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11thsdoctress · 1 year

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I seen that you been asking for request for writing and I can't get out of my mind the idea of a one shot based of snap out of it by the artic monkeys. Where the doctor (ideally 10th but I don't really mind if you use any other) had a relationship with the reader in the past and they meet before a long time and reader is gonna get married and the doctor try to stop them. Sorry if was too long of request and thank you in advance! ✨

oK SO IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO WRITE THIS,,,, bUT,, I LOVE THE PLOT I WANNA TAKE TIME AND DO IT JUSTICE,, I wanted to stick with the prompt to it's exact originally, but I just went on and branched out tbh,,, I hope I did a decent job (after all I wrote this with one braincell) also,,, I love Ten (and David Tennant in general),, I've been meaning to write something with/about him,, he's sooo adorkable :(( ========================

Just Like Old Times (10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: 10th/Tenth Doctor x Reader

Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2276

It was a fickle feeling, knowing that the both of you had something going on, even though you knew the Doctor for just a few years, it felt like he was a childhood friend for more than a decade or two.

Now your world was back to its normal, dull, and mundane manners, leaving the TARDIS was the hardest decision you’ve made in your life, but who could blame you? Not even the Doctor could blame you for a time of some normalcy.

A few years had gone by, you met a man, and suddenly everything happened so quickly, from the first few small dates to outings, to him proposing, to which you said yes, After all, you were in love with him, right? Or the idea that he reminds you of the Doctor? Are you really in love with the man that you call the love of your life? Or was it just an infatuation?

You try to shake your head away from these thoughts since it was the day of the wedding ceremony, it was still really early, the sun barely touching the horizon, and the bridesmaids were still fast asleep, you decided to take a head start in preparing for your big day, you pass by your wedding dress on the mannequin, a nice white gown, with some blue accents to compliment with the dress, you took a moment to try to process the moment, but you went ahead to prepare.

—------

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

It was one of those nights when the Doctor reminisces about the two of you, he always had a feeling that something was missing every time he woke up, and starts a new adventure, hell, even sometimes see you in his peripheral, only to be his imagination playing with his brain and hearts,

The moment you walked out of the TARDIS was extremely difficult for the Doctor to move on from, He tried to forget everything for a bit, but it was no use, all he could think about was that it was his fault that you had left him with his time-traveling box,

He had blamed himself that he had put you at a distance, blamed himself that he knew that he was afraid for you to get closer to him, not only of putting you in danger, but afraid to allow himself to express how much he loves and adores you in all the ways he could imagine.

“Oi! Spaceman, where are you heading off to this time?” Donna had pulled him back to reality as she looked a bit worried before grabbing the keys to her home.

“Oh it’s nothing, just thinking of visiting some old friends.” he put on a smile before saying his goodbyes to Donna and heading back to the TARDIS’ console and sighing,

“Maybe I do need to relax.” he looks at the monitor, and his reflection on the monitor, “Alright, let’s pick this date then.”

*whirring, buzzes, beep-boops, whoooosh-*

The TARDIS had landed on in a sunny morning in London, next to a beautifully decorated garden, the door swung open, The Doctor cheerfully opened the door and looked around the place, he smiled bitterly as he recognized the familiar garden, stepping out and started to empty out his mind from the adventures.

He had wandered off in to the garden, the sights and scents of roses, orchids, and lavenders had filled him, bringing back all the memories of him and you in this very place, the time you had brought him ice cream from your favorite parlor, the time he had read you a book while having a picnic, and the countless times of afternoon to night strolls.

All of these bittersweet memories flooding his head filled his hearts with the familiar flutter and heaviness of the guilt that was lingering with him for a while, it was a momentary bittersweet bliss he felt until he saw a signage,

“Mr. & Mrs. Wellington Wedding Ceremony”

Intrigued and curious, The Doctor went around to sneak in and to look who were the lucky couple. Spotting the groom, he just mumbled to himself, “eh, could’ve been worse.” before trying to find out who was the lucky bride,

The Doctor snooped around more to satisfy his curious brain, as he got to a photo album of the couple, he slightly regretted feeding his curiosity by finding the album to see you in the photos.

He felt that the world around him froze, he didn’t want to believe the thing he was seeing, he looks around him, before running to the back of the venue. His hearts were racing as he was trying to calm down, He wanted to deny that he saw you in those photos, he was trying his very best to get you off of his mind.

He wandered around until he reached the park, little ways down the road, not that far from the wedding, settling on the bench near the river, he was trying to convince himself that you were happy with someone else, but there was a nagging feeling in him that he has to do something. It was truly an internal battle, his mind was now wandering into endless, ‘What if’s’ and hypotheticals, until he was interrupted by a voice he tried to forget and at the same time, longed to hear,

“Doctor?”

