#yes I just watched the movie yesterday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirchloe · 24 days ago

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i never post scrapped parts separately, but this 17 page dion pov segment was the bane of my existence for the entire month, and i don't want to let it go to waste, so here it is, entirely unedited. i think as you'll read, compared to what happens in the last chapter, it brings everything to a grinding halt, like a game of catch up to bring the other characters up to speed for the readers. it's very "here they are! here's what they were doing right up to that specific moment where raz is just about ready to take on the big bad! here are their very specific mentalities! they sure just keep TALKING! and LOOKING!" it felt so repetitive and dialogue-heavy that when i kept re-reading the past chapters, this scrapped chapter felt like walking into a wall and having to climb it to get back to the actual plot relevant stuff.

there are definitely things i would liked to save, but scaling down these conversations, making them more concise, it would really fit the story better.

When Dion learned what happened to Raz, if he wasn’t so shocked, then he could have collapsed on the spot.

As soon as his mother cried out over the phone, jolting Dion out of his daily stretches, he rushed to her side. His younger siblings followed, each in different stages of concern, only for their mutual distress to heighten when Donatella sank to her knees. The phone had slipped out of her hands, the springy cord causing it to dangle and swing. Their father grasped it, quickly raising it to his ear and addressing the other side with the proper poise of a hardened ringmaster. While Frazie tended to Donatella, who whispered in a hushed, yet shrill voice, Dion observed his father with wide eyes and clenched fists.

Augustus’ panicked voice killed any semblance of calm. “What? What do you m-? How could this have happened? Yes, yes, I - did you say imprisoned? Why would anyone-?”

But when Augustus floundered, cupping his mouth with tense fingers, it was like when his memories flooded in from the locked parts of his mind. All of a sudden, Augustus lost strength in his legs. He collapsed to the ground, struggling to hold onto the phone. He struggled to speak, frantically demanding answers that the other person could not provide. There was nothing Dion could do as a bystander to his father’s suffering, just as he had felt throughout his life. He was only able to offer comfort when the Aquatos linked their arms around him and each other before braving the storm as a family.

This was different, and yet, all the same. Augustus had been lost for words before, but now, as he failed to string together a sentence, he was like a weathered, battered mirror on the verge of cracking. He was deathly pale, as if multiple needles had punctured his veins and drained him of blood. Hobbling to his feet, he held the wall, his hand placed between strung-up, framed photographs of their family. His thumb caressed Raz’s face, his cherub cheeks, and Dion had almost forgotten he was so small as a toddler.

“Dad, what’s going on?” he remembered asking over the sound of Donatella’s cries..

Augustus shook his head. His face was wrinkled. He seemed to have aged in minutes.

“It’s your brother. It’s Razputin. He’s hurt.”

Dion may as well have taken a punch to the gut. He whipped his head to Donatella, finding her balling her hands into tense fists. She rose from her knees, Frazie and MIrtala holding her for support. Lost for words, he looked among his family, searching for answers only two of them could give.

“‘Hurt?’ How?” Queepie wondered, fidgeting with his collar. “I thought Raz was one of their top agents. How’d he get hurt?

“Pootie was tricked,” Donatella snapped, full of venom. “He’s trapped in another boy’s mind. His-his coworker or whatever! She said they can’t find a way to free him!”

Dion had no fathomable idea what that implied. Frazie, however, stiffened. She was the one demanding to know who had done it.

“Frazie, what does that mean? Trapped in someone’s mind?” Dion tried to breach through the chaos, but Frazie was unwavering, reiterating her question. He once again looked to their father, who brought the phone to his ear, and shouted, “Dad, hey, tell me! What does Mom mean that they can’t free him? Who did this to Raz? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s because of a contraption that I hardly understand myself, but it’s an intern behind Razputin’s entrapment. He’s someone your brother has had many problems with over the years.”

Augustus’ grave voice lowered. Donatella snatched the phone from him, barking over the gentle, hardly soothing voice of Agent Vodello struggling to get a single word out. He briefly looked at Mirtala, before uttering a heavy-hearted sigh.

“You know him. It’s a boy named Bobby Zilch.”

Mirtala’s irises dilated. Twin, dark circles enveloped their cerulean shade. She clasped her hands, shaking her head, her jaw twitching. Dion shrank to her side and rubbed her back before her tears could fall. He held her close and listened to her emit a whine like a monotonous siren, her pitch warbling, and he gnawed on the insides of his cheeks.

Again, there was nothing he could do. Providing meager comfort was drudgery when he was utterly helpless. Throughout the ride to the Motherlobe, he stewed and broiled with contempt, holding the shivering, weeping Mirtala to his chest.

For anyone to single out his little brother, they must have wracked with jealousy. Dion knew Raz was talented, progressing with his powers at lightning speed. He was more of a Psychonaut than an acrobat in recent days, but as Dion recalled, he had tried teaching Raz to hide his psychic abilities, repeating verbatim their father’s instructions. When he thought they were cursed to drown, as Dion stared out the window, Queepie resting in Frazie’s lap, he bit his nails into his palms for every sorrowful look Raz gave him after a harsh admonishment.

