#and because derek is derek he absorbs this information as well

[jupitermelichios]

while everyone is sad and in need of non-terrible sterek content, here's a minor headcanon I'm probably never going to get around to using in anything:

derek is a massive halo nerd, but hates all video games basically universally. he picked up one of the novels because he knows stiles likes the games, and he wanted to be able to contribute during stiles's periodic gamer info-dumps, but then got weirdly invested in the lore and now knows way more about the universe than any reasonable person should

stiles thinks this is adorable, obviously, but also hilarious, and spends a lot of times scheming ways to trick their friends into accidentally saying something that will activate derek's halo-heresy senses and trigger an angry rant. his crowning achievement was getting scott to read the drill 'masterchief's suit jacks him off' tweet out loud verbatim in derek's presence. neither of them have forgiven him for it, and he does not care because it was the funniest shit he's ever seen.

he's also started leaving 40k novels lying around derek's apartment. to date he has not taken the bait, but they both know it's only a matter of time before he caves.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @rosieathena - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

She’s In Love With You, Man

That particular morning was no different to any other. The sun was shining but there was a chill in the air, and Spencer arrived at work in the same way, at the same time as he did every other day. Even the frown on his face would have been considered normal, he often lost himself deep in thought and couldnt control the furrowing of his eyebrows. However, the determined strides Spencer took towards his good friend and coworker Derek Morgan, were a little out of sorts, and when he parted his lips and spoke, his friend knew this was not like any other day at all.

“Derek, how do I know if a girl likes me?”

Spencer asked, an innocent but firm question with so much weight and importance to the young genius. The weight had previously forced his gaze to the ground, but he lifted his eyes to observe the response, needing to absorb as much information as possible. To Spencer, this was essentially life or death, even if that saying was a little dramatic.

Derek dropped the folder that he was previously examining, it slapped the table as it fell, but he didnt seem to notice. His eyebrows had raised in shock and curiosity, and the small smile playing on his lips hinted at a sense of pride, Spencer deduced.

“Well, first of all, who’s the girl!?!”

It wasnt often that Spencer arrived at other people’s homes unannounced when he wasnt working, but JJ had accidentally left some important documents on her desk that she was planning to look over. She had left work in a rush, exclaiming that she had somebody waiting for her, and Spencer thought it best to deliver the documents to her as soon as he could. In his defence, he did try to call her, but she must have been on the phone to someone else, so he wasnt deliberately showing up unannounced. He knocked at her door feeling the awkwardness of this interaction consuming him in advance. JJ answered, much to Spencer’s relief, and upon seeing the folders in his hand JJ sighed with relief and ushered him inside.

“Thank you so much Spence, I was just looking for those! I had to get home quick, had an interview.”

Alarm bells rang in Spencer’s head “An interview? Are you leaving the BAU?” He tried to respectfully hide his sadness.

JJ laughed and shook her head “I wasnt the one being interviewed! C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

This only made the entire situation more uncomfortable for Spencer, but he couldnt deny his own intrigue as his mind raced with potential conclusions as JJ led him through to the living room. Perhaps she was interviewing someone to join the team, or Hotch had asked her to interview a coworker he didnt trust, or-wait-didnt she mention last week that she needed a-

“Spencer, I’d like you to meet Henry’s new babysitter: (Y/N)!”

Derek spoke up again, noticing Spencer had zoned out at his question.

“Kid, who is she?”

Spencer shook his head to regain concentration on the conversation “Henry’s babysitter.”

Derek’s eyes widened, a wide smile overtaking his features “Oh my god, you have a crush on a babysitter!?! Tell me everything, right now!”

Beautiful. That was the first word that came to Spencer’s mind as he saw you sitting on the floor laughing with little Henry, who was running circles around you while you pretended to be an immobile monster trying to reach out and grab him. The smile on your face, the sound of your laughter, the fact that you hadnt yet clocked Spencer’s presence because you were so focussed on entertaining Henry - could you have made yourself appear any more perfect? It took Henry running up to Spencer and hugging his leg for you to acknowledge he’d entered the room, your eyes following the little boy and then trailing up to Spencer’s face and beaming up at him.

“Hi! Im (Y/N)! And judging by Henry’s immediate attachment to you, I’ll take a wild guess that you are the smart man Spencer who I’ve already heard so much about!”

He was struggling to find the words to speak, and even though his flustered state was well hidden and barely lasted more than a second, JJ noticed.

“Have you been talking about me, little man?” Spencer asked Henry, ruffling his hair endearingly before meeting your eyes again. “You guess correct! It’s nice to meet you.”

He reached out his hand to you, lowering himself because you were still sitting on the floor, and your smile widened as you leaned forward to shake his hand.

“We met when I delivered those documents to JJ’s door exactly three weeks and a day ago.” Spencer told Derek as he thought back to the first time he saw your face.

“And? What’s she like!?!“ Derek encouraged, desperate to draw out some more information from his friend about this mystery girl.

“Wonderful.” Spencer said simply, his eyes drifting back to a daydream.

“C’mon kid, you’ve gotta give me more than that!” Derek exclaimed, taking a mental note of the affect you have on Spencer just when he talked about you.

He met his friend’s eyes again and frowned in confusion. “What more can I say than every aspect of her existence is wonderful?”

It was blindingly obvious to JJ that you and Spencer had already clicked somehow, and although this was completely unplanned, she was always ready to play matchmaker for her good friend. Admittedly, she didnt know you very well. The two of you had spoken over the phone a few times before arranging an interview regarding the position as Henry’s babysitter, and you had spoken to Will too, of course. The extent of JJ’s conversations with you was enough to convince her you were perfect for the job, and this only became more apparent when she met you in person. This was all explained to Spencer very quickly when JJ dragged him to the kitchen to unload as much information about you as she could.

“So, do you like her?”

“It’s too early to tell realistically, but based on what I’ve already experienced...” Spencer couldnt help glancing at the doorway and smiling at the sound of your laugh from within the living room.

“Oh my gosh! This is great!” JJ clasped her hands excitedly, going quiet as she conjured up a plan, setting Spencer on edge. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do! Stay for dinner! Start coming over for dinner every week on this day, and act like it’s something we’ve always done because we’re good friends! (Y/N) is babysitting Henry every weekday from 7:30am-5pm officially, but she’s considerate of my work hours and sometimes she’ll stay for dinner with us and just hang out. So, you can stay for dinner as an excuse to spend time with her!”

Spencer’s head was spinning, he didnt know what to say, but JJ didnt need a response, she’d already decided that he had agreed. He was somewhat glad of that.

“You’ve seen her once a week for three weeks and havent told me!?!” Derek sounded offended. Sure, he often spoke of his adventures with women, but they were never as innocent as Spencer’s experiences with you.

“I’ve seen her more than that. Every Thursday I’ve stayed for dinner, but on particular days in between - such as Monday and Wednesday on the second week, then this week on Tuesday and today - JJ has found an excuse for me to come over. Sometimes it’s to ‘help with a case’, sometimes she deliberately leaves one of her belongings on her desk for me to find and bring to her house.”

“Damn, JJ’s been doing some real matchmaking! How has (Y/N) reacted every time you’ve showed up?”

That smile. Spencer could never recover from it. You smiled a lot, you were a smiley person, and every smile was undoubtedly beautiful, but the smile you gave him? That was different. You lit up the moment he walked into a room. You were always happy to talk to him about anything and everything, but your focus never strayed from Henry, which Spencer admired so much more than you realised. He had seen you that day, and when you walked into the room holding Henry’s hand, you gasped.

“Look Henry! It’s our best friend!”

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat at that. The two of you had been getting increasingly more flirtatious with every occasion you saw each other. And in the middle of dinner, when Henry ran to you with a drawing in his hand, you blushed at the sight of it and said:

“Oh wow Henry, that’s amazing! Go show Spencer!”

The little boy ran to Spencer to show him, and he saw exactly why you’d blushed. Henry had drawn two stick people, which he realised were himself and you, getting married.

“Henry! How did you know what I’ve been dreaming about!?!” Spencer winked at you from across the table, Henry and JJ laughing while you bashfully pretended to blow Spencer a kiss.

“She’s in love with you, man.”

This was the first time Derek has referred to Spencer as a man rather than a kid. Although he didnt use ‘kid’ in a patronising way, Spencer found that it instilled him with newfound confidence to know that the relationship he was forming with you had shown Derek that he actually has some game. The weight of Derek’s statement suddenly hit the curly haired vessel of knowledge, and he felt himself shiver.

“How can you be so sure?”

Spencer expected a comically backhanded compliment in response to his question, but that is far from what he got.

“You’re a man of facts, you would never be so open about falling for someone unless some part of you, even if it’s subconscious, knows she likes you back and there’s a chance of it working between you.”

Spencer thought about this, and he couldnt help but agree.

“What do I do?” The genius asked cluelessly.

Derek rolled his eyes playfully, as if the answer was obvious. “Ask her out man!”

Spencer continued his clueless plea. “How do I do that!?!”

Derek sighed pleasantly. “From what you’ve said, she likes you exactly as you are, so you wont need any extravagant plan to win her over. Just be yourself.”

As blissful as it was to think that you liked Spencer exactly as he was, hearing this didnt help him in terms of confidence towards how to ask you out.

It was then, the office doors swung open, and there you stood, holding Henry on your hip, him clutching a lunchbox in his hands.

“Mommy forgot her lunch!” You chuckled, placing Henry on the floor and letting him run to JJ, who had just walked out of Penelope’s office.

You wandered over to Spencer, and Derek pretended to be distracted by the folder he had just picked back up, he walked away from you as though truly focussed on what he was reading.

“Hey Spencer! How are you-“

“WouldYouLikeToGoOnADateWithMe?” Spencer blurted out, cutting off your attempt at small talk.

“What?” You asked, unable to understand what he’d said.

Spencer sighed and hung his head, his moment of confidence gone.

“Would you...like to go on a date...with me?”

He waited for your reply, but he heard nothing, and his heart sank. With a final shred of hope, Spencer lifted his head to meet your gaze, and then he saw that smile, just for a second before you parted your lips.

“Yes.”

[takaraphoenix]

Colds and Comfort

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, sick fic, hurt/comfort, fluff, Pack Alpha Peter

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent

@writersmonth Prompts: sense + bus

Summary: Stiles is sick. Stiles is also used to taking care of himself. So when both Chris and Peter come running to take care of him after hearing he's sick, he doesn't really get it, until they spell it out for him.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

Colds and Comfort

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

There was an obnoxious buzzing next to his head, tearing him out of a fitful sleep. He groaned as he reached out with too much effort. His joints ached, making every move feel exhausting. Grabbing his phone, he unlocked it to see who was so excessively texting him.

From Zombiewolf [10:14]: You're late, darling. This will be loaded over you

From Zombiewolf [10:29]: Stiles I need you to let me know you're alright

From Zombiewolf [10:33]: Stiles. Answer your phone

From Silver Fox [10:35]: Peter is trying to reach you. Tell me you're ignoring him because he's annoying and we're all good, but if you don't answer either of us in ten minutes, we'll come over

Stiles blinked sluggishly at the texts and then started typing himself. Slow and taking far too long for his brain to formulate words. It felt like someone had stuffed his head with cotton.

From Little Red [10:37]: Sorry. Not coming over. Sick

Heaving an exhausted sigh, he dropped his phone back onto the mattress and collapsed down next to it, arms spread. It had started yesterday, on the bus. Actually, he was pretty sure he got it on the bus. The Jeep had been in the shop for the past week, after the latest monster of the week had attacked them and he'd hit it with the Jeep. Saving Erica in the process but also severely hurting Roscoe. So for the past week, Stiles had to take the bus. Too many people crammed together, and during this season at that! Yesterday though, on the drive back, he'd first had this sense of unease in his stomach, not quite nausea but close enough. He'd known, he was getting sick. And this morning, Saturday morning who got sick on a Saturday that was just cruel, he couldn't even get out of bed. Even though his alarm had been ringing since nine and he'd been eager for it too.

He was supposed to go to Peter and Chris' place, it was Saturday. Every Saturday morning, for about two months now, he'd been going to their place to work on the bestiary with Peter. Chris would go out and buy them breakfast and coffee and they'd eat together and then Peter and him would work quietly side by side together. It was the highlight of Stiles' week, which was a bit pathetic for a teenager, he supposed, but oh well what else was new.

Ever since the Alpha Pack, the Darach, the way Derek had given up his Alpha powers to save his sister, Scott had turned into a True Alpha and Peter had killed one of the Alpha Pack members to regain his Alpha powers, it had started to feel more pressing to gather information. So, Stiles and Peter had started compiling the Hale bestiary and the Argent bestiary and buying a lot of rare, shiny books online (because Peter had money and Peter spent that money on knowledge that Stiles loved to absorb and if he didn't know that Peter and Chris were happily mated and there was also just generally no way Peter would go for Stiles, of all people, Stiles would feel courted by this).

Groaning, Stiles rolled over with a glare. Saturday, of all days. Couldn't he have gotten sick tomorrow? He wanted to be in Peter and Chris' place, with them both, indulge in his stupid, pathetic little crush on the hot couple. These few hours every week, they felt so painfully domestic and Stiles could pretend, for just a little while, that he was a part of this, of them.

Enough self-pity and misery. He needed to drink something. His water-bottle was empty and staying hydrated was important. However, it also required him to get up. Groaning again, for entirely different reasons this time, he attempted to get up. And gave up after a couple moments, collapsing back onto his bed. Okay. No drinks or food for Stiles, then. That was okay.

His stomach rumbled. Because he hadn't eaten since lunch at school yesterday. He'd been so exhausted yesterday evening when he got home, he kind of just went to bed.

"Oh, sweetheart. You look wrecked. And not the fun kind."

Blinking sluggishly, Stiles looked up at what so clearly were fever hallucinations. Peter and Chris, standing in his bedroom, with concerned frowns on their faces. How were these men that handsome. Offering a lazy smile, Stiles rolled onto his side to more comfortably look up at them. How many of his wet dreams started off with them randomly in his room…? Too many.

"Wait," Stiles frowned. "I texted you. I did hit send, right? You didn't rush over here for nothing because you thought something happened to me, right? I sent the text?"

"If you mean the one telling us you're sick, then yes," Chris sighed.

"Okay, good," Stiles nodded pleased, before he paused again. "Then why are you here?"

Unless they indeed were fever hallucinations. The probability of that kept growing. Peter was crouched down in front of the bed, pressing a hand to Stiles' clammy forehead and then growling darkly, displeased. He even flashed his eyes red and that was just unfair. The Alpha eyes did things to Stiles, it should absolutely be forbidden for Peter to put them on display in Stiles' bedroom, that would only confuse him even more. And he was overall very confused right now. Mind messy.

"We decided to bring you soup," Chris supplied, lifting up a bag. "Where's your father?"

Soup from the fancy restaurant where Chris and Peter usually went for their date nights because did Stiles already mention that Peter was filthy rich? Stiles couldn't even afford, well, the soup actually. One time, when he'd still tried to date Lydia, he had taken her there and spent two months' worth of allowance on two salads. Man, was he glad he got over Lydia, he could not afford to date her. Well, not that 'moving on' had worked well in his favor, considering he'd hopelessly fallen in love with two men more than twice his age who were in a happy relationship.

"Focus, sweetheart," Peter snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Where's your father?"

Right. He'd been asked a question. Blinking repeatedly and slowly, he turned to look at them.

"Silver Lake," Stiles answered after a moment, confused by the question. "They're having kind of a situation and asked for back-up, dad and a bunch of the deputies went there on Thursday, he'll probably be back by Tuesday or something? I don't know. Why?"

"Why," Peter repeated mockingly, glaring at him. "Because you have a fever, Stiles."

"Yupp," Stiles nodded. "How's those two related?"

The wolf growled and flashed these far too sexy Alpha eyes again. If asked later, Stiles would blame the fever, sluggishness and fact that he hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours on his reaction, but he fully, instinctively whimpered and bared his throat to his Alpha. Peter gave the most pleased growl at that, resting a hand on Chris' shoulder, for some reason.

