#maybe I wasn't paying attention for that I guess?

[enoughyi]

71 for the kiss prompt list 👀

#4: In A Position To Talk

Ship: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting (x f!MC (Julia Wright))

Summary: Poppy is always wary for each and either of them.

Prompt Number: 71. A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 740. Rating: G.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

Hufflepuff pride? Yes. Also, a honourable mention of a certain Aesop Sharp.

Tags: @thriftstorebabayaga @espressoristretto-patronum @caramel-hufflepuff

Everything Poppy knew about Quidditch she learnt on accident.

And facts, details, trivia, let alone girlfriends' experiences, all left her with a petty realisation she'd loved to keep her beloved women away from this pernicious game. Imelda's father lost his ability to walk to it. Julia could loose what remained of her health; granted, she stopped playing after the school was over, yet Imelda insisted on broom races held all across and around British Isles.

Her sound reasoning didn't find understanding from Poppy, however.

They both wanted what would be best for everyone but wasn't there less trauma-inducing sport to choose to upkeep staying fit?.. But if Julia seemed to like the activity, then, maybe, she knows better? She only looked sickly, yet her spirits were lively as ever; were, most days.

Questioning Imelda's choices at some point in life felt like a lecture.

Imelda wasn't a person to take it lightly but somehow, whenever a slightest concerned would jump from Poppy's lips in to the room's quiet ambiance, Imelda's reaction at it wouldn't ever turn volatile.

Instead, she'd sigh and in a carefully-picked-words manner explain worst things could happen to the best of the best regardless the skill. If Julia was present, the brief shadow of her silent comment was irrevocable to appear. Any subtle hint of Sharp's tragic recollection of events lead to his career severely dwindled and washed him ashore near Hogwarts's loch was enough for either to say It Is What It Is.

Poppy would always find a way to digress and say either should pay utmost attention. They weren't Aurors to face dangers obligingly. If they could help, they shouldn't provoke it? Needless, those perils.

Poppy had never anything to answer to the query of was she the one to talk after saving quite a few beast and from as young as she was only ten. Lost and surrendering to a defeat, Poppy would still catch on the lingering feeling of wary, "Julie, Melly. I worry sick about you."

They always helped to ease the tension but never enough to have her anxiety fully let go of. Was it the aftermath still present in the air, even after so much time have passed since the Spring of 1892.; or was it something else entirely, creeping into crevasses of her usual very much collected and some could say, insouciant demeanor, from the recent events of her professional life. Nobody really knew, but a few well-planted, wontly kisses would be of tremendous help.

Once, after Julia kissed them goodnight and went upstairs, Imelda suddenly followed Poppy on her seemed-resolved ask, "So do we. Each of us managed to secure a niche that is nothing but a guess how to navigate, didn't us. Don't worry, we've been unsinkable so far".

"I, I think you're right," Poppy answered. "But that doesn't answer my question. Ten years ago we could afford to be menaces on Hogwarts' behalf." Noticed Imelda preferred to change seats, she shifted a tad. "But not now. I understand we are all compensated well for what we do. But it is, I, I don't know, Imelda. Longer we live, less we can risk."

"Wise words, for the ripe old age of twenty five or six."

"Melly!"

Before Imelda uttered an apology in a low brogue, her hands held on Poppy's, firmly. "Not a single bad thing will happen to me or to Julia, I can promise you that. What will happen to Ravenclaw on her own fly, though. She'll tell you herself."

Dry and soft touch of her lips to wrist send shivers up Poppy's arm, stuck warmly between shoulder blades. She couldn't resist Imelda's embrace, either, quickly burying face in her flowery-scented jumper.

A lovely while later, Imelda pressed her chin upwards, so they could kiss. Imelda shyly ushered her agitation away, sighed, "Love you," that breezed through strands of her loose hair.

Cutthroat girl she was, sometimes she interpreted the woes of others a little wrongly. What was it made Imelda feel she needed to be coy?