—------

The wedding was a disaster,

James, your supposed soon to be husband, was delaying the wedding hour by hour, since his business was on the edge of a international deal to make them skyrocket in the stocks. You felt stupid to let him tend to his business instead of pushing through with the wedding, and honestly now it felt like the wedding ceremony was skipped entirely.

You tried to keep yourself together, convincing yourself that it was better for the both of them, since, at least it’s going to help the both of you in the finances in the future, but hell, you couldn’t even live and experience the wedding ceremony itself. There was this feeling that bothered you, and to take a breather, you headed to the back of the venue to calm your nerves, to prevent yourself from snapping at the disaster.

As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, to lower the tension and stress of the situation, there was a figure at the corner of your eye, walking to the bench you once had great memories with a memory, the more you looked and analyzed the figure, you were in disbelief when you saw the familiar brown suit and the messy hair, you had to make sure in what you saw was not a hallucination, you were frozen there, you couldn’t believe it, he was there. The Doctor was there.

You had debated with yourself, thinking on which was going to be your next move, let him be or approach him,

Taking a gulp, you slowly approached the bench, mustering up all the courage you needed before letting out,

“Doctor?”

It felt that time had stopped, it was surreal for the both of you, for you, you’d never thought that you would say that word or name ever again,

For him, he’d thought he would never hear that voice calling for him ever again,

He quickly turned around, stumbled a bit as he was trying to come up with something to say,

“I-It’s been a while, huh?” you look down, “would’ve sent you an invite, but didn’t know how to…” You awkwardly say, just to avoid the the silence,

There was a pause, an unbearing one, before the both of you say at the same time,

“I’m sorry!”

Both of you were surprised on how the apologies came out at the same time,

“I should be the one saying sorry here.” The Doctor went a bit closer as he looked at you, “I was the one that was scared to say anything-”

“No, I should be the one apologizing since I was the one that walked away on what we could’ve fixed!” You insist as you looked at him,

“Seems like both of us have things to say sorry for.” He says, trying to make the atmosphere less intimidating,

As it became more comfortable and exchanging jokes and banter, the both of you sat on the bench next to the river, asking questions just to catch up, everything was easy going and breezy,

“Never thought I would land on your wedding day.” he says as he sighs, trying to hide the bitter thoughts that accompany with it,

Never thought I’d see you again after what I did.” You look away, regretting the harshness of the reply,

“Wouldn’t blame you.” There was a while of comfortable silence before the Doctor had to ask the question that was in his mind for a while,

“Do you still love me? Or do you resent me for everything?” He asked as his voice had a hint of sadness and nervousness as he was trying to brace for your answer,

“Doctor, I could never hate or resent you, honestly, for a while, I resented myself for walking out, not doing anything to get to you, or at the least-” you sigh, “said yes to this.” gesturing to the white gown you were wearing, “but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Then how were you so sure that this type of forever suits you?” He suddenly asked,

“What do you mean?” You looked at him,

“Well, you’re questioning a major choice that affects your life, why did you say yes to this?”

You thought about his question, it was something you really had to ponder, realizing alot of things, you met your soon to be husband at your lowest time, and he very much acted like the Doctor,

The more you thought about the reasons, the more you realized that you were still very much in love with the Doctor subconsciously. Slowly by slowly, you were regretting the choices you had made ever since walking out of the TARDIS,

The Doctor suddenly pulls you in an embrace, noting your habit of spacing out and shaking, as soon as you realized what he was doing, you snapped out of the state of overthinking and calmed down, “I can’t just back out of this, I have to push through with this, I signed up for this, I have to take that…”

“You can.”

“No I can’t.”

The Doctor was about to say something, until you heard your soon to be husband calling to you, “Baby, what are you doing with this guy?” He harshly grabs your wrist, causing you to whimper,

“What the hell you think you’re doing? Treating her like that?” The Doctor was not happy with that.

“So? She belongs to me.” He plainly and arrogantly says as he was dragging you away from the Doctor’s comfort,

You could feel the anger piling in the Doctor as he was trying his best not to punch this guy, “I’d be careful if I were you.”

He pushes you in his car, “As if.” He gets in the car and it speeds off, You were hopeless, you were comfortable and honest for once in a while. As the car was speeding off, it was the uncomfortable silence that stressed you out the most, James was about to say something but the driver of the car interrupted, “Is that a flying blue box?”

You looked through the window behind you, seeing the familiar TARDIS, you had hope in you for once,

James notices the flying blue box behind the car as well, “What the hell is that?!”