And then, witnessing Raz in such disarray, slumped against an overgrown apparatus, his malice dissipated. Raz was entirely expressionless, blankly gazing at nothing through half-lidded eyes. How their mother threw herself at his knees, screaming for him to wake up, Dion only heard static.

It was brief, however, as Dion caught sight of the real monster. The one who forced Raz into such a servile position was seated on the opposite side of the Brain Tumbler. His world was slathered in hues of blood red, and Dion’s one regret, in that moment, was letting Frazie get a charging head start.

It took the combined efforts of Oleander and Helmut to maintain the physical distance between the Aquatos and Bobby. Hollis had, somehow, managed to persuade them to remain calm. Then, he watched his mother sink once again to Raz’s knees, bawling against his shins while the Second Head tried consoling her. As explained, there was nothing they could do yet. They couldn’t discern why Raz was trapped when they already removed those peculiar locks. Otto theorized why, but Dion hadn’t heard a word over his mother’s sobering howling.

Hours passed. The tenuous peace eventually shattered. He couldn’t remember what he had snapped at the other agents scattered across the lab. All he remembered was Gisu on the floor, her cheek bruised from Frazie’s elbow swatting her when she teleported in with more devices. Somewhere in the chaos, Helmut was tossed by Queepie, and they, too, were tossed out of Sasha’s lab, letting more and more time pass. It was true chaos, now blanketed in a dense silence.

Someone’s stomach growled and shattered the stillness. It might have been his own. Dion thought his last meal was yesterday’s breakfast. Lili, with dark rings under her eyes, had been nice enough to bring them sandwiches covered in shrinkwrap, but he couldn’t stomach a crumb.

Now that he had returned to reality, acknowledging where he stood, he also couldn’t stomach the intern currently yapping his ear off.

She was about Raz’s height, give or take an inch. Dressed in jeans and a graphic T-shirt, her hair pulled back in tight buns, she somehow looked professional for a teenage intern. When she waltzed over, Mirtala said her name was Phoebe. He didn’t know when she weaseled her way over to them in a wing that was supposedly blocked off with clearance allowed for only particular agents.

Then, much to Dion’s mutual bewilderment shared with his family, Phoebe supplied them with a chance at therapy.

“...and so, that’s what I’m offering because I know how long you guys have been here, and I, well, I heard you weren’t treated the best. Word gets out fast in the Motherlobe,” she explained, folding her hands in front of her waist. She smiled, teeth pearly white and braced. “Any takers? I really do want to help as best as I can, so while they help Raz, I can help you.”

Dion thought Raz was long-winded, but she took the cake. Sweeping his fingers through his greasy hair, grimacing at the faint film on his palm, he said, “Listen, I don’t want to chew you out, but we’re not in the mood. It’s a nice gesture, I guess. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Phoebe frowned, the answer clearly going against her expectations. She surveyed the Aquatos, and Dion had enough of being watched. Pushing off the wall, spotting that Oleander and Milla had absconded from their duties of observing the Aquatos, he raised his hands. He took a stand in front of his family, Augustus and Nona still with Raz. While Donatella remained on her bottom by a window, Queepie and Mirtala murmuring to her, he was glad Frazie joined him shoulder-to-shoulder in protecting their withdrawn, haggard mother. Phoebe stepped back. She seemed to register her advances were unwanted. “Sorry. Maybe that was impetuous of me. Bad timing, too. I know this is a dire situation, and Bobby totally deserves your anger, so if you want to discuss anything with me, or just want to vent, I’m here for you guys. Raz is my friend, too, and I also-” She peeked around Frazie. “-wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, Tala. How are you? We haven’t had a chance to talk since I graduated from Whispering Rock.”

Dion looked at Mirtala, but she wasn’t returning Phoebe’s smile. She stood with Donatella, her flushed face pinching. As Donatella wiped her eyes for what must have been the thousandth, her deep violet mascara staining her cheeks, Mirtala stated, “We aren’t as close as you think, Phoebe.”

She balked. Behind her, Dion saw her two friends waiting in the wing appearing equally mystified. There was an assortment of other interns, too, but they were merely faces in the crowd. Phoebe struggled to respond, but Donatella thrust out her hand. Queepie quickly grabbed it, helping her stand while Mirtala steadied Donatella’s waist.

“Please, just go,” she ordered, and she pointed, though there was no strength in her posture. “This is a family matter. It doesn’t involve you. I won’t give you brownie points for coming over and lecturing us. Take your gaggle of onlookers, and leave us alone.”

“Oh! Um, that’s not at all what I wanted to do. ‘Lecturing?’ Wait, really, I’m not trying to talk down to you guys.” Phoebe folded her arms, a myriad of reactions flooding through her as Donatella leered. “I, uh, look, I’m sorry, Mrs. Aquato, but I’m not trying to get your bad side. Bobby’s the one-”

“Whoa, whoa, Phoebe, area’s off limits. I’m gonna need you to skedaddle.”

Lizzie’s voice echoed as she sauntered from the lab, followed by her assortment of fellow agents. She patted Phoebe’s back, coaxing her to leave. Phoebe rubbed her arm, clearly dissatisfied with the responses she received.