Poppy wriggled in her arms, adjusting herself to then suffocated her in that kiss, no less; and note to herself: ten years may already had passed, ten more will, twenty, fifty, infinity, but Imelda will always squint at her as if ferocious and feverish kisses, intently impressive on the very memory, were a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw's prerogative.

It was not.

Has never been.

Will not ever become.

[vampirepuppygirl]

You know, I grew up catholic and never experienced catholic guilt, and it still kind of confuses me

When I went to mass, the readings and the gospel were always just life lessons or stories to make you think, and what it wanted you to think about was usually humility and piety and loyalty and faith and stuff like that

Faith formation was mostly about learning the history of the church and important stories that you should remember, plus prayer memorization

I don't ever actually remember a time where they were specifically like "you must feel guilty about this" or "everyone by default deserves to go to hell and you must constantly prostrate before god to be deemed worthy"

It was "everyone sins and everyone drifts away from god and that's okay because he will never abandon you"

It was "Jesus died for your sins. To liberate you from them so you're no longer beholden to the old way, so you're no longer beholden to original sin, so you can have a clean slate without ceaseless penance"

The sin forgiveness cycle that Catholics kind of get pulled into was always described to me as a liberating cycle. It gives you the freedom to sin and the freedom to make mistakes as you bumble through the blind chaos of life without worrying about perfection or damnation

Even when I went to confession it wasn't just a blanket "don't do it again" it was "think about why that is a sin and let that experience teach you something."

If I know anything about catholics it's that they love rules and they love the pursuit of knowledge, I once had a very long conversation with a priest about why a certain rule was a rule and why a certain sin was a sin and it was a lot more complicated than just "god said so," even if I can't remember the specifics anymore

I don't know, maybe it was my specific diocese or I've just been around a lot of liberal priests or something, but I even had someone tell me basically word for word "As long as you follow the ten commandments and use the seven virtues as a framework to guide you, you're set. Use confession to scrub away the sins you can't avoid and that's it. Nobody is without sin so just do your best and that's all anyone can ask of you."

Primarily, what growing up catholic taught me was just the importance of love

Love your family, love your neighbor, love a stranger, love the Earth, love nature, and fundamentally love yourself. And forgive yourself. And be patient with yourself. Because I was taught that everyone sins and that's okay.

And that's okay.

I was taught that seeking absolution and forgiveness is meant to steer you in the right direction, yes for the ultimate goal of heaven, which was defined to me as Oneness with God. And hell was defined to me not as a multi-tiered demon filled demiplane of fire and brimstone and ice, but simply the state of separation from god.

But it wasn't just about salvation it was also about making the Earth we live in now a better place and they are rules specifically to facilitate good communication and good relationships with other people and yourself, and obviously God (but whatever.) It was always basically let God absolve you of your guilt but don't force yourself to feel guilty if you make a mistake.

I don't really consider myself catholic anymore, mostly because of other people, catholics and protestants who use their religion as a tool to spread hateful rhetoric and become their own personal left hand of God, instead of using their religion to spread love and patience and understanding and forgiveness and tolerance and all of the things that they actually fucking preach. Why y'all throwing stones huh? Y'all ain't without sin. Literally nobody is. That's the point.

But I like what I was taught. I use what I was taught a lot. Technically even if I don't consider myself catholic I still am. I have been confirmed, I could waltz right into a catholic church confess my sins and my doubts and have a long conversation with a priest and boom blank slate once more. There would be penance hoops I would have to jump through but that's literally what happens with every confession, so still

But that's always what confused me about Catholic guilt like

What were you taught?

[clevervonskelli]

I can take them making the Crosby/Landra thing explicit (even when keeping it vague would have been very doable and truer to his own memoir) but him pushing her about what she actually was doing was annoying. The call we'll see next week is fine, but whining about it in a pub instead of just being like "haha pretty sure my badass former-roomate is a spy, crazy times we live in, ammirite?" rubbed me the wrong way.