The doors of the TARDIS opened as The Doctor was now in sight with his sonic screwdriver in hand, he points it to the car door on your side. Noticing the plan, you were about to jump out of the 120mph car and into the blue box, but you felt a grip on your wrist,

“You’re not going anywhere.” James angrily says, The blue box is now next to the car, matching the speed,

“Yes I am!” You punched him square in the face,

As he winced in pain, he lets you go, in the window of opportunity, you hurriedly made an effort to grab the Doctor’s arm and jump to the TARDIS, in which you ended up landing on top of him and the doors shutting,

As the TARDIS flew up and into space, both of you took a moment to catch your breaths before both of you broke into laughter,

“I miss this!” you exclaimed as you both sat up,

“I miss you.” He says as his laugh turns into a smile,

You blushed at his sudden confession, not really expecting that he would still feel that way towards you, however, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I miss you too.” you say as you leaned your forehead against his, a usual thing that the both of you did, The Doctor’s smile grew wider and his hearts beat faster after hearing you say that,

He slowly held your face and leaned in closer for a kiss, and it felt that he was longing for this moment for a while, it lasted for a few minutes before he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style, as if he was the one you married.

“The next time I see you in a wedding gown, I better be the groom.” He says, making the both of you laugh as he carries you towards the TARDIS’ halls towards his bedroom, after all, the two of you needed to rest before going on more adventures, just like old times.

======== author's note: aaaaaaaaaaaaa I hope to write more since I really love doing this, and ofc requests are open, wait for announcements for it hdksjksdjfhkdsj hope ya'll enjoyed this-

#doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #dw fic #dw fanfic

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scotchnlondonfogg · 11 months

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It's been two weeks since I was able to take in a viewing of the National Theatre Live production of "Good." I find it is still very much in my thoughts. As I hadn't reviewed it yet, now is a good a time as any (pardon the pun).

I purchased a copy of the screenplay, and if I hadn't seen the production in advance, it would have made for a tough and confusing read. Not unlike Shakespeare plays, this is a play that needs to be seen in performance to make sense. Between the time jumps and the quick cuts of dialogue and scenes it does not lend itself to the reader.

The West End revival of "Good" was supposed to take place originally back in 2020. But as we all know, the world ground to a halt, theatre's and live performance taking an especially hard hit. By some miracle, all three original actors were able to keep to their promise of being in this revival production.

The play, written by CP Taylor, takes place in 1930s Germany over a span of around eight years. It follows a "good" man and how such a good person could, unknowingly, be led into evil.

This revival production has three main actors, two of whom play a multitude of parts. The always mesmerizing David Tennant is the lead protagonist playing John Halder. Halder believes himself to be a good person, and a happy one, he does not see himself drifting into the evils of the Nazi regime. His character has a wife and children and a mother who has dementia. He hears a lot of music in his head. Music is peppered through the play, as a dramatic device it denotes Halder's detachment from reality. Halder also has an inability to listen to others, he has a case of narcissism in his character. Tennant subtly portrays a lurking darkness, that has always been there, under an bookish and affable exterior. He pretends to be concerned for others, but is always acting with selfish motivations. It is stunning and chilling.

Tennant's fellow actors, Elliot Levey and Sharon Small, play multiple roles. Elliot Levey plays Maurice, Halder's best, and only, friend. In addition he plays a range of characters and Nazi supervisors. Elliot imbues Maurice with a sense of growing panic and betrayal as he watches the horrors unfold before him. How can his best friend not help get out of the danger? How can Halder not see what is actually happening around them?

Halder: This is still a capitalist country. The real power is in the hand of the capitalists. They can't afford to have a mystic idealist running their country...this is a temporary aberration.

Maurice: He doesn't listen to people. I'm telling you. There is legislation coming in the next few days...in the next day...today...maybe yesterday.

Halder is above the conflicts in many ways because of his background, and his constant self-justification and moral emptiness will mean he betrays his 'good' sense of self. He rationalizes everything, even when he's in the middle of the "night of the broken glass" (the Anti-Jewish pogroms that took place in November of 1938). He's a literature professor and he doesn't make much of the book burning at the University, as long as he can keep his copies of his books, since his superior has disguised his jazz music records in order to keep them.

Freddie: All right, Johnnie? Can I leave that to you?

Halder: As long as I can keep my copies, Freddie.

Freddie: I've got my jungle music haven't I?