"You're sick, doll," Chris sighed and came to sit down on the edge of Stiles' bed. "Who's taking care of you, if your father is out of town? Will Melissa be by?"

Stiles frowned at Chris confused and then pointed at himself. "Me. I take care of me. Always have."

"Stiles-" Peter made a frustrated and near angry noise.

"I fully don't get what is going on with him," Stiles now pointed at Peter.

"Stiles…" Chris looked so troubled. "You look absolutely miserable, how do you expect to take care of yourself with a fever…? We did see your attempt at getting up, and the way you went down again. You couldn't even concentrate on a simple question earlier."

"And have you eaten anything at all today?" Peter tagged on with a judgmental glare.

"Fuck you," Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha, growing irritated. "I don't need you to come here and judge me. I'm not a little kid. I've been taking care of myself and my dad and this whole damn household since I was ten. This isn't the first time I have a fever, I know how to get through it."

Chris sighed once more, but it was a sad sound. He reached out and ran his fingers through Stiles' hair in a way that made him feel like mush. Main reason why he had grown it out. The idea of someone running their fingers through it, or tugging during – No. Nope, not having naughty thoughts while an Alpha werewolf was in his bedroom, absolutely not.

"It's not about your capabilities, doll," the nickname never failed to send a thrill through Stiles. "It's about the fact that you shouldn't have to take care of everyone, and everything."

"Yes," Peter hissed. "You take care of both packs, support us with research, you're ready to help the betas, you come over to our place to help me with the bestiary every week, you do so much. I'm not trying to patronize you, I'm angry that when you need someone, nobody is taking care of you."

...Oh. Well, Stiles had no clue what to do with that. So, instead of reacting to their words, he just curled together small on his bed. Feeling oddly vulnerable now.

"It's not their fault," Stiles sighed. "I'm pretty sure if they knew, Allison and Scotty would be here in an instant. Heck, as useless in the kitchen as she is, Erica would attempt to make me soup, maybe Cora would help her, which would only make this more dangerous. And Boyd and Isaac would be battling my bed to change my sheets. Jackson would act annoyed but he'd still sit by my bedside, the emotionally constipated asshole. Kira would actually commandeer the kitchen and Malia would be dragging something she hunted in here, to make me 'feel better'. And Lydia would fully take charge of the entire household. Derek would probably stand right there in the corner, arms crossed, glaring like he's trying to glare my cold into submission. The twins would probably try to help too."

Stiles snorted softly, a fond smile on his lips as he thought about the two packs. He loved all of them dearly, the Hale Pack as much as the McCall Pack. And even though the two packs still edged on at times – Scott and Jackson had always been rivals and that did not get better when Jackson joined the Hale Pack after the bite took, while Allison and Erica also never saw eye to eye, both Erica and Boyd still hadn't forgiven her for hunting them like animals and shooting them and honestly Stiles fully understood that, even if he loved Ally some fiercely, they didn't owe her forgiveness, and similarly, Boyd, Erica and Cora were still wary of Ethan and Aiden for their part in their captivity, even though the twins had turned on the Alpha Pack and helped in the end – Stiles knew that both packs would be crammed into the house together if it was about him.

"Then why aren't they here?" Peter asked, voice sharp.

And oh no, he was so going to give his betas a scolding if Stiles didn't give a good reply. Stiles heaved a sigh of his own, not looking at either of the two. Uncomfortable with this conversation.

"I don't…" Stiles struggled with the words. "I don't need help, I know how to take care of this myself, have done so for years, so why should I bother others with it. They don't need to know, they don't need to fuss, I'll be fine on my own. I always am."

"You shouldn't have to, doll," Chris' face looked pained, his fingers still running through Stiles' hair. "I… I do get that you're very strong, we know that. And that you're used to not asking for help because for too many years, you didn't have help, but… things are different now."

"Pack takes care of pack," Peter growled, not threatening, just… softly growling.

"Please don't tell them," Stiles turned pleading eyes on him. "I really don't want to ruin their weekend and I absolutely can not handle having ten werewolves, a coyote, a kitsune, a Banshee and two hunters in this house, at the same time. I am so not feeling well enough to deal with that. Also, I am not sure if everyone would even physically fit into this house…"

He blinked dazed as he tried to imagine it. Felt like the home equivalent to an overcrowded elevator. He startled when Peter and Chris got up. And even though he'd just said he didn't need anyone to take care of him or help him, there was a weird ache in his chest at the thought of them leaving again. Right. He could take care of himself, always had, always would.

"Christopher-" Peter started, picking the soup container up from the floor.

"On it, love," Chris leaned in to press a kiss to Peter's cheek. "You take care of the food."

Huh? Stiles blinked confused. Wait. What was happening now? Chris grabbed Stiles' pillow and pulled the casing off and no really, what was happening here.

"What… are you doing?" Stiles asked while Chris stripped the blanket.

"The most specific thing you listed was changing your bedsheets," Chris pointed out. "I'm taking that as something you would really like to happen now."

"Well," Stiles tilted his head, feeling sheepish. "I've been so busy, I've been so busy I kinda hadn't gotten around to changing the bedding to my winter bedding yet. So. That's still the thin summer bedding. And I'm… I'm fucking freezing… Yeah."

Chris grunted and continued, sorting the bedding. Then, he turned to give him a look. Like he was waiting for something. Stiles frowned and looked around. No, Chris got everything on the bed.

"The mattress, Stiles," Chris sighed. "I can hardly strip the mattress while you're sitting on it."

"Ri—ight," Stiles nodded and made another attempt at getting up.

His knees were made of actual jello though, and sitting upright made a wave of dizziness and nausea overcome him in a manner that had him whimpering when he went back down.

"What was that noise," Peter called from downstairs.

"Dizzy," Stiles replied softly. "I'm making your mate's self-given task of changing my bed much harder by being unable to get out of said bed."

Chris huffed out a chuckle as he approached Stiles and then curled an arm around Stiles' back and reached the other under his legs, picking him up like he weighted nothing and damn it. Damn it all to hell. Was it not enough that Stiles had a major kink for werewolf strength and the thought of Peter manhandling him, did Chris have to prove what a Manly Man he was like that? Stiles squeaked high-pitched and wrapped his arms around Chris' neck, clinging onto him.

"...And what was that noise?" Peter sounded curious.

"Your mate has no manners and decided to manhandle me out of my bed!" Stiles yelped indignantly. "I am not a pretty princess, Christopher, unhand me!"

"Not a pretty princess," Chris agreed, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Pretty prince?"

Oh, the fever was getting to him. He was hearing things. Closing his eyes, Stiles gave up and allowed Chris to carry him wherever the hunter wanted him. Chris could take him anywhere. Innuendo intended. And no, he wasn't even feeling guilty about these thoughts, not when those two broke into his house for the sole purpose of taking care of him. How was a guy supposed to handle his long-time crushes doing something like that.

"...Where are you bringing me?" Stiles asked suspiciously.

"You are sweat-soaked, doll," Chris frowned at him concerned. "Peter, if you have a moment?"

A second later, the wolf was right in front of them, looking at Chris curiously. "The soup is simmering, I put on tea. What do you need, darling?"

"This one needs a bath," Chris lifted Stiles a little higher for emphasis, like Peter didn't know who he was talking about. "Would you start drawing him a bath while I help him undress?"

A wicked grin spread over the wolf's lips and his eyes flashed red and what. Why. Stiles frowned. Was this some wolf-instinct thing of being happy to help out a pack-mate? Gently, Chris put Stiles down on the toilet seat and then pulled his shirt off first. So Stiles had spent a lot of time thinking about Chris undressing him but this was… not how that went in his fantasies. He sighed softly.

"No," Stiles' voice was sharp and his hand grabbed Chris' wrist tightly when he went for the boxers. "Absolutely not. I'm not getting naked in front of you guys. Out."

There was still some semblance of dignity that he wanted to cling onto. Chris nodded and left the room, together with Peter, once the bath was drawn, though Peter lingered in the door.

"We will leave this door open and if I hear anything that sounds like you drowning because you fell asleep in the bath, we are coming back in here," Peter warned him.

Stiles hummed his agreement as he went for the bath, movement sluggish and every step forced, but he was absolutely not letting them get him fully naked and worse yet, carry him naked to the bathtub. He would in fact rather drown in that bath than let that happen.

/break\

It took a bit to find where Stiles kept his winter bedding, and then to figure out how the Stilinski washing machine worked, but in the end, Chris was getting good work done. He raised a judgmental eyebrow when his lover entered the house, looking winded.

"...Did you really run back to our place to get our clothes?"

Peter growled though he looked embarrassed. "Shut up, Christopher, you don't understand werewolf instincts. Our mate is sick and miserable and while I, rationally, know that it's just a cold and he will be fine, my… my wolf doesn't, he just sees our boy is in pain."

Smiling softly, Chris curled his hand around the back of Peter's neck, pulling him close enough to kiss. He may not have the wolf instincts, but he understood the worry. When Stiles hadn't replied to Peter's texts this morning, Chris' mind was buzzing with horror scenarios. They lived dangerous lives, any kind of threat could have invaded, gone after Stiles, hurt him in various horrible ways. The relief that had flooded him when Stiles replied, telling them he was sick, had been intense.

"And we're here taking care of him," Chris whispered. "Go, bring him the clothes."

The wolf wanted their boy to smell like them. Chris wasn't really going to argue that, he'd love to see Stiles in his hoodie, wearing his clothes, being his. Shaking his head, Chris returned his attention to the laundry, ready to get their boy into a warm, cozy bed. It had been getting colder for weeks now and part of Chris was concerned that Stiles had still been sleeping in his summer bedding but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. Stiles took care of others, prioritized them so much, he often forgot himself. Chris heaved a sigh.

"You are ridiculous, Creeperwolf."

Chris' lips quirked into a smile as he got to watch his wolf carry their boy into the bedroom. Stiles was wearing Peter's sweat-pants, one of Peter's shirts and on top of it, Chris' hoodie. Sufficiently covered in both their scents, Chris hoped. A cute glare was on Stiles' face, half-hearted at best.

"I do have clothes," Stiles pointed out, as he was put down onto the mattress. "Clothes that fit."

For emphasis, he pulled on the hoodie, large enough to slip off one of his shoulders, revealing the pale span of his neck and shoulder. Peter's eyes were dark with lust and Chris knew it took the Alpha everything he had not to latch himself onto that neck. Chris was struggling himself.

"Indulge the wolf in the room," Chris requested amused.

Stiles rolled his eyes exasperated. "Oh, like half my closet isn't other people's clothes at this point because the packs keep leaving their stuff here in a very unsubtle manner. Is this about me being human, or me being in both packs? That you guys are competing for who makes me smell more like their pack? I swear, half the school thinks that the Lacrosse team is my personal harem by now."

Chris choked on a laugh at the face Stiles made, even as he felt jealousy twist his stomach at the idea of anyone thinking Stiles belonged to someone aside from Chris and Peter. Peter growled.

"I'll go and get the soup and tea," Peter left the room.

Jealous, possessive wolf. Truly, it was beyond Chris how someone as clever as Stiles hadn't figured out that Peter was deeply in love with him and willing to do anything for him. It was ironic, Chris had accepted this and ignored it for a while, after Peter told him – Peter had always been honest about his feelings, never kept them a secret from Chris (not that Chris hadn't figured those out himself, but he did appreciate the honesty). Yet the longer he was dating Peter, and thus getting more personally involved in the pack business, the better he got to know Stiles, the more he fell for the sarcastic, snarky, gorgeous brat. What can he say, he had a type when it came to guys.

"Thank you," Stiles looked up at Chris, wrapping the blanket around himself. "This is… so much better. And the bath helped too. You guys didn't have to…"

"We did have to, doll," Chris sat down next to Stiles on the bed. "But we wanted to. You deserve to be taken care of too, Stiles. You always take care of everyone, whatever they need."

"But it's not your job to take care of me," Stiles sounded uncharacteristically small.

He pulled the blankets even tighter, making himself look all the smaller. Chris frowned. He didn't like that, he liked his boy loud and brash, never backing down even in the face of danger and threats. It really did make him want to protect Stiles all the more fiercely to see him like this.

"Maybe we want it to be our job, doll."

Stiles tilted his head to frown up at him with a twisted expression on his face. "Listen, I know you're a great dad and all but I am not in the business for another dad. Really not."

Peter laughed in the doorway. "Oh, there's a Daddy Kink joke in there that I'm dying to make."

"Then go and die," Chris commented dryly, glaring at Peter.

Peter laughed even louder and stole a kiss before placing the tray with tea and soup in front of Stiles. Then, the wolf took a place on Stiles' other side, sandwiching the boy between them. Stiles grabbed his soup and started eating, but he also kept trowing wary looks at Peter and Chris. Neither of them indulged him though. If he wanted something, he'd have to say it.

"Why are you doing this, then?" Stiles asked once he finished his soup. "I just…"

"Is it that hard for you to believe that others care for you to the degree of wanting to take care of you, Bambi?" Peter heaved a sigh, brushing Stiles' hair back.

"Yeah," Stiles frowned up at him. "I've been taking care of my dad since mom died. He's trying his best, he really is, but he was never the… nurturing type, that was… mom's. And before two werewolf packs stumbled into my life, it was always kind of just me and Scott? I've been taking care of Scott since we first met, when he got bullied on the playground. I'm still getting used to having people care about me, so yeah. Yeah, this is hard to believe."

Peter whined at that, an honest whine. Usually, Peter had more dignity than that, he controlled his instincts better than that. But hearing their boy say things like that? Chris wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist, pulling him as close as possible. Peter followed from the other side, nuzzling against Stiles. A soft, pleased sigh escaped Stiles, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"You're warm," Stiles mumbled happily. "I'm still feeling so cold."

"We'll keep you warm then, sweetheart," Peter smiled. "And we do. We care so much about you."

"I'm not doing any of this out of paternal instincts," Chris grunted and made a face. "Believe me, doll, paternal instincts are the farthest from my mind when it comes to you."

"What… does that even mean," Stiles blinked confused.

"Nothing you need to concern your pretty little head with just now, Bambi," Peter smiled, patting Stiles on the head. "Rest, now. Get better. We'll talk once you're more clear-minded."

"Mh…" Stiles closed his eyes again, snuggling in between them. "Why… do you call me that? Bambi? Is it because of my flailing, like Bambi on the lake? Or because I'm the weakest member of the pack, the 'baby deer' that everyone has to worry about…?"

Peter snorted and shook his head. "Because you have the prettiest doe-eyes I have ever seen and they make my predator-instincts go wild, Bambi."

"...You wanna hunt me for sports?" Stiles frowned.

"I do want to eat you," Peter flashed his red eyes.

"You're very bad at waiting until our boy is feeling better," Chris commented.

Peter snorted and by the time they turned to their boy, Stiles was deep asleep.

/break\

Peter's wolf was contently purring as he woke up curled together with both his mates. Stiles did fit fantastically between himself and Christopher. Nuzzling against Stiles' back, Peter rubbed his nose along that pale, tempting neck. They were both laying half on top of Chris.

"Wait did you insinuate that you wanted to give me a blowjob?" Stiles squeaked as soon as he woke up, laying stiff between them. "Okay now that I said it out loud I can't tell if it's worse if you actually said it or if it was a fever hallucination and I just said that to your face."

"Blowjob, eating you out," Peter leaned over Stiles with a leer, liking his lips and showing some fang. "Anything you want, Bambi. As long as I get to ravish you, I'd be more than happy."

"Chris," Stiles yelped, slapping the hunter's chest. "Your boyfriend has lost his mind! Again!"

Chris grunted and sat up a little. He adjusted Stiles, who was still half on top of him, just grabbing him by the waist and pulling him fully into his lap. Stiles gave another endearing squeak and Peter followed the impulse to press a kiss to his cheek. A gasp escaped Stiles, those big, brown eyes widening even more, stirring Peter's predator-instincts. His.

"I'm fine watching him do either of those to you," Chris commented dryly. "Your choice, doll."

"Oh, my fever got really bad and I am having the hallucinations now," Stiles muttered.