[r0bee]

The more I think about it the funnier it is that Mark was surprised that William is gay. Not bc of all the times they call each other gay (I don't think Mark would've done that if he knew) but bc William asked him to help him move.

William asked Mark to help him move into an apartment with one bed that he'd be sharing with his 'friend' and Mark didn't think about/question it at all.

Truly a terrible detective no wonder William had to plan the Reanimen finding plan all by himself.

[kyuala]

hmm

[mieczyhale]

not sure if tumblr is being tumblr or if i've been dumped by a beloved mutual with no idea what i did wrong

[tapewormsoda]

breakups are so fucking weird. three years and just like that it's gone. huh

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

I don’t know how to feel about The Luminous Solution. I’m a sucker for best friends to lovers, so I was never going to be happy with Ryou and Mai. I still like Mai’s character and I love the actor and loved him in MoD. But also, his mom looks like she desperately wants him to go with them wherever they’re moving to, so I feel bad.

But I do feel like it was unnecessary to make Nack into a villain (I guess that’s an extreme way to put it). He was just a sweet kid who wanted to take care of his friend, and I feel like Ryou and Dena would know if he weren’t a good person. He doesn’t need to be a worse person than Mai to still be rejected. But I guess unnecessary drama is what the whole show is about.

And it’s about this magic cafe and wishes, but I feel like the exact outcomes and consequences of the wishes aren’t clear, to me at least. And how will they wrap everything up in one episode? They didn’t even cover everything with the magic shop lady’s kid in present day yet.

I started out sympathizing with Thana, but now I think he’s just a moron. He literally spent an entire day with that other guy instead of his boyfriend because he was lying about not having a job all while boohooing that they don’t have any time together. Even if he didn’t want to confess, he could’ve stayed away for an hour or two, and then come back and said he was done because it was a SATURDAY. But instead, he stayed out until dark! And then he kept smoking even after promising to stop. And I know he wasn’t oblivious to the kid’s crush on him. They were holding hands while he blew smoke into his mouth! He’s so stupid. Gun crushed those heartbreaking scenes though.

So far Pen is my favorite. But does she ever rest? She tells Phathit to rest all the time, but she’s always at work too!

Also why did Naphat look like he was surprised Phathit rejected him?

And what was the key that Pen gave to Phathit? It looked like the magic keys. Maybe I watched these episodes too quickly and too close together. I thought 6 episodes was a good thing to keep the story tight. But they they didn’t even start making wishes until what, end of episode 3? I’m so confused.

[eudikot]

When you're obviously coloring a horse in while your professor is lecturing but later see them while in your lab and they excitedly want to see the research you've been doing

[smalleevee]

accidentally curved the guy i like in my own home last night...can we get an L in the chat please

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon Riley who realizes how much he fucked up and that maybe therapy isn't such a bad idea

AN: Lil bit longer than usual, but it's been on my mind

Art credit to SubsurfaceChaos on Twitter

Something was off with him all day. It wasn't too noticeable until he began distancing himself, getting irritated at being around anyone. You confronted him, simply trying to see if you could help or maybe provide comfort, and fuck did that backfire.

He was sitting in the living room watching whatever was on the channel, but it's not like he was paying attention to it. Thoughts and feelings of the deployment he just came back from a few days ago build up, irritation filling him like water in a bathtub. He doesn't usually have flashbacks or anything like that, the military would discharge him if he had PTSD, but some days he thinks too much.

He didn't even notice you coming in until you were sitting next to him. He snaps out of his thoughts just to meet your soft eyes. You sat on the other end of the couch, not wanting to crowd him too much while he's like this.

"What." He deadpans, voice devoid of all emotion.

Yeah something's definitely up.

"What's wrong, Si? Somethin' been messing with you today?" You ask gently, not wanting to come off as if you're accusing him.

He gives you and irritated look, suggesting you drop it, "Nothin', 'm fine"

You're not stupid. He tends to need a little push in order to open up.