Sharon Small plays Helen - Halder's wife, his mother with dementia, Anne - his mistress, and a couple of fellow SS officers. As Helen, Small portrays a sense of constant putting down of herself, she's frequently looking down at the floor. As Halder's mother, she hunches and shrinks down a bit in stature. If it all sounds confusing to watch, it could have been. However, Levey and Small did a tremendous job of using body language and vocal inflections to keep the characters separate. Once you quickly cotton on to the switches, it works because of these top shelf actors. The stage direction also helps via stage lighting and music to denote scene changes. Seeing this on film was amazing, those that got to see it live on stage, that would have been genuine stage magic.

The strength of this play, through CP Taylor's writing, shows you the varied ways that people delude themselves and shut out realities in front of them. The mentality of "surely they won't take it that far" is a comfortable place to reside. Humans have their fallibles and their ways of convincing themselves "it won't happen to me." Those attitudes will never change. But seeing media like this can help open dialogues among people to hopefully at least step back and think "would I know how to back out and not be a part of the problem?" It makes you ponder tough questions about your own sense of self. In this age of digital division and politics deepening the divide between us all, it is worth trying to see things from the other perspective, and speaking up if you think actions are going too far.

I sincerely hope National Theatre Live adds this to their online "watch at home" option once the movie screening run is concluded. Everyone deserves the chance to see this play.

#david tennant #theatre #good the play #national theatre live

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thealogie · 10 months

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Do u have a fav David tennant line delivery in good omens? Mines when he says can I hear a wahoo<3

Since last week it’s just been no thoughts head empty only thinking about the way he said “and I would like to spend—ghmmm” like he has a lot of fun line deliveries too but I don’t remember anything else, he changed me forever when he said that

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milli0n-dollar-fool · 10 months

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spoilers

since mr gaiman said we could maybe write our notes as we watch each episode i’m going to start doing that because i need to understand what happened the whole season LMAO im so distracted by ep*s*d* s*x

Episode 1 – The Arrival

The thing Crowley is holding looks like the thing he used to stop time

His hair is GORGEOUS

He’s so bubbly and wholesome

Aziraphale didn’t know he was helping to make the stars

This is why Crowley wanted so badly to go to the stars with Aziraphale last season

Crowley sort of refers to Aziraphale as kind of below him? Like rank-wise (note Aziraphale is a cherub?)

Aziraphale looked so hopeful introducing himself to Crowley then he doesn’t even tell him his name LMAO

HIS EXCITED SQUEAL

Is this how he wanted to watch the world go in season 1? From space with Aziraphale?

Not aziraphale thinking Crowley was referring to him with the “look at you, you’re gorgeous”

“and I think you’ve done an excellent job” shoot me now

So this is what Crowley is like with a will to live (JOKING)

“stars everywhere” didn’t he say that in the “what are they putting in bananas these days”

Help the music sliding down when aziraphale breaks the news I didn’t notice that before

Crowley’s face

‘call it a nebula’ HE’S SO PROUD OF IT

‘if I was the one running it all’ *immediately looks around nervously*

‘how much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions’ honey you’ve got a big storm coming

THE STARS RAINING AND THE WING AHHHHHH

Love David tennant getting his name before Michael sheen in the credits

We didn’t see the blimps or raining rabbits in this season – s3?

Switched little sign thingies

THE SIGN CROWLEY WROTE ABOUT CLOSING TIMES AHH

“hello Maggie” HIS VOICE IS SO GENTLE

“what if I were to take these Shostakovich records without paying for him” HE SAYS IT SO MISCHIEVIOUSLY

Also I love some of shostakovich’s pieces

“I’m very good at forgiveness, it’s one of my favourite things” PARALLEL TO “I FORGIVE YOU” RAHHH

I like how you can see crowleys eyes behind his sunglasses

“frozen peas” he’s not letting down his man aziraphale

She has her order memorized AHRIOAA

Head empty no thoughts goob intro

HELP ME THE BARE HUG SQUEEZE I WOULD RATHER DIE

STOP LOOKING UP AND DOWN AZIRAPHALE

‘near one particular person’ ‘no certainly not’ bffr

Was the something terrible thing heaven hunting him down

His smirk at “his royal smugness is in trouble that’s so sad” AHHHH

“you’re funny. I love you” hello?