“You guys know the drill. Up and out.” Morris clapped his hands sharply. “Come on. Let’s go. Quentin, Elka, the rest of you, I don’t need to tell you twice.”

Norma set her index finger on the bridge of her glasses, peering at Phoebe. “I understand what you’re doing, but this isn’t the time. You think you’re helping by offering to hear them out, and that’s not what they need. What they require is a definite solution to end this problem.”

Dion’s knuckles ached. He hadn’t realized how intensely he had been clenching his fists. He shifted his gaze toward the lab, knowing nothing of substance was occurring. Until the obvious happened, then the Aquatos would never feel secure, and for Dion, he sensed he wouldn’t be well until he heard that annoying, endearing, high-pitched chuckle.

Phoebe tried again. “But Agent Natividad-”

She lifted her head, pointing with her chin. “They’re clearly not in the mood. Leave it to us, Phoebe, and go with the interns. There should be some scavenger hunt items for you to locate somewhere around the Motherlobe, so I suggest you hop to it.”

Phoebe bit her lip. She sagged under her mentor’s firm derailment. She tried to meet Mirtala’s eyes, but Mirtala ducked her chin to her chest. Frazie reached back and gripped her shoulder, scowling at Phoebe, who had taken on a true visage of dejection. The brunt of their anger was given to her full force, and briefly, just briefly, Dion pitied her.

Relenting, Phoebe nodded. She opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it. Instead of an excuse, she mustered an apology. She retreated to the other interns, giving a parting glare toward Sasha’s lab. They walked off, escorted by older agents, who finally realized the commotion and ordered them to stay away.

Donatella accepted the box of tissues offered by Sam. She thanked her in a thick, tight voice before blowing her nose. She rasped for breath, taking another tissue for good measure. As she cleaned herself for what might have been the tenth time, she said she needed a minute and dragged herself to the window. It overlooked parts of the Quarry, but Dion couldn’t find any beauty in the glistening, clear waters. They may as well have been bubbling and polluted.

No one spoke. Glances were given, not words. Dion locked eyes with Gisu, and still, he couldn’t grasp what needed to be said. Gisu, along with the rest of the agents, were just as withdrawn. Nobody had slept, evidenced by the shared dark circles under their eyes. If they had eaten, the amount of food was in small, unfulfilling quantities, such as Lili’s unwrapped, untouched sandwiches.Lili

Frazie drew in a sharp, sudden breath and flatly remarked, “Sorry I walloped you, Gisu.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, no problem. You didn’t know I’d teleport to that spot. I’m lucky your elbow didn’t materialize through my skull.”

Dion pulled a face, but stopped himself from replying when he noticed Queepie fidgeting with his sleeve. He asked him what was wrong.

Queepie turned his attention to Morris. “Is, uh, Mr. Fullbear still mad I threw him?” He chuckled, leaning forward in his chair. He reached over and ruffled Queepie’s hair, parted on the side. “The big guy’s tougher than you give him credit for, man. He was frozen for twenty years, so you’d think his muscles would’ve atrophied, but nope. He’s built like a brick shithouse.”

Donatella immediately glowered at him for the language in front of her ten-year-old. Morris pretended not to notice, eyes flitting across each sibling before sharing a quick grin with Queepie.

“Physical therapy has kept him strong,” Adam piped up, fingers typically steepled. “Not to mention the ice kept him perfectly preserved. His husband once told me he’s jealous that his bones aren’t clicking as much as his.”

“He even has better posture than Norma,” Sam added, earning a scoff of surprise from her intended, or unintended, target.

“Hey, my back is - oh, I’m not getting into a tit for tat with you. It’s already too tiring.”

“Even if she’s right?” Lizzle drawled, elbowing her sister, and earning a quiet titter of giggles from Mirtala. She grinned a lopsided smile. “Hey, finally, I got a laugh out of you. Being morose doesn’t suit you.”

Dion couldn’t bring the corners of his lips to rise. As sweet as it was to hear her soft laughter, it was not enough to bandage their wounds. He looked at Donatella, finding she was already departing from the group. She swayed toward the nearest window, and although his back was turned, he sensed she was not observing the surrounding foliage or crystal clear water.

Frazie huffed out a breath like a frustrated horse. She cupped her knitted brows, her expression twisting. She opened her mouth, and said nothing. Then, she rolled her head back and slackened her arms, asking the obvious.

“I think enough time has passed, so does…does anyone know why this happened? Any fathomable reason?”

As she tossed out her hands, the agents weren’t responding. Sam looked at the others, and Morris crossed his arms. Gisu fidgeted with the strap of her new, leather bag. She sent a glance toward Norma, who maintained eye contact with Frazie.

At Lizzie’s nod, Adam sighed. He lowered his shoulders. Dion heard his joints grind.

“When we saw Raz last, Bobby lashed out at him. Sure, Raz goaded him, but that’s not enough. There’s been a history of provocation, more so on Bobby’s side, and this was a meticulously planned attack on Raz. The PSI locks jamming the Brain Tumbler, for example, were ones Bobby had been seemingly working on for some time.”