"I know you're not", tone still soft, "I'm not trying to irritate you or anything, I ju-"

"Well you certainly got an affinity for it" He snaps, "Drop it"

You inhale, trying to not take his words personally, "Si, I'm your girlfriend, it's kinda my job to check in with you"

The bathtub overflows.

"You can't listen, can you? I said drop it, fuckin' 'ell" He stands up from the couch and walks to the kitchen, trying to create distance.

"Simon I'm just trying to help, I'm not here to make things harder for you" You try to reason with him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You follow him into the kitchen but still give him space. He doesn't say anything back, a small part of him knowing you're right but the larger part won't connect to that. Pouring a class of orange juice, he keeps his back to you.

"Si-"

"Can you shut up for once?! Can you? I said bloody drop it. It's not up for discussion!" He sets the cup on the counter with a thud and snaps at you, "You're always fuckin' naggin' at me, clearly not takin' a bloody hint. Jesus Christ"

That shuts you up. The lump in your throat intensifies, tears beginning to form in your eyes. He's never yelled at you like that before. Sure, he's had bursts of irritation during arguments, but he's worked hard to make sure he never treats you how you don't deserve.

"Why are you yelling at me? All I'm doing is trying to be there for you" You ask quietly, voice not really allowing you to speak louder. a couple tears fall down your face, and your nose begins to get stuffed up. You try to quietly sniffle but he still hears it. He hangs his head down and groans quietly.

"Now you're fuckin' cryin'. Great."

Not wanting to be around him much longer, you turn to leave, "Come find me when you're calmer", Your voice betrays you and cracks a little.

You walk away and go upstairs to your shared bedroom. Once you close the door, the crying begins. His words cut through you like a knife, a deep pressure-like hurt seeping through your chest. Sobs rack your body yet you still try to be quiet, not wanting him to hear. You know he's gonna snap out of it and fuckin hate himself for what he did. You know he loves you, and if he were in his right mind he would have never uttered a single degrading word to you.

You slip into bed and lay there, crying. You guessed he would be up anytime soon and the smell of him on the pillows was both comforting and hurtful.

Downstairs though, Simon was fucking fuming. Seeing you go up the stairs, lip quivering, evaporated every bit of him anger. He groans loudly and throws an arm over his eyes.

'How fuckin' stupid can you be? How the fuck can you speak to her like that?'

He removes his arm and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. You've stuck through with him since the moment you meet. Never once judged his off stand-ish behavior and learned to find ways to work with him. He cherished you so wholly, feeling what he thought he never would. You came into his life and slowly broke down his walls, allowing you to see him apart from his exterior.

He thought he was going to lose you. Sure, you had arguments before, but he had never purposefully tried to hurt you. Knowing that he did made his stomach churn, nausea kicking in. 2 years of the best relationship (not that there were very many before you) all to be broken down, at least what he thought, because he was pissed off.

'Maybe I should fuckin' go to therapy.'

Let's be honest, he could use it. He tried to go through it before but just quit due to how uncomfortable it made him. He figured he was on his own, all before you, and there was no one to deal with his bullshit besides him. Now he has someone who he cares about so much that it doesn't matter if he's uncomfortable. He'd rather be uncomfortable than never be with you again.

He gathers the balls to go upstairs and carefully opens the door. He's met with the sight of you curled up, your sniffles being the only sound in the room.

"Go away" You call out, although not too loudly. Your voice is wobbly and stuffy.

He'd think it was adorable, had he not been the one to cause it. He walks to the opposite side of the bed and gets in, spooning you. He kisses your hair so gently it would give you butterflies if you weren't so upset.

"I'm so sorry, love. I haven't a clue why I did that to you and you didn't deserve a single lick of it." He feels the small burn in his nose as he starts tearing up a little, "I promise it'll never happen again"

You sniffle as more tears fall, the pain sticking to you despite his words.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off" You whisper.