The fly in the box heh

Aww his face after ‘what box’

I will die for Muriel

TONE OF VOICE

“go back a long time’ ok

‘because there’s a naked man there?’ JEALOUSSSS

“is it something I can help you with?’ JEALOUSSSS

So like we were right about Crowley eating/drinking really fast

“purely selfish action’ not very angelic of you

I wonder what the rest of his keys are for

HIM PUTTING HIS GLASSES ON THE HORSE LMAO

“ask him properly” I jumped

“I am dusting” HE JUMPED LMAO

Dartmoor sherlock reference I see you

Arguing 25 minutes into the show I see

‘precious, peaceful, fragile’ man

‘if you refuse to help me you’re at liberty to go’ paralleling ep*s*d* s*x is gut wrenching

“no, I would love you to help me” im crying he really is picking up the pace

How long was that blue car out there for

Ngl him smiting everywhere was kinda

“you’re misunderstanding me uriel” “im understanding you very well. You think somebody should be giving orders and that someone is you” PARALLEL TO THE END

I unironically love Michael

Crowley looks so tired in his Bentley :(

For a sec I thought we were going to get traitor traitor Crowley

The way he sprawls lmao

Beelzebub trying to find the man theyre down bad for lmao

The way they converse comfortably instead of Crowley being afraid of Beelzebub

Aww Maggie being sheltered :(

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY

“theres only room for one of us in this lane and it’s not you” crying

I love how nina remembers people based off their coffee order – That’s Mr Six Shots of Expresso

“my bad” aww

The way he was listing when he did the I was wrong dance WHAT HAPPENED

Were those the years of the flashbacks I’ll check later (1650, 1793, 1941)

I love the dance I need the backstory

“very nice” rolling

“together” im crying

Parenting is going well

‘it would barely move the dials’ okay

They look so determined

Their smiles when they thought they did the miracle right aww

And theres the end of the episode folks what do we think

#this is for my use lmao #might be interesting for other people to see as well #please tell me your thoughts i can't hold this in forever #not me being the only friend with prime none of my other friends have watched it :(#i have a class tomorrow with my favourite teacher who's already watched it can't wait to lose our minds together #good omens show #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #spoilers #go2 spoilers #ready to marry anyone who diligently tags spoilers

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ddagent · 8 months

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henry/jason + forgiveness

Henry/Jason | The Final Girls | Angst | FR15 | 907 words Jason knows he will never be forgiven but, Lord, wishes he was. (References to genre typical horror) FCs: Jason McCallister (David Tennant, Henry Reid (Michael Sheen), Bernie Doyle (Constance Zimmer)

Jason McCallister learnt everything he knew about forgiveness from his father. A cold, Scottish Protestant minister, he would offer forgiveness to his flock but only those who deserved it, earned it. Late at night, his thoughts lingered on the weeks after Ben’s disappearance – the cold earth under his footsteps as he searched, the placating hand on Missus McDonald’s shoulder as Reverend McCallister uttered the words maybe it’s for the best. Jason screaming at his father to do something as an empty casket was buried instead; the sleek red bicycle sold off to someone in the town over.

As night slipped further into morning, Jason’s thoughts – as they often did – turned towards Henry.

There were three versions of Henry, inside his head. There was author Henry – back in the UK, back then, Jason had read all his books. Devoured mysteries with answers; crimes that were solved. He’d attended a few panels and book signings and had once lobbied to interview him with no luck at all. That interview would come later, with murderer Henry. Shackles around his wrists, a haunted look in his eyes. He had been sweet and charming and…lovely but Jason had seen through the act that was not an act at all. Branded him monster – all for the best. Then there was his Henry. This Henry. Still charming and delightful but there was a bite that wasn’t there before. It left Jason wanting, coveting.

Covetousness is idolatry.

Lying in bed, Jason indulged in worship. Rather than scrolling through whatever new hook-up app Nico, his producer, had put on his phone, Jason took to Henry’s Instagram. Private settings but he was a friend, now. Allowed in the inner circle of private snapshots of Henry in his home in Venice, of perusing second-hand book shops. Henry had been arrested for his wife Marlene’s murder in 2004. No real social media back then but there had been two strained photoshoots of Henry and his new stepchildren. They didn’t have the ease of Henry and the Doyles. Bernie and her girls: shots of Dani’s vegetable garden and badly applied stage make-up for Ash’s new short film. Henry with his arm around Bernie – law partners, the best and oldest of friends.

She was forgiven.But not Jason. Never Jason.

His phone sprung to life. Henry, as if summoned by Jason’s prayers. He slid the accept call button across the screen. “Hen,” he began, as if he hadn’t spent the last half hour stalking him through social media. “This is late.”

“Put on Lifetime.”

Jason followed as instructed and immediately groaned. Written to Kill was a truly shocking ninety minutes dramatizing the events of Henry’s arrest and trial, with the last act focusing on the events of their short acquaintance. In the movie, Jason was played by some brash American doing a dreadful English accent (never mind that Jason, himself was Scottish), who conspired to gain a murderer’s trust by flattery and deception. The film was five minutes from the end; the journalist was outlining everything his subject had done wrong – every truth he’d failed to conceal, every previous lie he’d unpicked. The actor playing Henry stared, eyes glinting, as the question of whether he really killed his wife was finally revealed.