Gisu added, “With how many Bobby wedged in the Brain Tumbler, it would take at least a few weeks for someone without technical knowledge to create. Otto said they were cheap or something, but that just goes to show how far Bobby was willing to go. He must’ve been feeling-”

“That asshole has been planning this for a while, right? I don’t need to hear anything else.” Dion scoffed, gripping his elbows, and Gisu frowned, as if she was biting her tongue. “He’s always had it out for Raz. Day one in that camp? Raz told me that guy fired at him from a tank. A tank! Ever since then, he’s been jealous and spiteful, all because Raz was better than him. A bastard with a violent streak like that never should’ve been allowed in the Psychonauts.”

He punctuated his frustration by slamming his fist into his open palm. He didn’t want to hear any further reasoning. It didn’t matter. Raz was still a prisoner in Bobby’s mind, facing unknown tribulations while his family stood on the outskirts.

This time, they weren’t permitted to help. They couldn’t rush into action. Like bit players, they were watching the show with the curtain veiled over the stage. As he was sure his brother’s body was becoming colder and paler, Dion didn’t want to consider anything beneficial for Bobby. Whatever he felt, whatever he endured, it was secondary to the suffering he must have been enforcing upon Raz.

Frazie glanced at Dion, sucking in a breath, then huffing it out, deciding it was worth saying. “I don’t know about that last part, Dion.” “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what I said?” Dion felt their mother’s eyes boring through him, as if compelling him to question them in her stead. “This guy attacked Raz! Trapped him in his mind! He’s definitely brutalized him! How else am I supposed to interpret it, huh?”

Adam’s voice was clipped. “The Psychonauts don’t abandon their own. This obviously wasn’t a standalone act of violence.”

“I don’t want to hear anything excusing that asshole! He hurt Raz! End of story!”

“Earlier, when you said-” Lizzie peered at Mirtala, who waited with wide, dull eyes, and Dion snorted as he was ignored. “-Bobby looked like he was crying, it had us all wondering. Things that were missed that led up to him, well, cracking.”

Sam stroked her arm, unblinking as she spoke in an uncharacteristically somber tone. “Kind of like how a dam breaks.”

As Queepie gasped, and Mirtala covered her mouth, Donatella whipped her head over her shoulder. Dion didn’t need to stare at her. He knew shock was scorching her face a brilliant scarlet. Every bit of reddened rage colored his cheeks, as well. Dion’s insides twisted, his own emotions in turmoil. He raised a slow, accusatory finger at Sam’s face, hunching forward as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“You better not mean what I think you’re implying. Nona’s circumstances were different and way more excruciating. You keep her name out of your mouth.”

Sam didn’t flinch. None of them did.

Dion felt like a cauldron boiling over with toxic carbonation. If what she implied was true, then they had the nerve to compare Nona, who had been a corrupt gzar’s political pawn, to a manipulative fraud like Bobby Zilch. She had been berated and barraged with tragedy. What could have even been comparable? Failing an obstacle course in summer camp while Raz strived? Being unable to learn a psychic skill with the same aptitude as Raz? Hiding behind a tree and glaring at their family when they visited the Motherlobe? It was ridiculous, a cruel joke to believe their weight was equal. Dion shook with such palpable rage that he had half a mind to storm into the lab and smash his tired fist through that contraption, if it meant rescuing his brother from a devil in disguise.

“Dion,” Frazie snapped, gripping her head once more, “drop it. Just drop it.”

He pivoted to Frazie, incredulous. “Nona is nothing like the guy who singled out Raz. Are you defending him now?”

“Ugh! I’m not. I wouldn’t. The Psychonauts-” Frazie filled her chest with air and exhaled with pained exertion. “The Psychonauts helped Nona when our world turned upside down, all right? When that happened, they protected her.” She held up her hands. “Adam’s right. It’s not like them to abandon anyone in need. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re leaving a lot out and-”

“Look, just let us finish. We’ve been going over this diligently with the senior agents, and we want you to hear us out,” Norma insisted, and she lightly patted Gisu’s shoulder, prompting her to continue before Dion could shout.

“Trapping Raz, Bobby definitely intended to hurt him. No other facts point otherwise, but when Lizzie told us Tala’s observation, we started wondering if this really was a cry for help. Heck, Oleander even phoned home and learned Bobby was-”

“You’re joking! None of this was a cry for help! Raz was deceived! So were the rest of you!” Dion barked. He couldn’t believe they had spent a few summers of youthful bliss together. For her to so much as consider a plight of decency for the unforgivable whelp who had harmed Raz, he wanted to scrub his mouth out with soap.

“Or whatever Bobby originally wanted was turned into something else between them,” Sam stressed. “Y’know, becoming a cry for help. They haven’t made any messed up noises in a few hours, right?”

“No! Not right! What the hell is wrong you guys? You’re making up excuses.”

“Not like we’ll know what’s actually happening until they emerge,” Morris retorted, drumming his fingers on the fortified armrests of his new chair. “So, at this point, with how long this has gone on, the Psychonauts are willing to give Bobby the benefit of the doubt. We want to hear what Raz says before any hasty decisions are made, too. That’s coming from the Grand Head himself.”