"I know baby, it wasn't you. I promise it wasn't. Could never be that mad at you" He says softly, a tear falling. He grips you a little bit tighter and kisses the back of your neck, trying to bring comfort to both of you.

"Then why did you yell at me? I've never heard you like that before."

He sighs, "Been thinkin' 'bout what happened while I was gone and it came out at you. 'M gonna go back to therapy 'n try to fix what ever the hell is wrong with me" He kisses your neck again, " 'M gonna do better, gonna be better"

He's not stupid, he knows his words aren't gonna go away overnight. He knows how much you love him, even if he doesn't understand it, and knows hearing that from him hurts more than it would anyone else. He knows you're gonna be affected by them for a bit and he's prepared to fix it. Anything for his love.

You turn around so you're both still on your sides but you're cuddled into his chest. Wasting no time, not even hesitating, he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. He lets out a sigh of relief, knowing this is your way of accepting his apology. He softly kisses your forehead and cheek, whispering how much he loves you and how it's gonna be better.

He knows he can't run from his issues anymore and for once he's ready to face them.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

Tricky Blunder

Spencer Reid x bau!reader | part 2

part 1

Summary: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you.

Warning: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff

A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head.

not my gif ctto :)

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

[jellieland]

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

[catsushizz]

Let Time Pass - S.R

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: you reminisce about the time when you met Spencer Reid at college and had a night of adventure that you'll never forget, but after that, you never spoke, until Penelope Garcia found your unsent letters and decided to play the savior of your undying love.

Genre: mutual pining, angst if you squint, but mostly fluff

WC: 3.2k

Warning: kissing, cursing, invading private property

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, actually, guess the rom-com that inspired me to write this. I'll give you a hint, the first movie has "sunrise" in the title and the second movie includes unsent letters with addresses hehe.

---

Summer rain has always been your favorite accompanied by the sound of the patter of the raindrops. You looked outside your window with a faraway look, your glasses now above your hair as you took a break from reading the unsent letters.

Unsent letters you wrote when you were in college, being in love with someone for so long who you're not sure still remembers you can be draining, you've loved him since the first time he acknowledged your presence during class and when he took you out of campus when it was just the two of you.

Love comes in forms and somehow Spencer's was when he first spewed those few words to you when you were talking to your friends but they weren't paying attention so you stopped and just sat there embarrassed.

"Wasn't Centralia a town that is still burning to this day?" He had asked and your eyes held the universe at his question. You got his name, Spencer Reid and that name hasn't left your mind ever since then.

Love comes in forms and yours are letters.

After that night, you never spoke again, he got his Ph.Ds and life got in the way. You're pretty sure he doesn't remember you, and you're sure he's got his way with life now, maybe he settled down and you're still pining for a man who you're not sure still remembers you.

You remembered how the night went with him, you actually talked until sunrise. At first, you walked around campus and then explored the city together. He told you about his mom, his goals, everything he hasn't said to anyone, and you told him about everything, your secrets that you haven't said to your best friend yet.

You sighed as you shook yourself out of your reverie, you looked down at your letter and traced the dust off from your neatly written letter.

the letter was a year old, you used to write letters every day when you first met him but when you graduated you never stopped but it became less frequent as time passed. Now you write one letter every year and put it inside a box but this time you decide to stop, finally stop chasing your fantasies and let life slap you in the face.

You laughed at your ridiculousness then you heard the door creek and your gaze landed on your best friend. "Hi Pen" you smiled at her.

Penelope's gaze landed on the box in your hand "What's that?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your couch engulfing her in a tight hug "Stop being nosy and when did you arrive?"

She groaned at the contact "50 minutes ago" you laughed and let go of her.

"were you stuck in a conversation with Mom?" She nodded and let her gaze drift off to the box again.

"Seriously, is that your box from college? You never let me touch it and can you please let me see it, I'm older than you, in case you forgot" she insisted as she made the gesture of getting it out of your grasp.