"Your fever went down," Peter brushed Stiles' hair back, feeling his forehead. "You'll be fine."

"Then what is happening here," Stiles looked from one of them to the other.

"We meant to wait, until you're… well, until you're eighteen," Chris offered with a sigh. "But in the end, it doesn't matter, does it? We want you, now. Waiting is a pretense that's unnecessary, especially if you don't understand that someone would want to take care of you, because we want to take care of you in all manners, doll. Because we want you."

"I… have no idea how to compute that," Stiles admitted.

"That's okay," Peter smiled at him. "I've been in love with you for a long time, I'm fine waiting for you, Stiles. However long you need, you're worth waiting for."

Stiles turned away from the wolf, looking at Chris as though he expected anger or objection. Chris simply smiled and caressed Stiles' cheek, their boy nuzzling into the touch so softly. Peter sighed.

"I'm with Peter on this one," Chris chuckled. "You should be ours, we should get to take care of you. Share hot, soothing baths after long, cold nights out in the woods. Take you out to fancy dinners when you haven't had the chance to eat between research. Hold you while you sleep. Take you absolutely apart until your ever-working mind can find some rest."

A small, high noise came from Stiles and the scent of despair and arousal filling the air was so delicious, Peter had to hold back not to ravish their boy right her and now. He couldn't fight the growl though, the greedy and possessive growl. Stiles looked at him wondrously.

"Wait. The growling and eye-flashing isn't pack Alpha worry, holy shit, you're into me."

"Finally," Peter heaved a sigh. "You are my clever boy, and you really had me start doubting you. How did you not piece together all the painfully obvious clues I kept leaving behind because my wolf is too smitten with you to allow me full control when it comes to you?"

Stiles stared at them stunned. And then, with flushed cheeks, did he lean in, pressing the lightest kiss to Peter's lips and then to Chris' before settling back in on Chris' lap, closing his eyes.

"I'll do more napping now," Stiles declared with a yawn. "Thank you. For… taking care of me."

Peter smiled softly at their boy and then exchanged a warm look with Chris.

~*~ The End ~*~

[tin-wufborf]

It's my birthday today, so I want to share a happy Derek Hale headcanon! This post is gonna be super long (like, you need to set aside time to read it because I have too many feelings about Derek Hale), so I'm putting most of it under a cut to keep your dash cute. But after I tell you the short version of the headcanon so you can decide if you want to proceed:

I think the proudest moment of Derek's life is when he became a big brother to Cora, and that he would have excelled at being one for all of the girls in the pack if he'd been given a chance to do so.

I imagine that Derek had always idolized and adored Laura as his big sister, even when she was being a superior little shit to him because she was older than him, or forcing him to play dress-up with her (even if he secretly liked it a little bit because it was nice to be pretty sometimes). So when Talia announced that she was pregnant with Cora, little Derek took the idea of becoming an older sibling Very Fucking Seriously. I'm talking interviews with his mom and Laura for tips and insider information about being an older sibling, and following his mom and dad around to make sure they were getting everything Cora might need. He's only maybe 3-5 years older than her, so I imagine that he forced Peter to teach him how to read early so he could read all the parenting books he could get his hands on. For the books that were just too advanced, he would make Peter or his parents read them to him so he could absorb the information still and leave no stone unturned. I'll bet he questioned everything, asked a million why's just the whole way through. He probably knew more about babies than any of the adults in the pack, and he probably appointed himself the inspector for anything that was purchased for use for/by Cora leading up to her birth. Only the best for his baby sister, he'd make sure of it.

And when Cora was finally born, he was immediately fucking obsessed with her. It didn't matter what kind of mood she was in or what she was doing, whether she was fussy or wailing or happy or doing nothing at all, Derek was right there and ready. If there was something he could do to help her, he wouldn't hesitate to do it, but if it was something he was still too little to handle alone, he would immediately take off to run and get an adult. And he'd supervise that adult the whole time, just to make sure they didn't mess anything up.

He was probably inconsolable when he finally had to start going to school. Just so upset at the idea that he couldn't stay with Cora all day.

As they grew older together, he helped her with everything he physically and emotionally could help with. He was always very aware of his age/size limitations, so he learned very early how to use the adults around him like tools to assist in helping his little sister out. He probably helped potty train her, helped her learn how to walk and talk, was a champion at preventing her from falling or smashing her fingers in things, taught her how to tie her shoes, helped her figure out how to hold a spoon with or without claws, and he probably even taught her how to howl properly just in case she ever needed to contact them (him) in an emergency and he wasn't there for some reason (I imagine he does this while glaring at his mother because it's her fault that he has to go to stupid school instead of staying home where he can keep Cora safe at all times). Because of her constant exposure to him, Cora probably came to idolize Derek in much the same way that he idolized Laura, and there was nothing in the world he wouldn't say or do for the well-being of his baby sister. He was about that big brother life like you would not believe. Derek loved being a big brother, and as much as the loss of his entire family devastated him, it was the idea that he'd lost Cora that broke him the most.

So, I imagine that getting her back in 3A was the greatest gift that he'd ever received, even better than Cora's birth in some ways because he'd missed her so very much and missed so much of her life in the 6 years they were separated. Still, after almost a decade of pain for him, I like to imagine that after her almost being killed by the Darach, he finally decided to take this second chance for what it was. He was going to take the opportunity to reconnect with her with both hands and never let go. This is why I hate so much that they just disappeared Cora entirely after the season finished because Derek had just gotten his little sister back and they didn't even have the decency to make that matter for Derek.

So, in a post-season 1-4 utopia where everyone lived and no one died (I'll never forgive them for what they did to Erica and Boyd either), we've got Derek now in a pack with Allison, Lydia, Erica, Cora, Kira, and Malia, all at the same time. And he. is. reveling in it. The fact that he has Cora back alone gives him the push he needs to get his life back in order, but he's also got a pack again that he cares about, and he's got even more little sisters to love and protect as far as he's concerned. Not that he would ever say it in so many words (or at all), but the girls totally know it anyway and also secretly love it. But yeah, he has to get his shit in order for them so they can know that he's someone they can lean on and rely on in times of need, And he fucking dotes on these girls like it's his job and fucking preens whenever his efforts are positively received. Everyone knows that the girls are his soft spots, even the most oblivious of the boys (Scott), though no one ever mentions it in a negative or demeaning way after that one time Jackson made fun of Derek for buying an array of pads and tampons once, just to have on hand in case the girls ever needed them, and Stiles lit his ass up so swiftly and brutally that he refused to come go back to the loft for a week (it takes a lot to cow Jackson into submission, and so far, only Lydia and Stiles have managed it).

I imagine that he keeps little things on hand for each of the girls, just to make them feel comfortable at the loft. He keeps bulk bags of the seasonal shapes Reese's on hand for Erica all year long because she's obsessed with them and will only share them with Stiles, not even Boyd (but only 1 out of a 65-piece bag, which Stiles respects). He buys Dasani water bottles in bulk to keep on hand for Allison because she prefers it over other brands but doesn't really like juice or soda. There's an abundance of throw blankets and pillows in the loft because Kira gets cold easily and likes to burrito up on the couch when she's there. He keeps advanced mathematics puzzle books and books full of increasingly difficult math equations and formulas all over the loft for Lydia to pick up and try out when she needs to relax and let her brain frolic for a little while (and he keeps each books she completes because he's just so proud/in awe of her amazing brain and what she can do with it). He makes sure to have plenty of comfy seats/squishy cushions available near the windows for Cora to lounge in and stocks the bookcases with new titles every two weeks because she is and always has been a voracious reader of any and all genres in her spare time (just like him). And for Malia, he keeps a lot of high protein-rich and texture-varied snacks around because her metabolism is still out of whack from being a coyote for so long, and she likes to crunch/chew on things when she's hungry, bored, or stressed.

He also makes sure to spend time with each of them individually, doing things that they specifically like not only to help foster their interests and just fucking bond, man (he does the same for the boys, but he most looks forward to his time with the girls and feels most rewarded by their outings) but also to assure them that they matter as individual people and not just as members of the pack.

He and Malia go for full-shift runs through the preserve as often as she needs, and honestly just spend a lot of time in their wolf/coyote forms because it helps Malia feel more settled in herself. He also spends a lot of time tutoring her and helping her get back up to speed academically, but they also have a ton of conversations with about being human and how difficult that shit is sometimes for people like the. He helps her figure out how to reconcile being of two worlds as they are, and how not to sacrifice one half of herself in favor of the other. Cora helps with this too, but I've always felt like Derek was far more comfortable as a were-creature than most, so Malia values his insight a lot more than anyone else's and looks up to him for managing to navigate the world pretty well, all things considered. He makes sure she knows that it's actually okay if she feels more like a coyote than a girl most of the time and helps her find coping mechanisms for those times that she feels out of control and can't get to somewhere that's safe for her to shift (she spends a lot of time in her beta and full shifts at the loft because Derek has designated it as a shifter safe-space). Through these conversations, they almost inadvertently manage to help each other with their trauma about the loss of their loved ones in relation to what they are (because Derek sometimes falls into the idea that his family would still be alive if they weren't werewolves because Kate never would have singled him out if he weren't), and they become two of the best fucking full shift were-people on the West Coast because of it.

With Cora, the two of them just go on a lot of night drives through town and sometimes to the surrounding cities (I imagine Beacon Hills to be somewhere near Placerville, CA, so it wouldn't take all that long to go in either direction down 50 and get to a bigger city). This is actually why Derek gets rid of the Camaro in favor of the FJ Cruiser, even if it is ugly, so he can handle the hills a little better. I think their family used to go on road trips a lot like mine did instead of flying anywhere, so they're both more comfortable bonding in a car than anywhere else, so I always imagined that that's what they did at the end of 3A, just took a road trip to nowhere all so they could relearn each other as family instead of as reluctant allies. And they stop in the oldest bookstore they can find in each place they stop so they can both get a new book from each place and rebuild the library of books they used to share. So, whenever either of them gets too much in their own head or has nightmares, or even just can't fucking sleep, they'll hop in the car and go for a drive for a while to clear their heads. They pop on Derek's old iPod (he had it on his person when the fire happened, so it survived) and just jam out and chill together. I think this is the time they take to reminisce over their family because it's just the two of them. There's no one there to make it awkward if they tear up or get angry because they understand each other perfectly.

For Allison, I think that their activities are sparring and, oddly enough, baking. Allison is still atoning for her season 2 actions, and for her family's fucked up history as a whole, so I can't imagine that most of the betas are all that willing to spar with her. Boyd, Isaac, and Erica are still a little afraid of her, Lydia doesn't really like to fight (at first, but I'll get into that later), Scott can't bring himself to potentially hurt her still even though she's with Isaac and they're no longer dating, Stiles is more likely to hurt himself than her, Kira will spar but isn't advanced enough yet to be able to keep up, and Malia doesn't know how to hold back enough for it to be training (Jackson refuses to spar with anyone but Peter and Derek for fear of ever hurting his friends again, and they all accept and support his choice). Derek, though, understands what it means to be used the way she was and to bear the weight of a regret and remorse that shouldn't belong to you alone, so he spars with her and runs her through tracking drills in the preserve because he's not afraid of her and wants to give her the best tools possible in order for her to be able to keep to her family's new code as best she can. He understands the weight of a legacy like that, so instead of simply being allies, they become friends and pack, and they keep each other in check simply by ensuring that they will always consider each other when confronted with other were-creatures or hunters that don't have their best interests at heart.

And with the baking, well. This one is simple. Derek's father loved to bake, and so did Allison's mother, and while their losses come from different places, they can both understand what it means to love someone and lose them in a tragic way. And they can forgive each other for the parts they played in those deaths, no matter how direct or indirect, for Kate's part in his father's murder and for Derek's part in her mother's suicide. They squash the Argent/Hale feud over cookies, cakes, and pies, and the entire pack is better for it, for their two best fighters coming together and finding common ground over macaroons (and these two can bake their asses off, guys, the shit they bake is so good that there's actually talks of them going to confectionary school once Allison graduates so they can open up a bakery together afterwards).

With Lydia, a lot of people would think that they go on shopping sprees and for mani/pedis, and they do, but that's not those aren't their favorite things to do together. Their absolute favorite Lydia&Derek activity is to stay in, dress down in jammies or sweats (no makeup to be found), and watch movies and eat like shit all day. Derek has never once told Lydia that she can't watch The Notebook for the thousandth time because she's never told him that he can't watch Love Actually for the thousandth time, but they mostly love to unabashedly watch shitty action and horror flicks while pointing out all of the inaccuracies/impossibilities that occur in them. They both unabashedly love Queen of the Damned and love to hate Blade: Trinity and they have a novel's worth of theories about how they'd handle a classic horror or slasher situation (mostly because they know exactly how they'd react in a situation like that, given their lives). Lydia also has a fascination with martial arts films, about the artistry in Wushu specifically, and for one of her birthdays, Derek signs her up for and pays for her to attend lessons at a dojo he found in Sacramento, and he even enrolls himself alongside her so she doesn't have to do it alone. He drives them to and from each lesson and gets them dinner afterward so they can discuss the techniques they learned, and they regularly practice on their own to the point where they quickly climb up the belt ranks. Derek and Lydia often present their belts to each other (instead, like, a parent or sibling or whatever) because they both know how hard the other has worked to get there. And Derek makes sure Lydia always knows just how proud he is of her for her strength and tenacity to learn something like this despite no one ever thinking she could or would, to make herself into a weapon no one would ever suspect while still remaining her flawlessly beautiful and wickedly brilliant self all at the same time. Also, I kind of imagine that Lydia ends up progressing into other forms of martial arts from this, and Derek goes right along with her because he's her absolute biggest supporter.

For Kira, their activities are also two-fold. These two are nerd out over lore together and play video games. We know that Derek is actually very smart, and his mind is a steel trap of lore and supernatural history that just delights Stiles sometimes. If you recall, he knew exactly what Kira was when he saw her, and I imagine that he actually knows quite a lot about kitsunes and their history. He probably has access to all sorts of resources that Kira needs, and because her mom oftentimes seems very withholding about sharing Kira's heritage with her, I feel like Derek gets her every book, tome, and scroll he can find on the subject and puts her into contact with other kitsunes he knows of just so she can be properly armed with the information she wants/needs about herself and seek further training. If there's a question he can answer, he does so willingly and without hesitation, and he's probably the one who helps her figure out how to mask her aura so she can be safe, not so she can become ashamed of herself or what she is. After that, these two just end up nerding out over various bits and pieces of lore they come across, and they eventually end up working together (along with Stiles and Lydia) to compile a pack bestiary, that way they can all access and reference the information in a concise and clear fashion.

I feel like their love of lore leads to them finding out that they're both huge fans of the Witcher series, though Derek has yet to play the games and is initially only a fan of the books. When Kira figures this out, she immediately invites him to play the games because she owns them all. Derek's no stranger to games--he actually quite enjoys the Elder Scrolls and Fallout series and played a lot of StarCraft back when he had time--so it doesn't actually take a lot of convincing on her part to get him to sit down with her and try it out (yes, Stiles is super fucking salty about this but is often allowed to join them in their gameplay sessions). This man becomes immediately fucking obsessed and falls in love with the attention to detail and lore presented in the series, and he plays each one multiple times before letting Kira coax him into Dark Souls (and the two of them attend many a midnight release for those released later in the series, and for Bloodbourne and Elden Ring too), which eventually leads to Kira explaining Mortal Kombat's lore and getting him to play, and then they backtrack to start the Final Fantasy series, and this continues on and on until these two are eventually going to gaming conventions and eSports events together. They do joint costumes for any and all conventions they attend (they go as Geralt and Ciri for their first one) and they win several costume contests because of how well-done and accurate their costumes tend to be. These two become a nightmare of a dream team when it comes to playing against them during pack nights. Like...no one has ever beaten them at a video game, not individually and certainly not when they're on the same team, and everyone wants them on their team when it comes to group games because they're both that damn good. It frustrates the shit out of the rest of the pack, but they often use it to their advantage by signing the two up for gaming competitions where they are both inevitably underestimated and end up shit-stomping their competition so severely that they're often accused of cheating. But they aren't. They're just that damn good.