Dion shook his head. They may as well have promoted Bobby as a Psychonaut for his daring little scheme. It was like they were looking the other way, pretending not to see Raz. They could say how much they cared for Raz, how much they wanted to see him back on his feet, all while espousing platitudes for his kidnapper. It was a low bar for the Psychonauts, declaring Bobby would face consequences, and they couldn’t cross that nanoscopic threshold.

“We won’t know the whole truth until they’re freed, and we’ll go from there. That’s what Hollis and Truman have decided with the other agents,” Norma concluded, and she clutched her wrist, meeting Frazie’s narrowed gaze. “With how quiet things have been, and no visible, physical reactions have been happening for the past few hours, it’s a possibility things are calmer between them in Bobby’s mind.”

Dion chewed on the inside of his cheek. His family was stuck outside, left to take their statements at face value. The lab was right there, but it was like they had to traverse across a moat to reach the castle. They had some nerve deciding on what to do without consulting his family.

Regardless, he watched Mirtala approach. She wrung her hands, rolling her wrists. His stomach flipped at her agonizingly hopeful voice, like tittering birdsong from a weary, groggy sparrow.

“You mean, they could be working it out? And maybe-maybe things will be okay?”

Norma managed a smile that twitched a little more than probably intended. “That’s my, well, our hopeful conjecture. Trust me when I say we’ve been debating this for some time amongst ourselves and our superiors.”

Queepie itched through his scalp, his hair just as flat and matted as Dion’s. The embodiment of discomfort, he mumbled, “I mean, I won’t believe anything until I hear it from Raz. He better wake up soon.”

“I’m-I’m sure he will,” Mirtala said, spinning to his side. “I bet Boo, uh, Bobby will, too, and they can tell us what happened.”

Yeah, if I don’t get to that guy’s scrawny neck first.

Dion let those words fester in his mind. No matter the carefully curated statements, he wasn’t interested in comprehending their rationale. If he was in a better mood, then he might have admitted they made observations with merit. He hadn’t heard a single, dismal groan echoing from Raz in some time. For that, he guessed he was grateful the situation had seemingly calmed.

In the end, the one who mattered was Raz. He was still suffering in an unknowable mind with a person who loathed him beyond petty, childish rivalry. Whatever Bobby had endured, or supposedly endured, was nothing compared to the horrors he must have been enacting upon Raz.

One glance at his sister affirmed his trepidation. Frazie’s gaze teetered toward the lab. Norma uttered her name, and she stiffened. The attention was clearly unwanted, a burden on her tense back. She looked down, spotting Queepie, Mirtala, but Raz was not with them. There should have been five high-flying, death-defying Aquato siblings, not four.

She withered. A tree without roots was destined to falter.

“I get it. That guy hates Raz. Whenever Raz visited, sometimes, he mentioned a problem he had with that asshole. I swear, I’d see him lurking in the Questionable Area when me and Raz were catching up on our acrobatics.” Dion heard her jaw click. “But even if you guys say all that, say there’s a method to his madness, to trick Raz while he’s vulnerable, and trap him in his mind? I still can’t figure it out. What did Raz do that was so bad? No, actually, why Raz? Why hurt Raz at all?”

Her voice cracked. She tossed out her hands. But no one could provide proof. Explanations were paltry, a means to delineate the facts when the obvious inference rang loud and true. Dion gripped his elbows, squeezed his eyes shut, and saw Raz’s limp, bloodless body slumped against the Brain Tumbler.

Raz was imprisoned in Bobby’s mind. Nothing else mattered. No matter what was happening or had occurred, it didn’t smooth over the real truth like an eroded stone at the bottom of the sea. Until Raz was safe and free from Bobby’s clutches, Dion couldn’t rest, even as his head throbbed and heart rattled between his ribs.

He heard Donatella sniff. Her footsteps dwindled. She must have returned to the window.

Norma peered at her fellow agents. They wore their sympathetic masks, lips turned downward, slight mist glazing a few eyes. She seemed to speak for all of them. “There’s no justification. There’s only what we can do to understand when they’re out.”

“You should have just said the first part.”

When his mother interrupted, it hit Dion very, very suddenly that she had been far too quiet. Even her footsteps were pittering.

Everyone faced her. Mirtala’s silver bells chiming out of tune when she jerked her head. Donatella hunkered forward with her clenched fist on the rounded window. She slowly shook her head, leering at the dull carpet and potted ferns. If she had psychic powers, then Dion believed she would have set the entire Motherlobe ablaze in a swarm of uncontrollable flames.