You smacked her in her arms and hissed "No, and you'll never touch this, I don't care how old you are" You glared at her but it held no threat.

"Fine, dinner is ready your Mom asked me to get you" she grumbled and you let out a huff of amusement.

Penelope was never nosy when it came to you but it's been years since you've ever been with someone and she had a hunch that the box had something to do with it.

"Go on ahead I'm going to change in the bathroom," Penelope said straight up lying in front of your face. You didn't question it as it seems believable, perks of working with profilers.

You only hummed and you made a mistake by putting the box inside your closet without locking it. As soon as you left Penelope got out of the bathroom and searched for your box which wasn't hard to find.

She made sure you were completely out of sight before opening it, she didn't know what she expected but surely it wasn't this. Her jaw went slack as she read through your letters from when you were in college until last year, some were long and some were short, with dates in the corner of each letter.

Spencer Reid, her Mighty professor, Her boy genius.

You stopped, why did you stop? She thought while she read through the recent content. She had to do something about it, she had to help you.

Penelope breathed in, fixed her hair in the mirror, and got out of the room, pretending as if she hadn't shoved a box inside her bag and invaded her best friend's privacy, she's doing it for you so it can't be that bad right?

You were laughing at something your dad said but stopped when you saw how unsettled Penelope was "Pen what's wrong?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Now she felt guilty, she felt like throwing up but this was for you. "Nothing, I- I just uh, need to go I feel like I forgot something at home" she stammered as she made her way to the door.

"What? Let me drive you home" You stood up from your seat, your mom and dad looking between you two with suspicion in their eyes.

"No!" Penelope abruptly exclaimed, her hand flailing around for you to stop, making you and your parents flinch at the volume of her voice.

She cleared her throat and pushed her bag away from sight which didn't go unnoticed by you "I can drive myself and besides I got something to drop off at a friend's house" she chuckled awkwardly.

You hesitantly sat back down and nodded "Okay... Call me when you get home" You smiled at her and she nodded. She didn't change her clothes but you thought none of it, maybe that was the thing that she forgot.

---

Spencer was lounging on his couch when he heard the loudest knock he had ever heard in his entire life. His brows knitted together as he peeped at the peephole of his door before opening it.

"Garcia?" He mumbled while looking at the frantic girl in front of him, if he didn't know any better she would've murdered someone but that was just a silly thought.

Penelope pushed Spencer inside urgently and pushed a box against his chest, he had to balance himself at the force.

"What's this?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. Penelope sighed and she sat down on the couch with her hand on her face.

"Do you remember a girl in college?" She muttered, her voice barely visible but he heard her.

"You need to be more specific than that, Penelope" Spencer said and pursed his lips as he put the box on the table and sat down beside her.

Penelope frowned as she looked at Spencer "A girl who you spoke to once and never heard from ever again" she said, her body fully facing him.

She noticed his expression doesn't change and she groaned "For a person who has an eidetic memory, you're shit at remembering" she grumbled.

Spencer looked offended "What?! You're the one talking about a girl without context, do you know how many people I spoke to at college? 80% of those people-" Penelope clicked her tongue and signaled for him to stop.

She took the box from the table and pushed it back to his chest which made him glare at her, she ignored him.

"Open it" she demanded. Spencer studied her tense figure and the way she was trying to hug herself to make herself feel better.

"I feel like you stole something that isn't yours-" he said but found himself being cut off by Penelope's hissed.

"Stop profiling me and open the damn box" she whined as she stood up from the couch and paced around his apartment.

Spencer shook his head as he finally opened the box. He looked at Penelope in confusion and when he saw it was a bunch of old letters.

"Whose this for?" He questioned.

"For you, obviously! I wouldn't have brought it to you if it weren't addressed to you" she exclaimed.

"But there isn't any address on these" he shuffled through the letters, they were still in the envelopes.

"Just read it!"

"Garcia, you do know you just invaded someone's privacy right?"