Actually, I feel like this also leads into Derek sharing his love of tabletop games with Kira, which eventually leads to them trying out tabletop roleplaying games (which Kira puppy-dog eyes the rest of the pack into trying) until, eventually, Derek and Kira are co-DMing a years-long D&D campaign for the pack that they keep even when everyone goes off to college and into adulthood when they return and start working their grown up jobs. Kira and Derek are bonded in nerdom forever, and they couldn't ask for anyone better to share that sort of joy with.

And as for Erica, well. He loves all of the girls, loves the whole pack, but Erica will always, always, always hold a special place in Derek's heart. There is nothing Erica could ask him to do that he would say no to. Part of that stems from her being his second beta and the only girl of their original little pack, but it mostly comes from all of what Erica was never able to experience before the bite. Think about it. Depending on when Erica's epilepsy developed or started becoming an issue for her, she's probably missed out on so many "normal" things like parties and movies and even fucking carnivals and amusement parks, guys. So, I think that Derek is her co-pilot in life while she experiences all of these things, just to make sure she remains safe while doing it but also so she can feel safe and live.

The whole pack has season passes to Six Flags in Vallejo so Erica can get her fill of all of the rides and games she never got to experience as a kid. They go to every pop-up carnival that comes even remotely close to Beacon Hills, and they go at night so Erica can look up at all the blinking lights and have the colors all stand out in contrast to the darkness, and she loves it. She makes Derek win her prizes at the rigged games, and she wins him prizes at strength and agility games because she likes to show off. Derek even gets her a fake ID so they can sneak into dance clubs and raves, and he endures all of the noise and lights just for her because she deserves this freedom and has lived long enough without it.

Unlike Lydia, Derek actually does accompany Erica on shopping trips, but that's because he's actually got impeccable taste and will be honest with her about whether something looks good or not. I've always suspected that Derek is the one who paid for her wardrobe after she got the bite, and that he's the one who walked her through how to do her hair and makeup too. He learned a lot from Laura and was often tasked with helping her when she couldn't get a braid quite right or couldn't reach the back of her head, so teaching Erica how to do those things was a way for him to help his beta and keep his big sister's memory alive at the same time. I imagine that he tells her all sorts of stories about Laura while he's deep conditioning her hair or touching up her roots for her, and Erica covets and hordes every single one of them because she knows what a precious gift they are to her.

So, yeah. Thanks for reading my dissertation of Derek Hale's gooey feelings about the girls in his life. I would apologize for how long it is, but I'm not sorry and think that more of us should share this sort of stuff with each other, even if we're not writing fan fiction or sharing the fics we are writing.

Maybe I'll do a companion post about Derek and the boys of the pack...who knows?

[keanureevesisbae]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 01. jailbreak

Spencer Reid x Elodie Price (asian/pacific islander/moluccan OFC)

Summary: When serial killer Rowan Rancher escaped from prison, it's up to the BAU to not only find him, but also his daughter.

Serie warnings: Mention of murder, blood. Mention of rape (not described). Eventual smut.

Chapter warnings: Mention of murder and blood. Indirect mention of rape. Just a murderer in general already.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: So, believe it or not, but I am not a genius 🤷🏽‍♀️ So everything Spencer says is either literally copy paste from Wikipedia or I attempted to do math and calculate shit myself. So I hope you like 😘

Masterlist // Beyond Words Masterlist

Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were - Marcel Proust

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Them

‘We’ve got a situation,’ agent Aaron Hotchner, unit chief of the Quantico’s Behavioral Analysis unit, says to his team, as they’ve all gathered for this case. ‘Rowan Rancher has escaped the prison facility in Texas.’

‘Rowan Rancher murdered twenty four women aged twenty seven to forty one—that we know of—over the course of seven years. His preference was for brunettes with blue eyes, which is a clear resemblance of his mother Megan Rancher. However, victim number twenty five was a man named Wendall Regal. It was actually the first murder he confessed after he was arrested and it was the only murder he didn’t deny.’ Spencer Reid’s eyes go through the file, absorbing the information he practically knew by heart already. ‘Rowan Rancher had a daughter. Rossi, weren’t you the one who interrogated her?’

SSA David Rossi leans back in his chair, looking at one of the pictures in the files. It was a graduation picture of Elodie Rancher, the daughter of Rowan Rancher. ‘I was,’ he answers. ‘She led us to the fifteen burial sites.’

Rossi remembers the pain and hurt he saw in the eyes of Elodie, a fragile seventeen year old, completely damaged by her serial killer father. Because Rowan and Elodie traveled a lot, the burial sites were scattered over the country. Some in Nevada, others in California, a few in Florida, one in Hawaii, more in Maine and the remaining ones in the Washington state, where Rancher finally was caught.

‘I helped her with a new identity,’ Rossi continues, ‘gave her a bit of a boost to start her life. Therapy, more counseling and eventually she stopped updating me I assumed it went well.’

‘Elodie Rancher now goes by Elodie Price,’ tech savvy Penelope Garcia says, pulling a newer picture of Elodie on the screen. She lost the innocent look, the deep dark circles under her eyes and the sunken cheeks. She grew her hair out, the shoulder length waves made way for long luscious locks of black hair. A septum piercing, a few hints of tattoos. While back when she still lived with Rowan Rancher she had almost a girly and angelic aura, she now looks tougher.

Broken.

‘Where do we think Rowan Rancher went?’ JJ asks. ‘Because judging from the enormous amounts of deranged fan mail this man receives, he has plenty of places to hide.’

Rossi shakes his head. ‘No, there was only one thing that set this man off. That made him irritable and that was the absence of his daughter. He’ll use the women who sent him those fan mails and were stupid enough to put their addresses on it to get him closer to who he truly wants.’

‘Elodie Price,’ Derek notes. ‘Baby girl, is she on a lot of social media?’

‘Nope,’ Garcia says. ’She has a tiny social media footprint. The only times facial rec got a hit was because she was partially in a picture of someone else, but this girl is practically a ghost.’

‘Where does she currently live?’ Emily Prentiss asks.

‘Right here in Quantico,’ Garcia answers. ‘She works from home as a translator. English to Dutch and vice versa.’

‘Dutch is a West Germanic language spoken by approximately twenty five million people as a first language and five million as a second language. Actually it’s one of the closest relatives of both German and English and, like the English language, hasn’t undergone the High German consonant shift, therefore it doesn’t use the Germanic umlaut, has largely abandoned the use of the subjunctive and has leveled much of its morphology, including most of its case system.’

While Spencer takes a deep breath to continue, agent Hotchner figures it’s the best moment to divide tasks. ‘I want Prentiss and JJ on the jet to Texas, to help out the local police departments and prison employees to communicate with the public. Rossi and Reid, go pay Elodie Price a visit. Morgan, you and I will stay here and set up a task force in order to locate Rowan Rancher. Garcia?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘I want you to try and trace Rancher’s steps. I want an exact step by step track record of when he escaped, his route and where he can possibly reside.’

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Her

Sometimes I am not too sure whether or not my ability to spot lies from miles away is a blessing or a curse. I’m one hundred percent certain the Starbucks barista who just wished me a nice day, rather wished me and every customer prior and after me would get hit by a bus. The slight tension in her jaw, the dark eyes.

She is not in an excellent mood.

With my Chai Latte with a pump of caramel, I make my way back to my place. I barely leave the safe walls of my apartment and when I do leave, it’s to do groceries, grab a coffee and go to the local independent bookstores. 

My life is simple and simple is all I need.

Once back home in my studio apartment, I sit down at my dinner table that serves as my work space for the next upcoming three hours. I’ve finished a lot of my work already, meaning I can either work ahead or call it a day.

Becoming a translator is honestly not the job I thought I’d do for the rest of my life, but translating technical manuals, school texts books and other boring things requires very little interaction with others and for now, that is what I need. 

The fear of someone recognizing me as Elodie Rancher is a fear I assume I will carry with me till the day I die. 

Three knocks on my door and I stretch out my neck, as if that enhances my hearing. Thinking it’s my senile neighbor Dolores again, I stand up and look through the peephole, before deciding if I’ll be home to deal with her antics again.

But it’s not Dolores. It’s someone else.

Two people. Men. And they both look familiar.

When I open the door, I see David Rossi standing there, the man who helped me gain footing again after my father was arrested back in Washington. ‘Mister Rossi,’ I manage to choke out. 

‘Elodie,’ he says, ‘how are you doing?’

All of the sudden, I am seventeen again. Traumatized, fearful and not too sure what to do with my life. ‘Something happened,’ I conclude, not answering the question. ‘Something involving my father.’

David Rossi lets out a deep sigh. ‘Elodie, can we come in?’

I take a step to the side, letting David Rossi and the man next to him inside. He’s tall—like, a lot taller than to my below average height—and says: ‘I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I listen to your seminars sometimes.’

That piques his interest. ‘Seriously?’

’Yeah,’ I answer, closing the door behind him. Seeing these agents standing in my living room, causes me to nearly shake with anxiety. ‘What happened?’

‘Rowan Rancher has escaped prison.’

Five words, but they are enough to knock all air out of my lungs. My father escaped prison? He’s been incarcerated for eight years, how on earth did he manage to do that? My father is smart, no doubt, but escapism appeared to be something that was part of fiction.

Not reality.

‘Oh,’ is the intelligent answer I manage to muster up. 

‘We have reason to believe that you are in possible danger if he figures out where you are,’ David Rossi continues, ‘therefore we want to offer you a deal.’

‘Okay?’

‘You help us with an eventual profile, tracking his steps, since you are truly the only one who knows him better than anyone. We’ll make sure you are in safe hands, always flanked by an agent.’

Deep down I want to say no. I don’t want protection, but knowing the lengths my father goes through to finish what he started, I have to help them.

Otherwise the Rowan Rancher victim count will only increase again.

■□■□■□■□■□■

‘The Maluku Islands are an archipelago in the eastern part of Indonesia. Geographically they are located east of Sulawesi, west of New Guinea and north and east of Timor. The islands have been considered a geographical and cultural intersection of Asia and Oceania. Actually—fun fact—the islands were known as the Spice Islands, because of the nutmeg, mace and cloves that were exclusively found there.’

Believe it or not, I didn’t ask for this explanation about the Maluku Islands. However, when I said to Spencer Reid my mother was a Moluccan woman born in The Netherlands, it ignited something in him to tell me all about my heritage. 

But honestly I am not complaining about said history lesson. While I told the doctor I sometimes listen to his seminars, little does anyone know I actually listen to his seminars to go to sleep. The tidal waves of information that rolls from his tongue in a fast pace, causes me to dive into a deep night sleep. Not because I’m bored, but because I’m calmed down.

‘Sorry, Elodie,’ the man who introduced himself as Derek Morgan says, ‘there isn’t an off switch on this kid.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘No need to turn him off.’

Back at the Quantico headquarters, I’m quickly adopted by their technical analyst Penelope Garcia, under the close supervision of David Rossi. I’m staring at the last picture of my father, one pulled from security footage ten miles away from the prison. Ever since that moment, it almost appears like he’s a ghost. Evaporated into thin air. 

‘It had been my father and I since I was five,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for the other two to hear me. ’My mother ran off, unable to live with Rowan, because of his personality.’

Penelope turns to me. ‘And she just left you there?’

‘Yeah. When… When mister Rossi reached out to her after my father was caught, she hung up the phone after telling him I was doomed to fail anyway. She now lives in Australia, has three kids and is the stepmom of a girl who was my age. Who apparently wasn’t doomed to fail.’

Penelope places her hand on my shoulder and whispers: ‘I’m sorry.’

I quickly push aside the thoughts, before I tell them I have to use the restroom. Once done there, I walk passed the bullpen, witnessing Spencer bowed over a map. I push open the door and walk up to him. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘According to the traceable steps of Rowan Rancher pulled by Garcia, it occurred to me that he travels predominantly east.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘That’s what he always said to me. When in doubt, go east. No idea why, but he just said that.’

‘It is essentially what you did,’ Spencer says. ‘Going from Washington state to Wyoming, then Iowa and then settling in Virginia, is traveling east.’ Spencer continues on to tell me about the landmarks Rowan Rancher will encounter when he continues to travel east, however I say: ‘He met my mother in Columbus, Ohio.’

When David Rossi first found me, I barely could muster up the energy nor the memories to tell him this information. Instead of talking about it, I pushed it down. My mother wasn’t a USA citizen and considering she at first was practically untraceable and then made it very clear she didn’t want to talk about Rowan Rancher, every bit of information about him came back to me. 

But I was useless when I was seventeen.

I will not make the same mistake at the tender age of twenty five.

‘They met at the botanical gardens, if I remember correctly,’ I say.

Compared to Spencer Reid, my memory was severely lacking. 

‘The Franklin Park Conservatory and Botanical Gardens,’ he recites. 

’Yeah, somewhere near the Pacific Island part.’

‘Pacific Island Water Garden.’

‘I think so.’

Spencer Reid tilts his head. ‘We don’t know why exactly Rowan Rancher escaped. In the time he was incarcerated, he only received fanmail, had zero visitors and doesn’t interact with fellow prisoners.’

‘He escaped because he thinks he didn’t do anything wrong,’ I say. ‘Murdering Wendall Regal was different, but according to the way he would think, I only assume he’d think his sentence is done with the eight years.’

I did it for you, baby. No man can do what he did to you. Shivers run down my spine as I hear my father’s voice, covered in the blood of Wendall Regal.

‘I think he just wants to retrace the steps of happiness. When he met my mother, I guess he was happy. When I was born in Miami, Florida during a storm in a hotel room, I guess he was happy.’

‘Can you tell me all the places where you remember your father was happy?’ Spencer asks.

And all I can do is nod, before I go back deep into my memory, hopefully able to help the people catch my father. 

■□■□■□■□■□■

Five days. It took them five days and one female victim before they caught my dad in Miami Florida, near the same hotel I was born. The female victim was one of his fans, one of the people who was stupid enough to write down her address on the fan mail, instead of a post office box. She wasn’t my father’s normal type—this woman was fifty years old, had died red hair and had brown eyes—but she also wasn’t murdered in a manner it would be recognized to be murdered by my father. 

The only thing that gave away what he did, was the ERR carved in her skin. Elodie Rowan Rancher. My real name. The name he gave to me. It was him who named me Elodie. It was him who insisted on having a middle name identical to his own name. It was him who laughed at my mom for possibly thinking it would be okay I was gonna have my mom’s surname. 

ERR.

I sometimes think he killed because of me. I wondered what I did to make him do that.

My time here at the BAU has come to an end. After saying my goodbyes to everyone, together with Spencer I step into the elevator. I accidentally told him how the 1994 movie Speed with Keanu Reeves is my favorite movie.

‘The movie premiered in Hollywood on June 7th 1994, only to be released to the rest of the United States three days later. It became critically and commercially successful and the fifth-highest-grossing movie of 1994.’

‘It won two Academy Awards,’ I interject. ‘For Best Sound Effects Editing and Best Sound.’

Spencer turns to the side, a wide smile toying on his lips. Those puppy eyes nearly glimmer, almost like he’s delighted that I’m adding information to it. ‘Exactly. The sequel Speed 2: Cruise Control was actually nominated for eight Golden Raspberry Awards, winning the Worst Remake or Sequel category. The Golden Raspberry Awards is a parody award show honoring the worst of cinematic failures. They say it’s due to the absence of Keanu Reeves, who decided not to reprise his role as Jack Traven.’

‘Who is the most awarded actor?’ I ask. ‘Of those awards?’

‘Sylvester Stallone. He was nominated thirty three times and won eleven Golden Raspberry Awards.’

The way to my place is filled with these types of conversations. Including Spencer Reid reciting a good ten minutes of the movie Speed. I knew his brain was mesmerizing, but there is something so endearing about seeing it in real life.

Once we’re standing in front of my door, I say: ‘Thank you, for making these odd couple of days bearable.’

‘Five days,’ he says, because he simply can’t help himself. 

‘Five days,’ I repeat. I open the door of my place and say: ‘Thank you, Spencer.’