Lizzie tempted her fury. “Uh, what do you mean? We-”

“You heard me!” she spat, flinging out her fist, each finger extending like whips. “Pootie is innocent. Pootie has done nothing wrong, and-and as soon as he emerges, I’m taking him out of the Psychonauts! He is coming home!” “Mom!” Frazie blurted, eyes shooting wide open. “You can’t just-”

“Don’t Mom me, Frazie. After today, after all this, you’re just as shocked as I am. You asked why someone would do this to Raz? Wel, such a situation never should have happened. If he stayed with us-”

“I understand you’re upset,” Norma hastily interjected, “but that’s not your decision. Raz is-”

Donatella huffed, breathing so hard that Dion thought her lungs would give out., Her mascara stains worsened as a glossy sheen of sweat dampened her face. It seemed she no longer cared about her once graceful appearance, nothing more than a caricature of maternal sorrow.

“I’ve had enough listening to the six of you. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you say you’re Raz’s friends?” She snapped her attention to Mirtala, who squeaked, and Dion winced. “And you say that monster was crying, Tala? So what? He attacked your brother! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten those nights when you’d come to me telling a story about how he insulted or berated you, too.”

Mirtala shifted. She couldn’t meet Donatella in the middle. Dion kept his hands to himself.

“It’s a possible sign of guilt,” Norma snapped, swiftly regaining her composure. “Since this has gone for so long, it’s more likely than not Bobby’s dealing with some heavy regrets about the entire situation. ”

“And don’t forget Raz is a Psychonaut. There’s a chance he’s handling this,” Lizzie added, standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “Yeah, this sucks. Totally, completely blows. No one is saying this isn’t hell on Earth for everyone, but even so, you can’t make the choice to take Raz away from something he loves doing.”

“‘Loves doing?’ Oh, you’re telling me he loves being sequestered in that monster’s mind?” “Not at all what I said, and you know it, lady.”

Adam shot Lizzie a look, their mutual frustration palpable. “What Lizzie means to say is-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what any of you say. I don’t give a rat’s ass for what that monster could say.” Donatella flung her finger toward the lab, her tone strident, so potent that every window in the Motherlobe could have shattered from her sonic decibels. “What could he possibly say other than a cheap sorry? He still made the decision to hurt my son! I want my son home! None of you could protect him! None of you! I couldn’t! I-!”

She choked. As if something was lodged in throat, she hacked and hobbled. Fresh sobs wracked her entire body. She was far frailer than Dion had ever seen, a porcelain doll with gilded, widening cracks. She may as well have shattered. No gold would cement her together again as Donatella cried. Through the black tears dripping between her fingers, staining the carpet in inky droplets, she raked her fingers through her unkempt hair splayed in lank strands over her shoulders.

Queepie rushed to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Mirtala was quick to join, a stumble in her step. Donatella scooped them up like she would lose them, too, as if an invisible force would rip them from her iron grip.

Frazie dragged a finger along her damp eyelids. She looked at the agents, commiserating. Norma reached her first, one hand to her bicep, saying nothing. Dion wasn’t sure what could have been sound as the anguished howls of a broken mother rolled throughout the dismal, quiet Motherlobe.

Dion tipped his chin to his chest. He could barely suck in air through his gritted teeth. He grinded on them so hard that they may as well have turned to chalk.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve decided. He’s coming home. My baby is coming home with us. He’s going to stay with his family. He’s been away long enough. I can’t trust you people to keep him safe.”

Donatella wheezed her desires through chattering teeth. She glared over her youngest children toward the lab, and Dion heard the soft clicking of approaching heels, tempered by quickening footsteps of rainboots.

“And I know I certainly can’t trust him with the likes of you.”

The visage of the Lesser Head of the Psychonauts did not change. She stood with her arms behind her back, looking down on Donatella with an unreadable expression. Lili bristled, glancing between them, before settling on crossing her arms when Hollis stepped toward Donatella. “Mrs. Aquato,” she said with undeserved evenness, “can we speak privately?” “This is private enough,” Donatella hissed, relinquishing her grip on Queepie and Mirtala to gesture. “Now that those weaselly interns are gone, no one else is in this corridor. If you want to preach to me, too, do it in front of everyone.”

She did not waver. She simply extended her arm. “Just down the hall. Please. I want to talk to you alone.”

Donatella shook. She glared out the window, only to scoff when she seemed to have spotted Hollis’ reflection. When Hollis reached into her pocket and retrieved a small packet of tissues, Donatella scrubbed her eyes with her dried, blackened knuckles.

As Donatella continued refusing her, Dion was surprised when Hollis turned to him. He wasn’t psychic. He thought she would have deferred to Frazie, who had undergone her tutelage. Frazie might not have been a Psychonaut, and yet, she still had an in that Dion lacked. She did not reach physically, as Dion took a solitary step away, and as if sensing his apprehension, Hollis addressed him from where she stood.

“I’m sorry. I failed,” she murmured, and Dion saw the rings under her eyes, somehow even darker than the ones under his. Her exhaustion bled into her slow words. “Plain and simple, I failed both Raz and Bobby. If you want to discuss missed signs, I should’ve realized everything much sooner. I shouldn’t have berated Raz for his obvious distrust. I shouldn’t have been quick to believe Bobby’s tears. Whatever is happening in Bobby’s mind, whatever Raz is going through, it’s on me. The Psychonauts take full responsibility.”

“Agent Forsythe-” Norma began, but Hollis raised his hand.