"I know, just read it. Please?"

Spencer sighed and nodded his head. He started on the first letter that was technically open and he let his gaze back to Garcia who was now sweating in guilt.

When he opened it, he felt his heart beginning to thump. Garcia watched him carefully as she noticed his expression gradually changed.

Dear, Spencer Reid

Do you remember when you first talked to me? I remember thinking that you're the kind of man I'm willing to put my life at risk for. I'm sure you endured me rambling about the burning town (that is still burning to this day apparently and it's been 7 years since we last spoke)

But what I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with you, pathetic I know. But I just can't seem to let you go, you're like impossible not to remember and each day I try to forget about you and move past my ability to love so deeply but I can't.

Do you remember when you talked to me about your mom? I was so proud of you for coming up that far for your mom, and when we sneaked in on a bar and actually stole a bottle of wine? I couldn't stop laughing that time. God, I keep recalling that memory.

I shared all of my thoughts with you, spilled all my secrets to you, and at some point we held hands and I was so shocked because you told me you had a thing with germs. Honestly, it made me feel special.

I'm scared that if I see you again you'll think I'm weird and obsessive, which I'm not! I can stomach a rejection and I'll completely leave you alone if you ask me to. I'm just really bad at letting people go you know?

But I won't drag this on for long, you're not gonna see this anyway, and one last thing, I hope you have the best life the universe has to offer. I'll talk to them face to face if they are mean to you.

This will be my last letter, I'm letting you go now. I've been so in love with you that I feel like I'll be stuck in a loophole where life is trying to berate me every time for not saying anything to you, for not congratulating you when you graduated because I was feeling too shy to approach you that day. I wish I had, then maybe we could've talked more and had the time of our lives and maybe a repeat of what we did when we first met.

I'm just hoping life is a little bit gentler with you this time.

Yours truly

The girl who you talked to until sunrise

When he finished reading the letter he was silent for a good 3 minutes, and then he started shuffling through the letters and read them all like a madman. Penelope had to stop herself from stopping him.

God did he remember you, fucking hell he remembers you. You've been on his mind for 8 years. He even found himself in tears, he didn't expect someone to love him this much. Yearn for him like he yearns for you.

Spencer wasn't the type of guy who got over things easily and he had come to accept it as a part of him, the pair of you spoke once yet he can't deny the spark he felt while talking to you. If it were anybody else he would've found a way to get out of the conversation but your voice was addicting and so was your ramble about the old town.

He even went as far as to pretend not to know about the things that happened within that town just so he could hear your voice a little while longer. Your conversation shifted as time passed and Spencer found himself talking about anything really, he even made jokes that you found funny and he couldn't ignore the flutter in his stomach when he saw you smile.

When he saw you under the first light of the day, he felt himself fall in love, even if the time was fleeting his love wasn't, it never was.

Every time he was on death's door, you were always the subject of his memories. He keeps recalling the night when he felt like the universe was in his favor only for it to laugh at his face when he didn't see you again.

"I can help you, she's at the bar right now, she texted me," Penelope said, snapping him back down on earth.

He wiped a stray tear and sniffled "No, it's too late, she stopped writing like a year ago" he muttered and Penelope noticed the pain in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, I know her, she could be writing a letter right now as we speak" Penelope laughed.

"At a bar?"

"It was a joke, Spencer. Now let's go get your girl, Prince Charming!" She grinned as she dug through her bag for her keys.

"I don't know... I feel like I'm just digging my own grave, Garcia. I can't bear to hear her say that she doesn't feel the same way anymore" He whispered, his voice small as he avoided Penelope's disapproving look.

"That girl watches rom-coms, Spence. Do you think she'll brush off her feelings that easily? Try watching Serendipity and come back to me and try again but right now we need to hurry" She grabbed his arms and dragged him out of his apartment.

She stopped when they got into her car "Promise me you won't tell her I gave you the letter" she said sternly.