But I thought we were—

Whatever the end to that sentence was, Jason would never hear it. He would never be forgiven; never be absolved. And why should he? He saw an innocent man and, with his father’s hand upon his shoulder, condemned him in print and publication. Maybe it’s for the best. God, fuck, why were they even watching this? Did Henry want to torture him? What was next: deliver a copy of his article to his office every day? But he deserved it. You deserve worse, you deserve worse, you deserve so much worse—

“—shame it’s at the end; thought we could have a good laugh at it. Utterly ridiculous. They’re missing out half the real story as well.” That was Jason’s fault. The omissions in his article. Fourteen weeks instead of seven; letters exchanged in between visits. Bribes spent removing Henry’s chains so he could touch and be touched. Of course, you thought we were; so did I. “Maybe we could rent it, or something? Watch it together. Laugh at them. Just wait twenty years – you’ll be friends.”

“We-we are?”

A pause. Then: “Of course we are. I, well, I thought we were.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely, Hen. We’re friends. We’re friends.”

Four months ago, Jason had been on the hunt for a missing boy. A case that had consumed him: he’d gone to Bernie and her…associates for help. It’s what they did: find people, help people, save people. It came at a cost; all third act victories did. As Jason nursed a concussion and Henry his broken ribs, Bernie had passed him a drink. Two fingers of whiskey. He’d stared, unable to reconcile the DA that had hugged Marlene’s children close as Henry had been sentenced to life in prison and the woman that had pushed him out the way of a speeding van. There was DA Bernie and final girl Bernie and countless versions in between. He just stared and asked: Does it ever bother you? What we did to him?

After a moment, she nodded. I can’t go into that courtroom. But he can – and has. If Henry has taught me one thing, it is the enviable and unyielding power of forgiveness.

Amen.

#original fic: the final girls #ch: bernie doyle #ch: jason mccallister #ch: henry reid #told you i'm obsessed

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denimbex1986 · 6 months

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'David Tennant and Catherine Tate one again got lost in space-time in Wild Blue Yonder, an hour of television brimming with all the mystery and humor we’ve come to expect from Russell T Davies-scripted Doctor Who.

First, a very quick recap of last week’s The Star Beast to jog your memory: The Doctor and Donna Noble are rocketing through time and space in a broken TARDIS. They had just defeated the Meep and eagerly boarded the TARDIS before it malfunctioned. Donna, having blue-balled her own cosmic doom by sharing Time Lord energy with her daughter Rose, is fierce, quippy, and every bit the feisty foil to Tennant’s erratic, spacey, mostly relaxed Doctor.

Special 2: Wild Blue Yonder kicks off in 17th-Century England, where a chipper Isaac Newton settles under a tree for some afternoon reading. As an apple tumbles from the branches and clocks Newton, the TARDIS crashes into the tree. The Doctor pokes his spiky-haired head out of the smoking time machine and asks Newton what year it is. A shocked Newton answers: “1666.”

They leave Newton to grapple with what he just witnessed, proceeding to “park” the TARDIS elsewhere. An angry jet of flame forces them out of the TARDIS and into what appears to be a spaceship. We’re treated to some fun Donna/Doctor banter (“I think a non-sonic screwdriver is called a screwdriver!”) as the Doctor attaches the sonic screwdriver to the busted TARDIS to begin repairing it. Before they can properly inspect their surroundings, the TARDIS abruptly vanishes. The Doctor says their only hope is its built-in HADS (Hostile Action Displacement System), which enables the TARDIS to flee from danger. The Doctor had disabled it years ago, but the TARDIS’ self-rebuild switched it back on.

They proceed into a vast hallway, finding no other signs of “life” aside from a rusty three-eyed robot. It isn’t until the Doctor pilots the spacecraft through a starless cosmos that he understands where they are: the edge of the universe.

He and Donna return to the empty hallway and begin exploring. As they get a measure of their surroundings, they talk. It’s a harmless, seemingly unimportant conversation — mostly a protracted lament interspersed with the same odd, repeated statement from the Doctor: “My arms are too long.”

The scene changes slightly. Donna and the Doctor seem to be in a different room, having a similarly innocuous exchange before Donna repeats, “My arms are too long.” The Doctor realizes this isn’t his Donna, and immediately starts shouting. The real Donna, having figured out the Doctor she’s with isn’t her Doctor, bolts. The real Doctor and Donna regroup in the hallway, but their copies, now enormous, grotesque monstrosities, arrive and loudly pursue them.