‘Thank you for your help. Thanks to you I could make a clear geographical map of important places for Rancher, meaning I could better pinpoint the spots he could be, thanks to Garcia’s sightings. Also, thank you for identifying the mark on the victim.’

‘Of course,’ I say, clenching my jaw, trying to push it down. ‘Well, you should go home. It’s been a rough few days.’

‘Actually, the best time for me to go to bed is either at eight in the evening or eleven. Considering it’s nine fifteen now, I have to wait one hour and forty-five minutes before I can fall asleep. However, it still is a thirty minute commute back to my place and if all goes well, I’ve got enough time to read the entire Harry Potter series and the first book of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I could then read approximately eighty percent of book two, the Two Towers.’

‘Right,’ I say, my head spinning a little because of this load of information. ‘Well, you better get going then.’

He smiles. ‘Yeah, I should.’ He awkwardly holds up his hand. ‘Bye.’

And I watch Spencer clutching onto his bag, making his way to the elevator and for the first time in a long time, I feel a smile on my face.

 ■□■□■□■□■□■

Beyond Words Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @beenthroughalot // @chickensarentcheap //

[masterwords]

It's cheesy but would you consider a sleep deprived Hotch trying to hold conversation with Derek but failing and falling asleep on him instead. Maybe they're already together at this point maybe the interaction melts Derek's heart to the stoic emotionless Boss. ☺️❤️

Look at me, answering asks from November! I swear I'll get to all of them eventually. But anyway, I love this one so much and it made me think of their late night in 5x05 - Cradle to Grave and "This is the job" and "Unless you have other plans" and "Not tonight" and...anyway! It's kind of platonic-ish but really not at all, you know how it goes with me and my rotting brain. (1.4k words)

*** a perfect setting ***

“This is the job,” he says with a smirk, but as lighthearted as he's trying to play this off it's just not. There isn't any question that he's doing the right thing. He can't keep this job for many reasons. Foyet is watching him and there is a certain performance he knows he needs to give, but he's not sure that it's still a performance. It might be true. He might be falling apart.

He hasn't slept in two days. Between the pain that hits so hard in the middle of the night and the phantom sounds of locks clicking and floors creaking and walls groaning...he's had the worst couple of nights in recent history. As the fog clears on his attack and those memories start to settle into their proper places, he's finding it harder to adjust to any sort of healthy rhythm. He fell asleep at the table while he was drinking his morning coffee, just lay his head down on his arms and dozed off until an email buzzed the phone against his arm and startled him awake.

First instinct? The holster on his leg.

Reaching for his weapon because of his phone. So yeah, maybe he was coming apart just a little. And giving this job to Derek made sense.

But watching the ease with which Derek absorbs the information he's attempting to lay out in a concise way is really forcing him to see the situation with a clarity he hadn't before. The stark contrast between the way Derek focuses and his own inability is startling.

“I could use some coffee, you?” he asks, and Derek nods quickly.

“Yeah. Coffee. Good call.”

He's half asleep when he stands, a little wobbly, a little unsteady. Exhausted and battling medications that come with bold warnings about side-effects like dizziness, drowsiness, fatigue, he also knows there are even simpler facts here that he's got to contend with. Hardly two months prior, he lost a massive amount of blood and that alone is bound to be a problem for a while longer if his doctors are to be believed. “Stop drinking coffee,” they tell him with those sour faces. “Drink water. You lost a significant amount of blood. It doesn't just regenerate over night and everything is back to normal.” Well, water doesn't help him stay awake so he's desperate.

He has some pills to take, his phone buzzes in his pocket and reminds him. He's been snoozing that alarm for hours, and now he's dangerously close to not being able to take them at all and having to wait for the next day's dose. But they make him so damn tired. He washes them down with coffee and hopes for the best.

“You don't need to stick around,” Derek says when he notices the way Hotch's eyelids get heavy while he glances over what Derek has completed so far. “I got this.”

“I'm okay,” Hotch lies. His meds are making him foggy. No matter how much caffeine he dumps in there he's still exhausted and falling asleep sitting up only with the added pleasure of heartburn and the inability to actually stay asleep if he lets himself drift. There has to be a line he crosses into total body shut down, he's just not there yet. Derek shrugs and goes back to his file when he sees Hotch pull one from the pile on the little coffee table and begin looking through what he's done.

The next time he looks up, Hotch's chin is buried in his chest. Derek walks over and drops the file onto the pile and slowly slips the open folder out of Hotch's hand. This, of course, wakes him up.

“Have a seat,” he says, trying to save face. “I noticed something you missed.” His voice is groggy and slow. Derek rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Oh, now come on...you were asleep...”

“Be that as it may, I did see something you missed.”

Derek sits down and Hotch doesn't skip a beat, he's leaning close and pointing to a few things that Derek sees right away...he must be tired too. He blinks hard and tries to focus, he's not used to staying up this late. Sure, maybe on the weekends when he wants to party a little and let loose but he's pretty rigid about bed time and wake up time on work nights if their case load allows. He values his full night of sleep, his morning workout, his routine. Taking this job is going to burn all of that down if he's not careful, starting tonight. He can't remember the last time he downed a cup of coffee after midnight.

Hotch smells really good. Like he's fresh out of the shower, and he shampoos with money. It's more than a little distracting in a very pleasant way. It's been a while since they've been this close, since they've fallen asleep in a pile on a couch in the middle of case files. Haley used to throw blankets over the top of them when they were at Hotch's home, just heap them in all sorts of mismatched granny throws and let them stay where they were. He misses those days, so this is making him more than a little wistful.

As he fixes the mistakes he made, he notes that beside him rather quickly, Hotch loses his battle with sleep entirely. He's still sitting up but his head is lolling to the side, slowly drifting closer and closer until it's resting heavy against Derek's shoulder. He doesn't flinch when the connection is made, and he doesn't wake. Slowly, so as not to disturb him, Derek closes the file and slides it to the couch beside him before leaning back into the cushions and letting himself succumb.

It's way past his bed time, and besides, isn't he the boss now? It's quitting time.

JJ happens upon them during her morning rounds. She's no stranger to this sight, except it's been a long time and she almost can't believe it. Unfortunately, something that should feel a little nostalgic fills her with a little dread because she can't think of any good reason for them having slept in Hotch's office. Not since Foyet.

“...time is it?”

She drops the files off on his desk, grabs what he's got in his outbox, and whispers that they've got plenty of time before anyone else will be in. “You guys should go get some breakfast...maybe shower...”

“My place isn't far away.” Derek's eyes aren't even open yet, his arms are folded over his chest

“I didn't mean shower together...”

Penelope, who shouldn't be at work yet but has somehow found her way into the mix, chimes in with a grin. “If we're talking about doubling up on showers, dibs on Hot Chocolate...no offense, sir.”

Hotch flushes and stands up. His ribs ache and his head swims. He needs a few more hours of sleep, and some food. And water, his mouth is parched. “I think I'll head home. Call if you need me. I'll be back in time for the morning briefing.”

“Yeah...heading home sounds nice. I'll uh...” Derek pauses, finally opening his eyes and glancing at Hotch, really taking in how tired he looks. “You know what? Make it lunch time. I'll be back by lunch.”

They leave the office together without any fuss, just grab their jackets and leave. Hotch can't remember the last time he left without his briefcase and a go-bag in his hand, but he's just too tired to care. And he isn't the boss anymore. He's allowed to leave his work at work for a while.

Hotch is so exhausted that he just follows Derek to his car like a lost puppy. “You wanna just come to my place? It's closer. I've got a guest bed, you can get a few extra hours of shut eye in there. I'll even let Clooney pop in and I'll turn a blind eye if you want him on the bed if you ask nice.”

Hotch considers his apartment, how cold it is, how he sees Foyet in the shadows, and for once he gives in. Derek's home is warm and inviting, and Clooney always makes him feel safe.

“That would be nice.” He hasn't been to Derek's house in years, hasn't seen Clooney in forever.

Derek grins. “Just like old times, huh?”

A sleepy and content smile drifts over his features as he slides into the passenger seat of Derek's car. “Just like old times.”

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Bread squid is the biggest freak in aphblur, did you read their rewrite post? They get off to angst. Nobody should write that just to make a story darker, there is a line. This is fetish.

First off: they’ve said this and I’ll repeat it directly to you, if you have a problem with them, take it up with them. They don’t want you going over to their mutuals when you can address the problem directly.

And I’ll be honest I skim read because… long posts on tumblr kill me, especially when it comes to one’s about darker topics and I’m sorry about that. I don’t have the attention span nor the energy. So I didn’t really… get all the information from it.

Writing dark material doesn’t always mean you fetishise it, and from the few things I picked up, some stuff was canon, or canonically implied (like Garte’s abuse of his family, and, y’know, Micheal has been very heavily insinuated to not be of the… consent-wanting variety). In fact from what I did absorb from what I read from the post, the thing I’m the iffiest on is Derek getting redeemed but like I get it, he’s a canonically redeemed character and just because I think he deserves death, not everyone has to.

I mean I could reread the post, but, again, it’s their post you have an issue with, and honestly, it’s something drawn from their own experiences as a victim, so I feel delicately about heading face-first into dissing them for what they said.

Of course, you’re allowed your opinions and to block or whatever anyone who doesn’t fit how you want your internet experience to be. But I don’t want to be dragged into anything if it’s something you can hash out with them, and I have no part in. Of course, if I think the proceeding events after you discuss it with them aren’t handled well, I will do what I need to do to keep my internet space nice and clean, and drama-free. But I’m not interested in being dragged into something I hardly know a thing about. It’s their post. Talk to them.

(Also, tagging @bread-squid-uwu again because this is about them, and they should be given a chance to defend themself)

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

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[skiller0dani]

Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

//

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

//

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

//

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

[spencerspecifics]

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

~

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

~

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

~

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

~

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

~

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

~

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

~

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

~

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

~

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

~

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

~

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

~

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.  

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part.  I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.  

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.  

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

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[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (04b)

word count; 7050

summary; you wait hours for news on the young boy, and when the results are finally in, it looks like a breakthrough with thomas might be on the horizon.

notes; this is the second half of part four since it got so long, hope you guys enjoy!

warnings; reference to injury.

Trying to make yourself a little calmer, and distract yourself from how you were feeling, you peeled the gloves from your hands, dropping them in the nearest trash can and searching to find some toilets. The mirror did not offer you a reflection you were proud to see, tear-stained cheeks that cut through sweat-caked dust in tracks, messy hair and red eyes; like picturesque misery. 

There was blood on the clean fabric of your button-up shirt, and your medical bag held little that would be able to help, but you were sure you could at least make a start. Holding your hand under the dispenser for soap, the soft humming made by the machine as it deposited a small pile of foam into your hand was enough to break the rigid silence, and you let out a slow breath. Logically, you knew it wasn’t your fault that he was injured, the boy was almost an adult, he was old enough to make his own decisions, and yet you’d let yourself become attached, you’d tried to offer him advice that had backfired, and so you couldn't help but feel partly responsible. 

The water ran pink as your skin was cleared, before shaky fingers were coming up to undo the buttons along your top. The long-sleeve top worn underneath wasn’t the warmest of items, but it was better than sitting in a blood-soaked shirt, and so you folded the crisp white uniform up carefully, tucking it into your bag and letting out a sigh. With hands cupped under the cold water tap, you let your palms fill, before leaning over the sink and splashing your face carefully with the water, rubbing away the grime and salt present on your skin until it felt fresh and clean once again. 

Your eyes were still lined with red and your throat was still raw, but both of those would begin to fade as you finally began to get a hold of yourself once again. Your head was hurting, both inside and outside, the tight ponytail your hair was pulled up into made your scalp ache as you released it, and you rubbed your fingers gently through the strands to try and soothe that pain, making a note to find some water for your oncoming headache soon. 

Finally, it was enough, hair flailing loose around your shoulders once again and skin clean, at least feeling a little more comfortable than you had, and as you patted down the pockets of your bag, you found your phone again, grateful that Newt must’ve tucked it in there when he’d gone back to the van for you, because you were sure you’d left it on the dash. There was a text from Newt, just having arrived back at the station, saying that he'd spoken to Vince and everything was cleared up, while Brenda had also left a text saying she was hoping that both you and the boy were okay. 

A voice cleared in front of you, snapping your attention away from where you were trying to think of how to reply, clicking your phone off and looking away to find the source of the disturbance. Allison was standing before you, a gown on her body and a scrub cap on her head, but she’d shed the mask and gloves, for now, smiling a little as she began to undo the ties behind her back and neck. 

“I came to give you a little update about what’s going on.”

“Already? It’s only been, what, forty minutes?” Panic flared up inside of you once again at the speed at which she was emerging, but the soft smile and a chuckle she gave to you was reassurance enough. 

“Don’t worry, the kid is doing alright. Doctor Hale is great at his job, and it’s all going smoothly.” You rubbed your hands down along your pants, clearing sweaty palms and standing up to be the same height as her. “He’ll be going into the ICU after this, so why don’t you walk with me now and I’ll take you up to that waiting room, it's a little more comfortable and private than the corridors.”

“He’s going to be alright, then?”

“He’s going to be just fine.” She confirmed, waiting a second for you to grab your bag and swing it onto a shoulder, before she was setting off through the halls again, guiding you as she made her way towards the elevator. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve got him on some bags now, and his levels are steadying again, he’s starting to get some colour back, so we’re happy with that process, and his heartbeat is stronger.”

You watched as she pressed the button to signal the machine, silver doors reflecting back at you, and you felt positively exhausted as you slumped upon hearing the good news, tensions and adrenaline finally being able to slip away. “What about his legs?”

“Well, we won’t know much about any of it until he wakes up, and we can test his response to stimulus when the drugs in his system wear off and we can replace the anaesthetic with general medication, but the shattered leg has been set and is due to be wrapped in a cast, it’s all we can do, but it isn’t looking the best on the outcome.”

You winced, knowing there was nothing more you could have done, but you still hated to know what the repercussions might be. The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to the waiting room, and yet none of it was uncomfortable, she was simply a companion at your side who had brought you a little peace, and when you were of a more stable and clear mindset next time, you’d thank her properly for being so kind to you, and make a better effort to get to know the nurses here, but right now, you didn’t have the right headspace for anything other than taking it ten minutes at a time. 

“There’s not much more we can do now, it’s all about recovery, really. You did some great work out there, we’ve cleaned and applied new stitches to his wounds, I did it myself, and I promise they won’t burst any time soon.” You nodded your head, trying to absorb all the information that you could, but your mind was spinning, only focusing on the fact that he was going to be okay. “We’ll keep him in the hospital for a while, and check on him, his head has been patched up, luckily it was a crack and it hadn't splintered, so we’re happy with that.”

“When he comes out, will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, you can.” She turned to smile at you now, holding the doors open to a much nicer, and empty waiting room, you being the only person here, nobody flying past busily, phones ringing and conversations being had, it was calm and serene, and exactly what you needed. “Doctor Hale is going to come and talk to you more comprehensively himself while they get him all set up, and it shouldn’t take too long for the anaesthetic to wear off. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him started on some real painkillers that won’t knock him out.”

“Excellent.” You sighed, brushing yourself off for invisible dirt a story anxiety took over, before looking back to her. “Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you how much it all means to me.”

“It’s no trouble, truly.” She placed a comforting hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “You’re one of our own. Derek, uh, Doctor Hale, he feels like he really owes the fire department, so he would do pretty much anything for you all. House ‘21 was one of the firehouses involved in saving his family when there was a house fire. He has a big family, and he almost lost them a few years ago, this is the least he can do, he feels.”

You had no idea, you’d never been anywhere long enough to reap the seeds of good acts so far down the line, but you felt proud just to be able to associate yourself with the team, to be a member of Firehouse ‘21, even if you hadn't been there for that event. They were a great team, a wonderful group of people, and you were proud to be associated with them. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for the first time in a long time, your first thought wasn’t the next immediate escape route. 

“I’m going to head back in there, now. It shouldn't be much longer.”