"But how am I supposed to explain why I'm there?" He asked confused.

"You're a genius, figure it out," she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

---

You were sitting in a booth with your friends. After having dinner with your parents, your friends invited you to a bar where you felt inclined to come, but you didn't know how to decline.

The air was suffocating so you excused yourself and got out of the bar. You sigh as your gaze shifts to the sky, Spencer would've pointed you to the constellation that was present right now.

"The one you're looking at right now is Aquila" You whipped your head to the familiar voice and you heard yourself gasp.

Spencer smiled when your eyes met "The brightest star in the constellation is Altair" he said as he began walking towards you.

"There is a story of an old Chinese legend about two stars, Altair and Vega, In the story two people met and fell in love but were separated by the stars" he was now in front of you, his hands in his pajama pocket, he turned red as he realized what he was wearing.

"What are you doing here?" You said, at a loss for words. He looked different but not in a bad way. He looked good. Hot even.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, he always knew you were beautiful but God, you are gorgeous now.

You averted your gaze when you noticed a figure in the distance then your blood ran cold when you saw Penelope, Spencer noticed.

"Don't be mad at her, she helped me find you" he defended urgently as he grabbed your arms. You knitted your brows together.

"How d- did you two meet?" You stammered.

"We worked together" he rubbed his nape, a nervous tick that you notice.

Spencer was so sure he knew what to say to you but now that you're actually in front of him, he was left speechless.

"I never told her about you- did you read the letters?!" You exclaimed, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Spencer looked guilty as he averted his gaze to the ground "Yes..." He trailed off.

"God, you must think I'm crazy" you grumbled as you kept fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

"Hey, I don't think you're crazy" he whispered as he cupped your face with his hand "I actually find it endearing that you still think of me to this day, and just so you know you haven't left my mind either" he softly said, his face was so close you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks.

He tucks a stray hair out of your face, his eyes holding adoration as he meets your eyes again "Really?" You whispered.

His eyes darted to your lips and he felt himself subconsciously lick his lips "Yeah" he muttered.

He brushed his lips against yours as if testing the waters and when you fluttered your eyes shut, he kissed you as if he was going to devour you.

He breathed in as he kissed you, a certain longing lingered in the air. He pulled away to take a breath but then you surged forward and connected your lips against him for the second time, his hand on your waist as he pushed you closer against him, your hand snaking its way to the hair on his nape as you tugged him closer making him groaned in the kiss.

He tugged on your bottom lip asking for permission which you granted and he slid his tongue in, you tasted so sweet he found himself starting to get addicted. You were a panting mess when both of you separated, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes still closed as you took deep breaths.

Spencer rubbed his nose against yours affectionately and you giggled "You know you'll be stuck with me for a long time right?" You muttered.

"Make it forever" he grins, he connects his lips back to you but this time it is softer than the first, you kiss him back as you both fall in a rhythm.

When you pulled back he chased your lips and that made you chuckle "I'm still mad at her for stealing my letters" you muttered.

"Don't be, please. She's the reason I get to see you again" he said as he pulled you in a hug, your head resting against his chest as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

"And I can't believe you were about to give up on me" Spencer joked lightly and you poked him on his hip making him jolt in surprise.

"Hey! Not fair, what was I supposed to do?" You whined and he laughed.

"to make it seem fair" he looks down on you as you meet his gaze, still in his warm embrace "I wrote about you in my journal, all my journals are full of you" he smiled.

You gasp "what? Let me read it please? you've read my letters" you pleaded.

He hummed "Nope, come on Penelope's waiting in the car" he said as he leads you to Penelope's car with his hand on your back.

"That's totally unfair, but I will snoop around"

"No, you won't"

"You snooped on my letters without my permission, so it's right that I should too," you said smugly.

"Shouldn't you be doing that to Penelope?"

"Oh yeah, let's do it"

-----

Please interact and reblog my post if you like it, it makes me happy hehe :D

The divider is from @cafekitsune :)