They escape their rampaging copies but are separated again. They quickly reunite, but something is off. They start interrogating each other, watching closely for any hint of deception. The Doctor realizes that the copies are becoming more and more like them by reading their thoughts. Their goal, he guesses, is to become clones so convincing that they can fool the TARDIS into rescuing them instead of the real Doctor and Donna. This culminates with a startling revelation: the ship is a bomb, and the robot in the never-ending hallway is the trigger.

A desperate race to the trigger ensues, with the Doctor and Donna copies gaining a significant lead. Donna and the Doctor manage to catch up to the imposters, buying enough time for the countdown to end and, as the Doctor phrases it, the hostile action to end. The TARDIS reappears, and the Doctor and Donna escape the ship as it explodes, incinerating their copies and avoiding yet another catastrophe.

Wild Blue Yonder then leaves us on a reunion and a cliffhanger: Donna and the Doctor arrive back in London, where they meet up with Wilf (the late Bernard Cribbins, who got a memorial card during the end credits) moments before chaos erupts in the streets. A commercial plane crashes into the city, and the closing credits roll.

Is the Toymaker (Neil Patrick Harris) gearing up for his grand entrance?'

#The Star Beast #Wild Blue Yonder #David Tennant #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #Bernard Cribbins #Wilfred Mott #Doctor Who #60th Anniversary #Russell T. Davies

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Don’t Go - [Reid x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: After being tortured by Tobias Hankel, Dr. Spencer Reid is struggling and everyone can see it. Reader can’t bear his pain and tries to comfort him...only to be heartbroken when he says their night meant nothing.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.6k

Genre: Angst. Angst. Angst. But fluff at the end cause I’m not a monster.

Content Warning: Talk of drug use, language, penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), and just angst. All the angst. Get tissue.

A/n: This is set over the arc of episodes 2x16 - 2x18. A special thank you to @imjusthereformggcontent and @catsadams for reading through the beginning of this in its first form. You’re both angels. I hope this is everything y’all wanted it to be, my doves. Thank you for sticking with me.

Request prompt: Can you write a fic where Spencer is high on dilaudid and tells you that your night together was nothing and that you're nothing to him. Then the next day he can't rember telling you and and he can't figure out why you are avoiding him.

-- Don’t Go --

The first indication I got that today wasn’t going to be normal came when Special Agent Grant Anderson shuffled into my office just after 9:30 am. He didn’t knock before he entered and then shut the door quickly behind him.

I glanced up from the paperwork in front of me, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. ��Something on your mind, Special Agent?” I teased.

Ever since Anderson made a mistake that led to SSA Elle Greenaway being shot a few months ago, a lot of people on this floor had been giving him the cold shoulder, despite the fact that Greenaway had forgiven him before she left the BAU.

When I first joined the bureau and was assigned to this unit, Anderson had been my first friend. He was there for me when I felt nervous and like I was a complete imposter. He’s the reason I was still a member of this team; I’d never turn my back on him.

“Something’s up with Reid.”

I propped both of my elbows on the desk, my chin resting on my folded hands. “Well, he was just abducted and tortured. That’s gonna have an effect on someone.”

Anderson was already shaking his head before I got done speaking. “This is different. I just tried to talk to him while he was getting some coffee. I asked him about David Tennant taking over as The Doctor and he…he snapped at me, y/l/n.”

Okay, that’s odd. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking,” I defended. “He was tortured, Grant.”

“I’ve known him since I started here. He’s…something is wrong.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “It can’t be anything too bad. I mean, he’s surrounded by profilers. His mentor is Jason Gideon for god’s sake. If something was wrong, they’d know.”

Anderson walked forward and braced his palms on my desk, his eyes boring into mine.

“Dr. Spencer Reid is also one of the best profilers in the world. I’m telling you, y/n, something is wrong.”

I conceded with a sigh. “What do we do?”

“I think you should talk to him.”

My spine stiffened. “Me? Why?” But I knew why.

Anderson scoffed. “You know how he looks at you. And I know how you look at him.”

Dr. Spencer Reid’s nervousness around me could have been blamed on many things, Anderson insisted it meant he liked me. I wasn’t convinced…because I saw how he looked at JJ.

How I looked at Reid was obvious. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met, he was kind, sweet, and his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. My heart fluttered when he realized he was rambling and he blushed, and my day was made whenever he would seek me out to talk to me.

I had a crush on Spencer Reid.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

He shot me a relieved smile and backed away from the desk. “Sooner than later, please.”