You nodded, watching as she walked away, and leaving you alone in the peacefulness of the waiting room. There was a table, stacked up with magazines and a water machine in the corner, chilled and humming slowly, and you made your way over towards that firstly. Taking one of the flimsy little cups, you held it under the nozzle, pushing on the button of the cold water, and watching as it filled up, the temperature making your fingers cool as it moved toward the top. 

Taking it back over to one row of chairs, they were much more comfortable than the others, the hard plastic being replaced for soft cushioning, warm and inviting, and you slumped down into it. Shuffling through your bag, you were grateful to find the half-used try of painkillers you'd hidden in there for personal use, thanking a past version of yourself for thinking ahead, and popping two of the small tablets out, placed on your tongue and reaching for the cup. Several swigs of the water, until the cup was empty, washing them down and enjoying the cool feeling washing along your throat and soothing the burn, and you felt a little more refreshed immediately. 

This time, as you filled it up, you took a moment to observe the room you were in. A small, ornamental water fountain sat on one of the counters, soft sounds of trickling water as you neared it, and it was relaxing just to be around, stacks of little pebbles to create a water fountain, and blue lights to make the pool of water seem clearer, you lips flicking up at the sides. There was a radio, it wasn’t turned on and you didn’t intend to do so, but you admired its place here, the room filled with things all around so that there was something to calm and relax every type of person, no matter what their comfort was, and as you settled back down into the seats, you found you weren't quite so stressed anymore. 

Producing your phone from your pocket once again, you sipped at your water, the headache you had finally beginning to recede, and you replied to Brenda, a thumb swiping rapidly across the screen as you thanked her for her concern, and gave her an update that he was due out of surgery any time now. You replied to Newt too, once again thanking him profusely, as yet another batch of unrelated guilt began to make itself known, surfacing as you realised you’d just abandoned your partner to do all the work. 

Neither of them replied, both messages being left on ‘read’, and you simply hoped that they were having fun with the team, getting to relax and destress after a long day, and they weren’t torturing themselves in the same way that you were. 

The elevator chimed, not too far away, the other end of the corridor, and you paused. Following it, there was the sound of wheels, moving along the corridor, squeaking a little as a bed rattled, before fading away, and your heart leapt in your chest as you resisted the urge to stand up and look out, staying sat where you were. Your suspicions were confirmed, however, when the doors opened up, the doctor who you’d seen only a couple of hours ago appearing once again, and you pushed yourself up to your feet as fast as you could, meeting the doctor, who looked a little frazzled and worn out, but optimistic nonetheless. 

“Doctor Hale, hi.” 

He smiled a little, ducking his head. “You can call me Derek. I’m not your doctor.” Your cheeks heated a little bit, mumbling his name as you grew used to the feel of it in your mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So, you ready for that update?”

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, and he turned his body, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you back towards the doors. 

“How about I tell you on the way to the coffee machine, because I’m desperate for a double espresso, three times over.” You grinned, laughing lightly as you agreed, just the thought of such a drink making your mouth water, and you grabbed at your bag, swinging it onto one arm and letting it dangle as you followed behind him. He held the door open for you, guiding you through the halls, and you followed after him, falling into a comfortable pace beside one another. “First of all, do you happen to know his name? We can’t get anything up on file, and we can’t put him on medications until we know if he has allergies.”

“All I know is that he’s called Aaron, I think. He’s been here before, though, should be on file. I brought him in a couple of weeks ago for the injuries on his stomach.”

The man beside you nodded, taking the pen from his pocket and writing down the name on the back of his hand. “Alright, well, I’m pretty optimistic about how Aaron is doing. He’s all set up in an ICU room now, and as soon as he starts to come around, we can let you in to visit him. While you’re in there, we need you to try and get some contact details, his parents, anything like that, so we can try and get him on file, if we can’t find him in the system, but we have a lot of Aarons’.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“His leg is now in a cast, we set it as best we could, but there was more damage along his spine, so I’m not overly optimistic about that. I don’t know how bad the paralysis will be, but there’s definitely going to be some loss of movement there, he won’t make a full recovery, not from a fall like that with his injuries.” It wasn’t a surprise, you had been anticipating the worst, and so far, everything beyond being told he didn’t make it was just a blessing. Stopping before the coffee machine beside a nurses desk, the screen flashed to life as he swiped his card through the holder, greeting him with his ID on screen, and he began to program a selection of shots and syrups into the blend. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“My treat, let me buy you a coffee. I get a doctor discount on it anyway.” You couldn't resist the charming smile he gave you, shrugging a little and laughing under your breath. “Alright, Derek, surprise me. I’m not that fussy.”

“I take that as a challenge.” He confirmed, setting to work on making your brew, and as the machine hummed to life, he returned to the topic of your patient. “We pumped his stomach, we ran a few tests and flushed his system out. You might not like me too much when I tell you this, but with the contents of his stomach and the harm he got into as a minor, with nobody here to explain it, I have contacted the police and child authorities.”

“I don’t blame you, Doc. I really don’t. All I want for this kid is the best in life, I encouraged him to get out of that whole gang-lifestyle, I feel responsible for him even being here, and I-” You cut yourself off as you realised you were rambling, your lips pursing shut, and the coffee maker beside you beeped. He grinned, picking up the second coffee and handing it over to you, but only after pressing a plastic lid onto the top of the coffee cup. Bringing it up to your nose, the sweet smell of delicate spices and warm coffee filled your nose, and you hummed happily at the delicious blend. “Thank you.”

“Just so you know, you saved that kid’s life. You brought him here and he’s safe, you’ve done the best you can, and you did great.” You sighed, blowing at the steam on your coffee and taking a moment, a few deep breaths, settling yourself in the moment. “When he wakes up and starts to surface, we’ll let you know. If you give me your details, I’ll keep you updated on how he does.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for my number there, Doctor Hale?”

“I thought I told you to call me Derek.” He beamed, both of you knowing it was only a joke, before he was holding the pen from the pocket of his coat out for you and grabbing a piece of paper from the nurses stand. Placing down your coffee, you wrote down your name and number, handing it back over to him, and he looked at it for a moment, repeating your name, before putting it into his pocket. “You can head on back to the waiting room, and I’ll come and get you in a little while when he’s awake, and we’ve got him on something to keep the pain off.”

The device on his belt beeped, calling him away to another case, and he was leaving, a wave on his fingers as he picked up his coffee, and you were left to try and navigate your way back to the waiting room alone. 

There were signs up along the walls, but every turn you took felt more confusing, muted coloured walls and total silence feeling more like your new norm as you navigate the maze of pathways, letting out a relieved sigh as you finally caught sight of the same doors you’d come through earlier. There was movement behind them, your heart sinking a little as you realised the peaceful loneliness you had was broken, but you knew other people would be here to visit their families. 

Your bag would still be laying on the floor, where you’d left it before leaving to find coffee, and as you made you way back along, the people behind the glass became a little clearer. Blond hair, brown hair, strawberry and jet black. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped a little as you looked across the group, all eyes turning to face you, and your heart raced in your chest. 

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re pausing movie night!” Chuck was almost yelling, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, and several members of the team shushed him, while others snickered. “Sorry. We’re pausing movie night.”

“I see that, but, uh, why?”

A few looks were shared among the team, and Newt sighed, standing to his feet from where he’d been lounging in your chair. “Because we’re your team, and we care about you. You’re here for the kid, and we’re here for you.”

He took your coffee from your hands, sniffling it, and winking a little before raising it up to take a sip. His eyes widened a little, before he was gulping down another mouthful, and you snatched it back with a protesting noise.

“That’s good coffee. Where can I get one of those?”

“Doctors only.” You mumbled, a sweet smile on your lips as you took a sip, and he stared at you for a second. 

“Are you telling me you made a friend other than me? You really are getting comfortable here.”

You shook your head, pressing it back into his hands after another mouthful of coffee, gifting it to him. Brenda was holding her arms out to you, a sweet smile on her face as you paused for only a second, before falling into her arms and letting her wrap you up tightly. The moment you squeezed her back, there was another body wrapping around you, making the pair of you giggle as Chuck joined the hug, and you whined at the overwhelming heat that was encasing you when Newt joined in too. 

Elbowing yourself free, you wriggled out, popping free and finding the rest of the team still wearing sweet smiles, all standing around and waiting patiently. “Thanks for coming, you guys, it really means a lot to me.”

Settling down with the company of your team, Newt slumped beside you, a backpack of his own on the floor, and he picked it up, roping it down on your lap, and the weight of it winded you a little. 

“What was that for?”

“I brought you the clothes from your locker.” You raised a single brow, opening the bag and finding your hoodie and leggings inside, as well as your more comfortable trainers than the ones you wore to work, a little sigh leaving you. “Figured you’d want to be comfy, and you smell a little bit musty and bloody.”

Lifting the edge of your top to your nose, you took a whiff, faint traces being picked up, nothing overwhelming, but it certainly was present. Everybody else had changed their clothes as they left their kit at work, or went home to shower, but no matter what, you appreciated it all. 

“So, you gonna’ give us a little update on the kid?”

“Oh, yeah.” You wiped at your nose, feeling yourself get a little emotions, before pulling one leg up under yourself and turning to face him. “So, he’s doing alright. They’re worried about his legs, and they pumped his stomach, but they’re confident about his recovery and they’ve put a cast on his leg. He’s out of surgery now, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“What about his parents? They got in touch with them, right?”

“They haven’t got any information on him yet.” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “They want me to go in and ask him to give up his information as soon as he wakes up.”

“Well, look alive, because here comes a white coat with determination. A good looking one at that, dark hair, tall, I would be all over that if-” 

“Newt!” You hissed, the door opening, and he laughed himself into silence as he brought the coffee to his lips. Standing up, you gave him the bag back, making sure to drop it into his lap with equal the force he’d dropped onto yours, and he spluttered a little, glaring at you and kicking his leg out at you as you walked to meet the doctor. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, he is.” Derek spun on his heel, the two of you walking away towards the main doors, and you turned over your shoulder to scowl at your partner for the kick, a sugary-sweet and sly grin on his lips as you scoffed. “A lot of your friends have shown up, huh?”

“They’re my team, they came to support me.”

“Hey, I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged, guiding you along the halls. “So, he’s in a little pain, nothing awful yet as he’s still waking up, so he’s a sort of woozy. Focus on asking him his last name, if we can pull up his account we can see his allergies and get him some meds, but if he doesn't want to give it up, we need to know about the medicines.”

“What do I tell him when he starts asking questions?”

“We’re going to test his reflexes as soon as we get his medicine sorted but before it kicks in, though they may not be fully comprehensive on the total movement and reflex he can get back.” He stopped outside of the door, and peering in through the glass, you could see the young boy. The hair from the top of his head was shaved away, around the sides too, black locks were gone and bandaging wrapping his head. He was clad in a gown, and the blankets were tucked up around his body, staring up at the rod as he frowned, looking entirely displaced. “Press the button on the side of his bed when you’re ready for us to come in, I’ll wait at the nurses’ station.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He dipped his head in a nod, taking a step back, and you entered the room. He lifted his head slowly, confusion on his features for a second as you clicked the door shut, before he was huffing again. 

“Hey, kiddo, how you feelin’?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, words a little slurred, and you took a seat beside his bed, pulling the chair over, and his head rolled from one side to the other, cheek pressing to the pillow to look at you, but his gaze was unfocused. “My arm is itchy.”

“That’s just your drip line for meds, you’ll be fine.” He made a shocked face, as though you’d reveal the secrets of the universe to him, before his face was screwing up again.

“I hurt a bit too. Everywhere.”

“I know, and we can get you some meds, alright?” He nodded his head, silence falling around you both again, and he was using one hand to scratch at the bedding, toying with the loose thread in the beige blanket, and sighed. “You gonna’ tell me your last name, so we can get you registered and checked in on the system?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call my foster parents.” Your heart stopped for a moment in your chest, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse for him, you found out the poor kid was in the system, no wonder he’d turned to family wherever he could get it. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Don’t you think they’re worried? You’re going to be here for a while.”

“They’ll be disappointed in me.” He whispered, and you reached out, taking the young boy’s hand in your own, and squeezing lightly. “They’ll bring my little sister, she thinks I’m brave and strong.”

“And she’ll still think that!” He huffed, rolling his eye sin denial and tuning to stare back up at the ceiling. “I get how it feels to not want to let someone down, and to feel alone. I have moved between so many firehouses to find my home, and I’m still looking. I have, like, no friends outside of work.”

“What about your blond friend?”

“He’s a work friend, that doesn't count.” You teased, and he turned to look at you again.

“Do you hang out outside of work?” You paused, thinking on the people who were filling the waiting room right now, simply to support you, and you wondered if that counted, but the boy seemed to be going on anyway; “See, outside friends.”

“Alright, smart ass, the point is that I understand how you feel, and you should let me call your parents, so that you can have people who love you here with you. What do you say?” He was quiet, the moment dragging on, and as the cogs in the clock ticked loudly, the ‘second’ hand moving around, and as the third minute of silence passed you by, you gave up on any hope, You wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his eyes having slipped shut, and you squeezed his hand a little, his hand squeezing back after a few moments, signalling he was awake. 

“Edge.”

“Huh?” You perked up a little, your elbow having been resting on the bed to support your head on your fist, before you were moving to look up at him. 

“My name is Aaron Edge. I’m already in the system, I had asthma as a kid.” You cheered a little, reaching around for the handle instantly and pressing the button for the nurse’s desk. 

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The door opened a second later, a short red-head nurse escorting Doctor Hale, his brows raising a little as they came in, and you gave him a subtle nod. “This is Aaron Edge, and he’d love some painkillers now.”

“We’ll get that sorted out. This is nurse Martin, she’ll be looking after you, Mr Edge.” She left the room a second later, heading away to get it sorted out, and the doctor took a step closer to the bed. “How are you feeling, big guy? You gave us a scare there, but you're brave, and I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“I have a headache, and I feel itchy. Is that just my nerves?”

He tried to push himself up a little in the bed, his arms giving way under the pressure, and you moved, helping him sit up so you could position his pillows behind him to help him sit up. “Well, actually, that’s the beginning of the withdrawal. It’s not going to be great, but you’re young. We can get you in a great rehab program, and whatever you were on we can get you off. You’re young, you still have prospects ahead of you. It’ll be a tough road, you think you can do it?”

His hand tightened around yours once again, and he turned, vulnerability written on his face. You gave him a nod, and he stared at you for a second longer, before returning to give those same gestures to the doctor. 

“Now, I just need to run a final test, alright?” Producing the pen from his pocket, he lifted up the blanket to reveal both of the boy’s feet, and held the end to the pen, never popping the button to reveal the inked tip. “Relax your foot for me.”

He did so and he dragged the tip of the pen up along the sensitive underfoot, everything still for a second, before his toes twitched, and you let out a little cheer, the boy in the bed jumping in shock. “What?”

“You still have movement in that foot?”

“Did I not before?” He panicked, sitting up further to peer down at his legs, and it seemed that in his drowsy state, he was only just becoming aware of the cast wrapped around his leg. “What about the other one?”

The cast sealed over most of his foot, but Derek reached down with the pen, dragging it along the space under his toes, and there was no movement. He did it again, still no reaction, and you nibbled on your lower lip. “Tell me when you feel something?”

Moving the blanket from his body, his leg was exposed, the cast ending just below his knee. He poked at the knee cap, then a rough inch further up, moving in inch segments as you waited, before his leg finally flinched just after the pen pressed over his mid-thigh. 

“Well, we can get you into some physical therapy, and see how the healing of your leg goes, and what happens after that.”

Tucking the pen back away, the red-headed nurse entered the room once again, a needle and a small glass jar in her hand, and she was ready to add some medicine to the bag for him. “I’ve called your family, and they’re on their way. I’ve got some medicine for you now.” You squeezed his hand again lightly, letting go as the nurse moved to start setting him up a new line for his medicine, and Derek was busy filling out details on the chart that sat at the end of his bed. 