“An apology means nothing without action,” she said, and she looked to Donatella, who continued leering out the window, “which is why I’ll hope you’ll grant me the courtesy-” “Courtesy,” Donatella snarled.

“-to talk in private. Away from this very upsetting place. Even if it’s just right over there.”

“You must have lost your brain somewhere. Is it rolling around in one of those little capsules? If you think I’ll spend a second with you, you’re madder than a hatter.”

Dion dug his fingernails into his hips. Tension eased in his shoulders, so much so that they cracked as they lowered. With the discussion coming to a dead halt, he heard the blood pulsing between his ears. A rhythmic, monotonous flow almost dizzied him, and his damp eyes fluttered to stay afloat. He searched among the group, his austere mother leering down at the Second Head, who no longer wore her pride on her expansive shoulder pads.

Lili bared her teeth, ready to speak, but Hollis cupped her shoulder. She shook her head, dispelling the foaming fury that must have been rising in her throat. Donatella peered at her, one eyebrow neatly arched, and Dion assumed she was surprised Lili would seemingly muster an attempt to defend Hollis.

Left with his thoughts, Dion clutched his dry, cracked elbows. Without a word bouncing among them, he directed his gaze toward the lab, as he had done countless times. He knew what was happening, and no progress was being made in any meaningful manner. Patience was never his virtue. He had been still and stiff and silent long enough.

But he kept looking at Hollis. He presumed her to be a powerful leader. She was responsible for the Psychonauts under her care. Interns, agents, retirees, it didn’t matter. With how long she had known and trained Raz, the Motherlobe like a second home whenever Raz wasn’t traveling with his family, Hollis had garnered a tight-knit relationship with his little brother. Dion remembered how proud Raz was whenever he could state Hollis had trusted him with a mission, or took the time to further his training in private. Around the campfire, Raz rarely had a negative word about Hollis, even if their mother grumbled.

He glanced at the other agents. They were Raz’s friends, partners who had helped him face down his familial foe. Without them, the circumstances might have been different. In the years Raz spent with them, he, too, had dozens of tales to tell about them. Missions, pranks, movie nights, it was as if they had scooped Raz into their arms, carting him off like their own little brother. In the time he was apart from Raz, and Raz came home revealing something new he had learned from one of them, the joy on his face was undeniable. Stars practically twinkled in his eyes, and Dion had to admit the plethora of twisting emotions, seeing Raz grow and learn sometimes without him, jabbed at his sides.

But they cared about Raz. Despite Dion’s own uncertainties, it was more than obvious they treasured him. He was the world’s youngest Psychonaut, along with being their trusted colleague and friend.

They wouldn’t have worked so tirelessly to free Raz if they were dismissive. And as Dion watched Hollis swipe a tissue to quickly brush at her eyes, he thought his legs would give out.

If she was experiencing identical anguish as the Aquatos, acknowledging the deep-seated grief stewing within Dion, then he blurted a command that the Dion of yesterday never would have considered.

“Mom, I think you should take her up on this.”

Donatella stared at him like he had split his head open, and blood gushed down his face. Even his siblings gawked. It didn’t take a psychic to perceive the look of complete incredulity crossing Queepie’s countenance to realize he was thinking, Who replaced Dion with a look-a-like?

“It-it might be better if you do,” he hastily added, “because, uh, because it’ll clear the air.”

She swallowed hard. She regarded Dion like a stranger. “I thought you would’ve been on my side.”

His blood froze over. Ice in his veins, Dion couldn’t break from her softened, surprised stare. He may as well have told his mother she was wrong.

But Frazie took to his side. She didn’t gaze at Dion. Rather, her tone took on their shared strength.

“Mom, it’d be better if you talked to Hollis one-on-one.”

Donatella hesitated. She held her breath. Although Hollis offered her another tissue, she remained as stationary as a rusted, marble statue on a paltry foundation. She kept her hands to her chest, and clear tears slithered down her marred cheeks.

Dion’s heart hammered. It ricocheted between his ribs, threatening to break every single one. Tensing his knees, he ordered himself to remain upright. He couldn’t turn to Frazie, but no psychic connection was needed to affirm where they stood.

Their mother huffed. She cradled her head. And a semblance of peace returned.

“Oh, fine, fine. I know when you two are united, there’s no point in arguing.”

She stomped down the hall, her brisk pace prompting Hollis to follow. Without a parting word or a promise of when she would return, Donatella vanished around the rounded corner, Hollis in tow.

Dion dropped his head. His entire body slumped forward. Frazie’s hold on his collar prevented him from falling over outright. Hearing her snicker, he snorted at whatever amusement she derived from his exhaustion.

Before he could remark on anything, Lili snatched the shrinkwrapped sandwiches left in a heap on the floor. “You guys seriously didn’t eat the food I brought? They definitely aren’t as fresh now,” she grumbled, telekinetically shoving them in each Aquato’s hand. “Come on, eat them. I know you guys haven’t had anything.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Queepie muttered, tearing his open with Mirtala. “Ew. There’s some weird sauce in here.”

“It’s called aioli.”

“That does not look like aioli. It’s too green.”

