream, they'll sit in the bed of ricks truck talking about whatever film they saw

* negan finds out from ricks parents that rick used to draw a lot as a kid, he knows rick hasnt kept up with that hobby so he buys some good pencils and a sketchbook as a surprise, rick doesn't react much to them at first saying he hasnt drawn in years but negan catches him sitting on their porch sketching out basil playing in the yard

* often times when theyre out negan takes ricks hat right off his head and puts it on his own, other times when ricks feeling a bit sappy himself he'll put it on negan

* negan tries to convince rick to let him pierce his ear, rick refuses over and over again until theyre both drunk at a party and he finally says 'fuck it', he takes it out the next day

* rick thinks negans tattoos are cool, negan tells him theyre just scratchers done in basements when he was younger and broke but rick still lovingly traces them when theyre exposed

* they play wrestle a lot, something about them still being young and full of testosterone has them trying to pin each other down and put the other in a choke hold, rick usually wins

* rick never buys his own pack of cigarettes he only ever takes them from negan but he always carries a lighter on him

* they dream about the future together, theres been a lot of ideas thrown around some realistic and others so far-fetched theyre both laughing but either way they're planning on being together

[sentient-catctus]

Headcanon how Virginia warms up to Tim and Kelvin when they first crashed to the island. She wasn't sure at first and feared they might mistaken her for another hostile creatures just like any cannibals or mutants infesting the island. But she decides to watch them from the time being and slowly building courage to approach them.

Virginia caught glimpses of Tim's tender bonding time with Kelvin as he gradually cleans his ears off and puts medicine on him, seeing Tim gentle gaze on Kelvin being fast asleep when he's on night guard duty or when they are eating together. She even alerted Tim of the cannibals approaching before she took off after she saw Tim vigilantly warding off the cannibals making sure Kelvin wasn't in harm's way. In turn, it makes Virginia more curious and starts to trust them little by little visiting and getting closer to their base. The turning point was her sitting by the campfire and watching them in silence as they scarf down grilled fish Kelvin caught and Tim handing one to her and Virginia carefully takes it.