“I’m going to go back to my team now, alright?” The kid turned to look at you, nodding his head slowly. “You keep your promise this time, alright? I believe in you, do it for your little sister. Be better.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” 

You ran your hand over his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. As the medicine began to kick in, nurse Martin began to talk to Aaron about his family, and what had been said on the phone, and for the third time tonight, you were navigating the ICU wing halls. Stepping back into the waiting room, all eyes turned to you again, brows raising, and you nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. 

“He’s going to be okay, and his family is on the way.”

A chorus of cheers took up around the room, and you nodded your head watching as they all began to get to their feet, coming over to offer their congratulations and comforts about how worried you’d been, and how much better you must be feeling, which was completely true. 

Newt cupped your face, pressing a large and wet kiss to your forehead, and you scowled, wiping the mark on your skin. “I think you need a drink, love.”

“Kenny’s Bar?” Gally offered, and a series of acknowledgements and agreements going up around the room. You’d heard them talking about that bar before, it seemed to be a house favourite but you’d never been along with them before, and it felt like some kind of initiation ritual or rite of passage. 

“You should go and change first. Get comfy, I’ll wait for you.”

“Actually, if you guys go on ahead, I’ll wait.” Thomas stood to the side, scratching at the back of his neck as he met your eye, shrugging a little before looking around the small group gathered around you, who seemed equally as shocked as you were. “Seriously, I mean it. We have some things to talk about.”

“We do?” You questioned dumbly, and he fixed you with a pointed look, before you nodded your head. “Right, sure, yeah, okay. I can work with that, I guess. I mean, if you don’t see me in the next twelve hours, you know who I was with last.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt eyes his friend sceptically, the two seeming to have a silent conversation all with that eye contact, before Newt was rounding everyone up. “Go get changed, don’t take too long, we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged you gently, before guiding the rest of the team out of the building, pats on your arm and squeezes of your hand as they all passed by and discussed who would be designated drivers and drop everyone else at home, each discussing driving their cars home and coming along to collect them as they went. You waved Newt’s bag at Thomas a little, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, and he nodded his head, tension forming between you both as you slipped away to find the bathrooms. 

You were already learning your way around the halls of this building well, locating them easily enough, and stepping inside. Pulling out the contents of the beg, you sealed yourself inside one of the cubicles, putting the lid down and taking a seat on top of it. Toeing off your shoes and leaving them on the floor, you were wiggling out of your crisp uniform trousers, slipping into your leggings, bouncing as you tugged them up your legs and wiggling as you got comfortable. With some simple sneakers and your hoodie on, you were feeling much more relaxed and comfortable. 

Stuffing everything else inside of the bag, you zipped it up, heading back to the waiting room, and finding Thomas with his hands shoved into his pockets, your bag on his shoulder, and he offered you what looked only mildly like a forced smile as you made your presence known. 

“Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded his head, letting you go through the door first as you stepped into the halls and back towards the elevator, total silence sitting in the space between you both. As he pressed the button, it was almost immediately ready for you, and you stood on opposite sides of the box as you waited for the doors to close again and sink back to the lobby. “So is this the part where you decide the hatred is too much, and actually kill me?”

He laughed, a lightweight and short, but genuine, laugh. Looking up to you, he shook his head a little, amusement still sparking in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I don’t necessarily like you, but that's because I don’t know you, and I didn’t really give myself the chance. We got off on the wrong foot, and that's partially my fault.”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“It’s, like, fifty percent my fault!” He argued, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head. 

“Ninety.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Fine.” You huffed, surrendering to the deal again, and he gave a toothy grin. “Go on with what you were saying.”

The doors chimed as they opened up, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you began to head towards the doors to the building, letting him guide you as he headed towards his car, trying to form his words, and you waited patiently. “Look, the point is, I know you’ve been a good partner to Newt. Especially today. You went down there to look after that kid because you knew Newt couldn't take it, and while he’d never admit that to either of us, we both know it’s true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We flipped a coin, and I lost.”

“Do you always flip winning sides over to take a loss?” He questioned, clicking his keys as the sleek black car came into view, and your face flushed with warmth, not having known anyone else had seen that. “Exactly my point. I know I’ve given you a hard time. I have my reasons, okay? It fucking sucks, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I’m trying to apologise, okay?”

He held the door open for you, the passenger seat readily available, and you dropped your bag into the footwell, standing in the way but not taking a seat as you stared up at him. “Okay. I forgive you. I probably shouldn't have been so uptight, but I was hurt too, and I didn’t take that well, so I guess this is me apologising as well.”

“So, we’re cool, now?”

“Sure.” 

He nodded, the two of you staring at each other for a moment longer, and that same dreadfully awkward tension settled over the part of you as neither of you knew quite what to say. Just because you’d called a ceasefire, didn’t mean that there was a sudden connection, it didn't mean that pain and resentment were gone immediately, it just meant that you had agreed to process and move on from it together, instead of dwelling and letting it fester. “Her name was Teresa.”

“What?”

Your eyes snapped back up to his face, but he was staring at the ground, arms resting on top of the door, and he was picking at his nails. “The last paramedic, the reason I was so mad.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I owe you an explanation, so I guess I’m forcing myself to.” He sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “She was.. a wildcard. Passionate and funny and just this real source of energy, you know? Kinda’ like you. She skipped out on us all of a sudden before shift one day, a better offer somewhere else, she didn’t tell us, but she just up and left. I was hurt, I thought I meant something to her.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas..”

“No, I am. Because all my suffering was emotional. She was Newt’s partner, he had to try and handle a case on his own because we couldn't get a replacement in before a call came, and that's the day he injured his leg. He fell through a couple of burning floors, top to bottom of the building, shattered his leg like that kid. Nobody knew where he was, he had no partner to call it in. Minho found him, unconscious from smoke inhalation and carried him out.” He let out a shaky breath, and you dared to reach out, placing a hand over his as they sat joined, and squeezing lightly. “I don’t blame myself for the accident, it had nothing to do with me. But, for whatever your own reasons are, I know you’ve jumped between houses a lot, and I was worried about Newt again. He’s my best friend.”

“I promise you, I won’t ever do that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Teresa would either, but then a better offer came along.” He sighed, lifting a thumb to rest over one of your fingers and stroke lightly as he sought his one comfort from your touch, and you squeezed his hands once again. “I shouldn't have compared you to her, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, I don’t even know you.”

Quit consumed you both once again, and there was nothing else to be said, only the weight of his confession hanging in the air, before you were perking up a little, realising how to gently move on and bring his mood back up. “You any good at pool?”

“Uh, what?”

“You know, pool. In bars. Does this bar have one?” You encouraged, his eyes meeting yours again and brows furrowing with confusion. 

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, you said you didn’t know anything about me. First thing to learn is that I’m amazing at pool.” He stood up a little more, smiling softly as he took your bait to move on from the conversation, and there was a slight twinkle of mischief in those honey-brown eyes. “Winner buys drinks?”

“Alright, I’ll take that deal, but only if we play darts afterwards. At which I will kick your ass, because I am fucking great at it.”

“You’re on, Thomas.” He chuckled, letting you step into the car and shutting the door behind you, the conversation being stored away for now, to think about when you were alone and process the details, but for now, you had bonding to do, with your teammates; for the first time yet, you genuinely considered the possibility of setting up roots somewhere, and making real friends that would last. 

[pretoriafics]

Russian Roulette - Pt. 2

In this series, you will find Alternative Universe, Soulmate plot, Angst, Fluff. In this chapter, you will find: You met the creepy man from the black car, finally! But things began to get weird for you. Word count: 1.560 Pairings: Reader x Derek Original characters of this chapter: Bennie, your host mom; A weird ginger lady Warnings: English is not my main language <3 Yeah, it was based on Russian Roulette by Rihanna Russian Roulette series: Chapter One | Chapter Three RUSSIAN ROULETTE MASTERLIST TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

You were without a sign of clues.

Well, you were pretty sure that the creepy guy who was talking with Scott and Stiles that day at the school had the answers you were asking for. However, you don't even know his name, and do this question to Scott and Stiles wasn't a viable option. They will never tell you anything about it. You have just one choice: To stay alert and watch things as close as you can.

But, you know, sometimes things happen funnily. The universe has a weird sense of humor.

You were driving through the city in the afternoon, going to get the girls from ballet, and thinking about a plan or something that you could do. Beacon Hills was a tiny city, so if you find out the name of that guy, you could look for a few pieces of information about him. Actually, you were so absorbed in your own thoughts that you just didn't saw the traffic lights become red. The car in front of you stopped, but you didn't stop the car. In fact, when you saw the red light, your eyes got wider and you stepped into the car brake. The loud sound of the tire sliding in the asphalt echoed through the entire street, and your car crashed in the back of the car in front of you.

God, you were so fucked up! You had just screwed the car of your host family! Sebastian and Barbara will be so upset with you!

Immediately, you come out of the car with your face red with anxiety and anger. How could you be so inattentive? But when you saw a man coming out of the car, the color of your face changed from red to white in fear.

You'd just hitten in a black car. A Camaro, you thought without sure. The man was that creepy guy, who you saw talking with Scott and Stiles. Oh, God. You felt your stomach fell in fear, and you froze. He will take a gun to point of you, you are pretty sure about it!

But instead of it, he just looked at you, watching you attentively. His face still looks serious.

"You okay?"

Well, at least he is a polite criminal. Which market does he work at? Is he a drug dealer? A killer? Or he's some kind of... pimp? But why Scott and Stiles would get into a deal or something like that with a pimp?

He doesn't sound like a pimp for you. Actually, he seems like a killer. Maybe he is a killer and a drug dealer...

You breathe in deeply and finally replies him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry! I don't have so much time with a driver's license. You okay?"

"I noticed that." His eyes become narrowed, and he gave you a discreet smile "Don't worry about me, I'm okay."

He looks at the damage done, and you follow his gaze. Fortunately, you stepped into the car brake soon enough to get just a little smash on both cars. Of course, your low speed helped to minimize the damage.

"Oh, God." You complain, letting out a long sigh. "Wait."

You went back to your car and took a pen and a post-it from the glove compartment. You weren't giving him your phone number just for being fair with him about the accident. It was just an excuse to, finally, find out his name. Quickly, you wrote your name with your phone number and gave the post-it for him.

"Could you give me your phone number? I'll fix your car, don't worry." He told you the numbers, slowly, and you could make the one million dollar question. "Okay. What's your name?"

"Derek Hale."

Oh my gosh, now you know his name! You would finally find out what the heck is going on.

"Alright. I'll send you a message to talk about the car. And sorry!"

Well, you were a lucky Au Pair. Your host family didn't get angry with you. Actually, they were happy you were okay and said that you don't have to worry about the car fix costs. It was great because 200 dollars per week as a salary really wasn't too much money. They just asked you to be careful while driving.

After taking a look at the girls, you ran to your room on the second floor, the last room in the corridor. Quickly, you took the laptop and begun to search on the internet about Derek. You found a piece of news, who was talking about a fire in a house. Reading that news, you found out that it was his house. Almost everybody died, except for Derek and his uncle, Peter, who is actually hospitalized in a clinic, with his whole body burnt.

Well... Maybe you were being unfair to him. It is such a sad history! But you need to continue your search. You need to prove yourself he isn't a criminal or some sort of it because, in the end, you need to protect your boys.

The next day, you were at a restaurant, lunching with Barbara, your host mom, and boss. You call her lovingly Bennie, and she was born and raised in Beacon Hills. If there's one that probably would know about Derek, that person would be her.

"So, Bennie... What about the car fixing?"

"Oh, dear, don't worry about that." She looks at you with a soft smile. "I'd talked with Hale about it. Everything is solved."

"Uh, really? That's great! And what do you know about him?"

Barbara was more than a boss. She was your friend, your second mom. And, sometimes, like every mom, she had the power to let you embarrassed. She was doing it right now, looking at you suggestively.

"Oh, you're interested in him? Why you didn't tell me before? I would talk with him about you! I don't judge you, I mean, all that bad boy kind... Wow! Don't lose this opportunity, girl!"

Bennie has the amazingly cringe-worthy manner ever: she loves to show you a few guys, telling you to call them to date. It wasn't being different now that you're asking her questions about Hale.

"Gosh, Bennie!" You laugh "Luckily Sebastian is not here."

"Well, I met Derek's mom once. He reminds me of her... You know, with all of that 'sweet' personality." Bennie gave a soft smile for you. "But she was a good person. Her name was Talia. Derek was out of the town since a few time ago but seems he came back. I didn't know about it." Bennie narrowed her eyes and gave you a large smile "And you know what? I think Talia would love to meet you!"

"Jesus Christ, Bennie, stop!" You hide your face with one of your hands, blushing while Bennie laughs about your reaction.

"You!"

A female voice came out of nowhere. A ginger woman, with a red dress, approaches you and Bennie. She seems so... Impressed. And she was looking at you.

"Can I help you?" You said, confused.

"I know what are you looking for, (Y/N)."

You froze. How did she know about your name? You had never, ever seen that woman in your entire life.

"...I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"Look for Haytham." She took a pen from her bag and wrote an address on a napkin from the table. A cold shiver ran down your spine when you noticed that her eyes were so empty and distant as a dead body's eyes. "He's a priest. But look at me, child: You are in a decisive moment of your life. You have two paths to choose from. If you continue to look for answers, you will know the truth and the truth is not what you're expecting. This truth will change your life forever, and your life will become a truly Russian roulette, girl. But if you give up on the call of Selene, and give up on your search, your life will be peaceful, but you will spend the entire life knowing that you lost something and you will never know what it is. You will look for something for the rest of your life that you know it's yours, but you will never find it. The choice is yours."

At this moment, you were so terrified, that you have cringed in the chair. Bennie was equally scared, and she was already looking around for some help. Everyone was looking at the table you were on.

Suddenly, after look at you with her dead eyes, the woman fell to the floor, unconscious. Bennie got up from the chair while everybody was looking at the woman, terrified and worried. Bennie instructed you.

"Call an ambulance!"

Terrified and with your hands shaking, you followed her ask while Bennie was watching the lady. As a doctor, Bennie could give her first aid until the ambulance comes in. But when Bennie took the woman's wrist, she contracted her lips in anxiety. Immediately, Bennie put her hands in the woman's chest and...

Oh, Gosh, she was trying to resuscitate the woman.

Bennie was doing a few chest compressions on the woman, which is obviously wasn't a good sign. After a few trying, Bennie shakes her head negatively. Nervous, you asked for her.

"She will be okay?"

Bennie contracts her lips.

"No, (Y/N). She's dead."

[adamwatchesmovies]

Zoolander (2001)

With its wall-to-wall, absurdly stupid characters, you wouldn't expect any legitimate wit or intelligence from Zoolander but that would be a mistake. It's an enjoyable, endlessly quotable, and memorable satire of the fashion industry.

Derek Zoolander (Ben Stiller) is a self-absorbed, world-famous, good-natured but not dim-witted male fashion model. After he hits rock bottom, he becomes embroiled in a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister of Malaysia.

Writers Drake Sather and Ben Stiller (who also directs) get far more material out of the concept of "dumb fashion models" than you'd think was possible. Derek Zoolander misunderstands crucial information and uses words he doesn’t understand. His rival Hansel (Owen Wilson) is the kind of would-be spiritualist that thinks he’s deep because he’s base jumped half a dozen times and has slept with women from all around the world. The man behind the conspiracy, Jacobim Mugatu (Will Ferrell) has a plan so dumb it might just work. Zoolander pulls you into this world where intelligence is undesirable because the fashion industry is all about being shallow. The joke could get old quickly, but we’re given several straight men and women to make this absurdity hilarious. Journalist Matilda Jeffries (Christine Taylor) is us. She’s the one that asks “why would never wear that? There’s only about 5$ worth of material in that shirt so how can it cost $1,000?”. In this world, that's the kind of question no one can answer because it's scratching the surface of what you should be questioning. She knows what's at stake but unfortunately, her intelligence means it'll all fall upon deaf ears.