“Then, some relish got in it! Sheesh, Queepie, it’s a club sandwich.”

Sticking his tongue out at Lili, Queepie gasped when Mirtala lightly kicked his shin. He looked ready to kick her back when Dion eyed him. He scoffed and shoved the sandwich into his mouth, ignoring Mirtala’s perfectly innocent air.

“Think those two are gonna be okay?’ Gisu wondered as Dion fiddled with his shrinkwrap.

“Well, they haven’t shouted in thirty seconds. I’d say things are going better than we hoped,” Lizzie sneered.

Norma checked her watch. “Almost a minute, now. Still no screaming.”

Dion scoffed through his first bite, only for his eyes to widen. The taste of dry turkey, watery tomatoes, and excessive mayonnaise was like fine dining from a master chef. Foregoing any food made an average sandwich a meal fit for a king. But while Frazie grinned, Dion simply turned his head, trying to eat as casually as possible.

Lili cracked her jaw, reminiscent of Lizzie. She peered at the agents, saying nothing verbally, but he could tell telepathy was in play. He had seen Raz concentrating when they were in their beds, gazing at nothing in particular, while being immersed in a conversation with someone far away. She wore the same look, along with the other agents, but what she suggested had him struggling to swallow the next bite.

“Maybe…we should get out of here, too.” “Wh-? Just leave?” He swatted at his chest and gulped hard. “What if something happens?”

“My dad will tell me, and I’ll tell you. He promised if there were any updates, I’d be the first to know.”

“Yeah? Can we tru-?” He stopped himself, dismissing the budding accusation. If the Grand Head was anything like his subordinate, then Dion supposed he deserved the same respect. “Uh, forget it Forget I said anything.”

Lili stretched, lacing her fingers above her head and standing on her tiptoes. Dion had seen Raz elongate his spine in the same way. Although a common gesture, he couldn’t help but wonder if Lili had picked up that trait from Raz.

When her back popped, she sighed and crossed her arms. “I get it. Sitting and waiting, it’s really hard, especially when there’s nothing you can do-” Her gaze swept across the munching Aquatos. “-except take care of ourselves.”

Adam ruffled her hair, and she quickly brushed aside his hand. “You phrased it perfectly, Lili. Better than I could.”

“Can we go?” Mirtala asked abruptly to her older siblings. It was unlike her to ask for permission, in most cases. She was the kind of girl who tended to move to her own rhythm.

Queepie didn’t need permission to do anything. It was a trait Dion found more than irritable when he ran off from chores. He was already with the agents, as if expecting Dion and Frazie would comply.

Frazie stared at Lili, their thoughts uniquely private. Then, an almost resigned air, she said, “Some fresh air might be good. It’ll be better to leave Mom alone while she’s with Hollis, too.”

Dion said nothing. He showed his palms and walked in the rear. Frazie joined him, shoulder to shoulder. Watching Queepie speak with Morris, and Mirtala clinging to Lili while Sam tried prying her off, Dion supposed they were the outliers. They hadn’t technically agreed; they were following the group. If Dion was a gambling man, then he would have put all of his chips in by insisting Frazie, like himself, would have rather stayed with Raz.

But she grinned at him, flanked by Norma. “Holding up?” “Hardly,” he said, taking comfort in how Gisu slipped into his shadow. “I bet if we leave, something’s gonna happen.” “Come on, Dion. We’ve waited for over a day. What could possibly happen when we’re gone?”

And although Frazie flashed him a lopsided smile, Dion smothered his trepidation, clinging to the hopeful strand that a peaceful resolution would ensue, even if he still wanted nothing more than to punch Bobby Zilch’s lights out.

#bobby's b-movie #dion #frazie #lili #adam #lizzie #norma #sam #morris #gisu #hollis #donatella #mirtala #queepie #i definitely want to save the donatella and hollis part but it'll mostly be referenced like them talking cordially off to the side #by themselves (or with a few of the younger agents and aquatos around)#i guess this is like a pseudo b-movie update because...i still kinda of like the premise! the younger agents and aquatos having this tiff #but it comes off really sluggishly here compared to the snippets of action that we saw from them earlier #by that i mean when the aquatos finally have enough of waiting and watching as raz remains stiff and silent and in pain #actions speak louder than words! and that felt the most representative with lili and truman deciding do to what they can for the aquatos #in a prior chapter like lili going off to get them food so it's gonna be smaller scale little slices of tenuous but preserved peace #while the senior agents work on that contraption #i am glad i have this update out because watching dead meat yesterday while feeling like i was sloughing through augustus' section had me #do a double take for the entire chapter with how sudden and contrasting and bloated it is without adding any actual substance #(well there is SOME substance and understanding but it comes off as very clunky)#also i was really hesitant with the comparison of 'bobby and nona' because it felt incredibly on the nose #it also didn't feel right in a way? similar yes but i don't know! just a weird feeling i had when writing that part as it felt like it #lost any kind of subtlety and just made me really hesitant to keep going with that train of thought #especially so far in the story that cramming in all these pov sections felt really last minute too

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certaimromance · 2 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler

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