Zoolander is filled with big laughs, the kind you can't wait to share with your friends so you can quote the scenes to each other after. There’s an incident at a gas station so silly it's impossible to forget. Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood will never sound the same, "What is this? A *blank* for ants?!" will become part of your vernacular. Traditional romantic comedy conventions are amusingly turned on their heads, to the audience’s delight. I'm going to single out the old “frumpy attractive woman who just needs to put her hair down” cliché as a favorite. Will Ferrell is used in just the right amount, as are several other comedians and celebrities who could've easily been annoying.

I’ll fault Zoolander for two things. The first is a lame erection joke that's as absurd as the Magnum look and the "janitor makeup” scene but is more than a bit embarrassing to watch. The second flat is some clumsy exposition delivered by two characters who disappear once their info dump is done. When you look at those isolated moments, you wonder if the script was rushed because they’re sloppy in an otherwise consistent film.

If it's been a while since you've watched Zoolander, give it another watch. It holds up well and even if you think you've seen/memorized all of its best gags, there are some I know you've missed. Pay attention to what's happening in the background and you'll find some new favorites, maybe even one you can get your friends to add their Rolodex. (On DVD, February 15, 2016)

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

*

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

*

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

*

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

*

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

[criminally--reid]

breath play

the spencer fic I've been talking about for weeks lmao

Warnings: dom!spencer, breath play, degredation, being tied up, praise, dirty talk, (this ended up being a lot less intense than I anticipated lmao my b I guess :/ )

Pairing: spencer x fem! reader

Word count: 3.2k (3,203)

○•○•○•○

A sexualsadist serial killer in Wisconsin fulfilling his ‘bdsm’ fantasies by foreplaying with his victims and unfortunately asphyxiating and stabbing them. How fun. 

Reid had been suspiciously uninvolved in this case. Well.. as uninvolved as the most intelligent member of the team could be without ruining the operation. Quick blurbs of information only adding general details to the case; nothing to narrow anything down. No constantly working on the case. When Reid wasn’t needed it’s almost like he wasn’t even there. Oddly distant; his mind was always somewhere else. Something about this case in particular bothered him. It was so unlike the doctor to be so uninterested in a case. Normally, he let the case swallow him whole; engulfing him in his entirety. Mind, body, and soul set on finding the missing pieces and solving the puzzle… but not this one. 

“Something on your mind, Spence?” I ask, sitting down opposite him on the jet; finally able to relax after a long day in the field. 

“Did you know the average person only has sex about two times a week. Things like culture, health, and social status all effect how as well as how often people have sex. But still, just about twice a week on average.” 

“There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’m just gonna say ‘no.’” Spencer chuckles, and I join in. 

“Seriously though. You’ve been so distant lately. Like something about this one in particular has been bothering you.” 

“I mean.. Murder cases aren’t something I often enjoy, so yeah, this whole ordeal has been kind of bothersome.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Spence.” 

“It’s just that-” he contemplates for a moment before patting the seat beside him for you to accompany him. You do so, and he leans toward you, so he can whisper. “I really, really hated this case… as you could tell- obviously. I- I’ve been thinking about how the unsub used aspects of foreplay before killing his victims - you know, the tying-up and the asphyxiation stuff - and about the stuff I’ve been kinda interested in.” 

You mull over everything Reid’s just said. It’s not such a longshot surprise to you. I mean with the degradation on the first encounter and the handcuffs the second, you weren’t really taken aback with what he was hinting at. “I’m gonna ask again. What exactly is bothering you, pretty boy?” 

He sighs and closes his eyes; brown knitted together tightly. Whatever he’s about to say is going to come out really fast, and you prepare yourself to catch and process it all. “I’ve been thinking about how I fantasize about choking and degrading and tying up my partner and all that stuff, but with this case - this- this monster using that to inturn kill people - what if that’s me? What if I take things too far? You know my mother’s schizophrenic; what if I’m dangerous?-” 

“Woah, Spence, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with being a li’l’ freaky. Just because someone used things like that to fulfill their murderous fantasies doesn’t make you a bad person. And just because there’s a possibility that you’re carrying schizophrenia, doesn’t automatically make you dangerous; you know that. There's nothing to worry about, Spence. I promise.” You put your hand on his thigh for reassurance. He places his hand a top yours, lightly tapping his fingertips on the back of your hand. 

“Can we try something?” he asks quickly, making and holding eye contact with you for the first time since this conversation started. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you asking to choke me?” I ask fake flabbergasted. “Are you really asking to-” 

“You know what, nevermind. At this point, I’d rather choke myself.” 

“That was a joke, Spencer,” you say rolling your eyes. “But when? Now?” 

“Wow, eager are we?... I was thinking more like when we land and head home for the night. We wouldn’t want to risk the rest of the team waking up to sounds of you being a pathetic mess for me, now would we?” 

“N-No, sir. Of-of course not,” you gulp, taking notice of how his dominant personality is already taking shape before you. 

“Perfect. We land in thirty.” He pats your thigh and turns away from you, returning to the book he was reading prior to. He motions for you to return to your seat across from him, and as you do so, he looks up at you sending a wink your way before he returns to his book indefinitely; allowing the anticipation and excitement to course through your veins for the next thirty minutes. 

The landing comes soon, and the team moves to grab their stuff; eager to get home and relax for the night. You grab your bag and hurry off the plane, dragging along behind emily. 

“What were you and Reid talking about?” Prentiss turns around suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“I, un, I thought you all were asleep..” 

“Eh, I was in limbo I guess; you know. I just heard him rambling and hoped he was okay.” 

“Oh yeah. He’s fine. Just uh- just something in the book he’s reading.” 

“That’s good,” she smiles and continues off the plane. 

You turn around when you feel a hand drag down the curve of your ass. You glare at Reid and mouth ‘you fucker’ to which he chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Hey, y/n/,” Derek says walking over to your desk as you put your files away and zip up your go-bag. “Garcia, Emily, and I are goin’ out tonight. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.. But I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?” 

“Yeah forsure,” morgan replies before looking at Spencer, silently asking if he’d like to join them. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to pass, too. I think I’m gonna memorize a book instead.”  

“Whatever, boy genius,” Morgan replies with a laugh. “We’ll be missing you guys.” He fake frowns before heading out with Emily and Garcia. 

“Wait for me!” JJ calls in a sing-song voice as she rushes to catch up with the rest of the group, slinging her arm around Garcia’s shoulders. “To the bar!” she exclaims and they all laugh before finally leaving the office.  

The clicking of a pen catches your attention and becomes even more prominent in your senses the closer it gets to your desk. You look up from your desk to see said pen held in none other than Spencer’s very attractive, fidgety hands. 

“So,” he drags out, tossing the pen onto your desk with a light clank. 

“Is there something you need, Doctor Reid?” you pry, looking at him innocently through your lashes from your seat at your desk. 

“You.” 

“Well,” you begin, standing up out of your chair to stretch. “Lucky for you I just declined the amazing offer to go out, all so I could spend tonight with you.” 

“Mhmm.. Lucky me,” Spencer replies lowly and looks you up and down, drinking you in. Absorbing your beauty. Somehow after two long days of working in the field, you managed to be drop dead gorgeous. Absolute perfection in his eyes. 

“Your place or my place?” you ask, maneuvering from behind your desk to in front of it. 

Spencer looks at his watch. “It’s only.. Ten thirty. I’d say we have time for both.” 

“My house it is,” you chuckle and turn around, earning a firm slap on the ass from Spencer. A shockwave of pleasure runs straight to your center, and you gasp. Closing up your currently case file, you turn back around and your eyes lock with Spencer, who’s smiling back at you innocently. 

You throw on your jacket and toss your go-bag over your shoulder. Spencer laces his fingers with yours as you walk out of the building and to your cars. You feel the excitement swell inside your belly. Racing back to your house to let none other than your colleague ravage you like a wild animal. Desire and lust driven, taking your clothes off followed by his; hands grazing up and down your sides, raising chill bumps in their wake. You can feel it now. His touch. The wetness pooling beneath you, soaking your underwear through. The arousal bumps already beginning to slowly creep down your arms and up over your chest. There was no way in hell you could get home fast enough. 

You finally arrive at the parking garage that accompanies your apartment building; Reid quick in tow, parking right beside you. He clambers out of his car before you get the chance, and he comes to meet you at your car door. The two of you race up tp your apartment, eager to rip each other’s clothes off. 

The door shuts, and it's game over. Spencer's hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it up over your head and tossing it on the floor. Your back meets the cool surface of the door, goosebumps rippling down your back. Reid's lips attach to yours as his fingertips dance around the bumpy terrain of your back. Your hands travel up and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly making him groan. He fights for dominance over the kiss and you allow him in. As his tongue dances with yours, savoring your taste, his hands soon find solace at the waistband of your pants as he unbuttons them and drops them to the floor with a light thud; exposing your already-soaked panties. 

Spencer's lips roam from their start of your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You catch your breath as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders and down your arms; dipping his supple lips further into the valley of your breasts. 

A shaky breath escapes your plump lips as he draws your lips nipple into his mouth; excitement flowing to the now erect bud as he switches to the other one, doing the same. He releases your right nipple and comes back up to meet your eyes. His lust and hunger filled expression softens to one of passion. You move your trembling fingers to the too button on his lavender button-up as his lips meet yours once again. 

Soon, all his clothes accompany yours in disarray over the floor, and the two of you are waltzing over to the bed; you landing on it softly with a light thud. 

"Look at you," he says slowly from his position at the foot of the bed; standing, glistening in his pre-sex glory before you. "All laid out on display for me." You subconsciously pull your thighs closer together, trying to conceal your wetness. Slowly, he begins his crawl onto the bed, hovering over you and lowering his lips to your ear. "Don't hide from me." 

Retracting his face, your reach up and gently trail your fingertips over his cheek, drinking all his features of perfection."Spencer." The delicate sound passed through your soft lips as Spencer swiftly moves to encompass them with his. Gnawing on your bottom lip gently with his skillful teeth before pulling away and whispering, "It's Dr. Reid." 

He begins his travels back down to your area, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he pushes your thighs apart; a string of your arousal stretching between the two. Collecting it his forefinger, then lifting it to his mouth, he wraps his lips around the digit relishing in the taste of you before delving into your core. 

You buck your hips, aching for more contact; more friction. Spencer's hands wrap up and around your thighs, holding you to the point where you can't move. 

"Doctor Reid.. please." The sound tumbles quickly from your mouth before you even know what you're asking for. Your head falls to the pillow and your mouth gaped in ecstasy. Your hands fly from their positions at their sides and tangle in Reid's hair, desperately trying to pull him just a little closer to your center. 

Reid groans as you pull at his roots, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the depths of you. So close to the edge already, just from Spencer using his tongue. Almost falling over the edge… 

But then he pulls away. 

"Mnnguh, Spencer," you draw out, the pout apparent in your voice. 

"No touching, princess." His face glistens with your slick, and you quiver at the sight momentarily before he collects all your juices onto the back of his hand, making eye contact the entire time.he licks it off; savoring every last drop of your sweetness. 

He clambers out of the bed leaving you frustrated and aching for that release that you so close to seconds ago. You watch as he stands facing away from you - his delicious back on display - as he scans the room. After a moment of deep contemplation, he goes over to your bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope. 

You didn't appreciate how he knew where your stuff was. However, you couldn't blame him. You were profilers after all, and he probably knew more things about you than you knew yourself. 

Spencer smirks at you on his way back over to the bed. You follow him with your eyes as he takes each of your wrists and ties them together and to the headboard. "What's your word?" 

"M-my word?" you stumble over the question as your met face to face with Dr. Reid once again. 

"Your uh safeword. Whenever anything's too much, just say it, and I'll stop." 

Knowing what Spencer was capable of, you weren't sure you'd ever want him to stop. Nonetheless, you pick a word. "Purple." More specifically, the lavender purple button up that Spencer wears. The color that - no matter where you see it - you associate with him. 

"Purple it is," reid replies cheekily, once more descending to your dripping core. 

You writhe beneath him in pleasure and his skillful tongue and fingers bring you to your second orgasm. "D-doctor Reid, ple-please." 

"Please what? Use your words, y/n." 

"God- fuck! Reid, fuck me please. I n-need you-" 

"Look at you," he says as his eyes drink in the sight before him: his co-worker, needy and begging beneath him. "Such a pretty slut. Begging to be fucked by her co-worker. Do you really want me to fuck you y/n? You want my cock deep inside your pretty pussy?" 

You feverishly nod your head, but the answer isn't enough for Spencer. "Say it," he seethes by your ear through gritted teeth with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, slowing your breath intake. 

"I.. want your cock.. insi..de me, D-doctor R-reid," you struggle to form the plea. 

His hand still around your neck; fingers lightly pressing onto your airways, but now at arms length as he uses his other to trace your folds with the tip of his member.  He slips into you easily, and you involuntarily close your eyes; the pleasure consuming you from the inside out. His thrusts agonizingly slow as he relishes in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him. 

"Spencer-" 

"What's my name?" 

"Dr. Reid, please go.. faster. God please- fuck!" 

"Gah, such a needy whore, hm. Taking my cock so well. I bet this is what you were thinking about all day. Isn't it?" He speeds up his pace tenfold, rendering you speechless; reaching the deepest parts of you, almost tossing you over the edge once more. "Mmh, gonna cum for me? Don't hold back, baby. Let go for me." 

And on cue, you release around him, your juices seeping down your thighs and dampening the bedsheets beneath the two of you. 

His pace never slowing down, and his grip on your throat doesn't ease up any either. Your air supply is running low, but you don't care. The sight before you is enough to send you barreling into the abyss of euphoric pleasure. Spencer above you, his sweat-coated torso as arms length and his features contorted in pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you. 

You admire the god holding himself armslength away from you. The sweat glazing over his torso and dripping fro his forehead. His eyes squinted and mouth agape in pleasure. You clench around him once.more as your fourth orgasm threatens to erupt.

"God fuck." His disgruntled voice coming in as music to your ears. "So fucking tight. You- you gonna cum again, huh? Dirty slut. Cum for me, baby." 

Your forth orgasm rushes over you like a tsunami. Strangled obscenities, moans and groans escape your mouth. You can't take any more. His grip on your throat has barely let up any since he started. And your orgasm count was insane. No one had ever gotten you over four times. The pleasure was more than intense, and you weren't sure how much longer you could last. 

"...purple…" you whisper as your vision goes spotty. 

A look of worry replaces Spencer's previous pleasure-apparent expression. He quickly removes his hand from your throat and pulls out of you. 

"Shit.. shit. Shitshitshit! A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck. I'm so sorry. Really, I never meant to-" Spencer nervously rambles on as you take a much needed deep, refreshing breath. 

"I know. Spencer, shut up. It's okay. Just please keep going." 

"Y-you sure?" 

You nod feverishly urging him to continue. He re-enters you slowly, filling you all the way up. You arch into him, meeting his agonizingly slow thrusts. "Mmh.. faster, Doctor Reid, please!" 

His pace returns to as it was before. The squelching sound and skin slapping against skin echos through the room once more. One hand white-knuckles the sheets while the other one reaches for Spencer's hand at your side. Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back up to your throat, wanting so desperately for him to choke you again. He makes eye contact with you - as if asking permission - as you place his lanky fingers around your neck. Swallowing hard, he applies pressure and your mouth falls open in a lazy smile. 

Your fifth orgasm creeps up on you quickly, but so is Spencer's. "I'm.. so fu- so fucking close," you let out raspily. 

"Me too," he replies, dropping his head. His free hand maneuvers down to run quick circles on your clit, throwing you into convulsions as your fifth orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A few more pumps, and Spencer pulls out of you, cumming on your stomach, moaning your name and mixed profanities. He finally brings his head back up to look at you and undoes your restraints, freeing your wrists. A weary smile accompanies his fucked-out expression. He searches around in the floor, finding something to clean you off with before climbing back into the bed and pulling you up snug with him. 

"That's what I was afraid of you know," he says barely above a whisper. "Hurting you." 

"You didn't hurt me, Spence. I just needed to breathe," you reply with a slight laugh, then placing a kiss to his hand that's draped over.you. 

"You staying?" You ask after a bit of silence. 

"You're a fool if you think I'm going anywhere." He pulls the blankets up over the two of you and pulls you in even tighter; drifting to sleep in no time.