Such a sassy bitch, I thought as he shut the door.

It was well after 6 pm when I gathered my things to leave the office that day. I had been hired as one of the many, many agents that worked under JJ. Media liaison wasn't her only role; she also fielded hundreds of requests for FBI assistance every week. It was my job to go through those requests, make initial judgments, and then send out responses.

I had always been happier working behind the scenes, so a job filled with paperwork suited me just fine. All I wanted to do was help catch bad guys, and with the BAU I felt like I was making a difference.

Speaking to Reid had been on my mind all day, but I had expected that I'd have the night to think up a plan of attack then talk to him first thing in the morning, but when I walked past the bullpen I saw him at his desk.

The entire floor appeared to be empty apart from him. His shoulders were hunched, his head resting in his hands.

I was opening the doors before I realized what was happening. I had crossed the distance until I was standing in front of him before I even knew what I was going to say.

“Reid,” I said softly. I almost touched him, but I didn’t think he’d like that. He didn’t seem to like to be touched.

His head snapped up; the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, his hair was messier than usual, and his clothing was in disarray. He cleared his throat, his tongue running over his dry lips.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," I began, standing at the end of his desk. "I don't even know how to begin to think about it. So, I won't ask you to talk about it. I won't ask you to talk at all. I just…I just want you to know that I'm here if you just want a friend. If you want to grab some coffee and talk about nothing…whatever."

Those warm brown eyes were duller than I’d ever seen them, but they ran over my entire body quizzically, like he wasn’t sure I was even there.

After a beat, I decided it was best to leave him to it. I couldn't force him to accept my offer…not that I would force him even if I could. "Goodnight, Reid."

I turned and made my way back to the double glass doors of the bullpen. I hadn’t heard him move, so I was completely thrown off guard when his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes looked up to meet his, confusion plain on my face.

His eyes weren't dull anymore, they were shimmering but not in any way I ever wanted to see. He swiped at his cheek angrily when the first tear fell. "Don't go," he rasped.

I won’t.

We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to the lobby. It was only when we reached the front doors of the building that I spoke. “Where do you want to go?”

He scratched at his forearm, his eyes moving over the room behind us like he was expecting someone to run out from any direction. I wasn't a profiler, but I recognized hypervigilance when I saw it.

“I don’t know. Not here.”

I nodded. “Alright. Do you want to go…get food? Coffee?” He shook his head, his hands now picking at the threads of the cardigan he wore. “We could go for a walk?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes rising to meet mine. “I don’t want to be around a lot of people right now.”

“Okay, we can-“

“But,” he interrupted. “I…I’m afraid to be alone, y/n. I’m…I’m so fucking afraid.”

I reached for him only to still my hand at the last second, millimeters away from touching him. “I won’t leave you alone, Reid.” My teeth dug into my lower lip as I thought. “We could go to your apartment. Or mine.” I quickly added when I saw how his eyes widened at the mention of his place.

“I…I don’t want to go home.” He licked his lips again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Then you don’t have to go home right now. We’ll go to my place. We can order dinner, watch a movie, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”

The look of relief on his face, combined with the smile he sent me warmed up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was cold.

The ride to my apartment was mostly silent; I had turned the radio on for background noise. Spencer’s eyes kept staring out of my passenger side window while his hands twisted in his lap.

He followed behind me quietly when we entered my building, then took the elevator up to my apartment. Spencer’s eyes glided over my apartment, taking in the photos of my friends and family on the walls, the throw pillows on my couch, and the titles on my bookshelf.

I went into the kitchen to get us both a bottle of water only to find him standing in the same spot when I returned.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, do you want to sit down?”

He nodded, following me over to my couch. I curled my feet up under myself, my hands folded in my lap. “Spencer…I know I said you don’t have to talk, and you don’t. But…I want to help. I just…I want to do anything I can to help you.” I let out a breath, embarrassed that my voice was already thick with tears. “If that means sitting here beside you and just staring at the wall that’s fine. I…I just want to help.”

Reid’s head swiveled over to face me, those beautiful brown eyes were frightened. “Tobias…he…he hurt me. And I can still feel it,” he whispered, his voice raw even in that hushed volume. “It’s all I feel. I just…I don’t want to hurt anymore, y/n. I can’t stand it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from rising up on my knees and moving towards him. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”

The words weren’t out of my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my middle, laying his head against my chest. When the first sob wracked through his body, I felt something inside of me crack. The second sob triggered my own.

I didn't know what had happened to him, and if I did know, I don't think I would ever truly understand. But the agony he was in affected me more than any pain I had ever felt myself.

My fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the soft tangles. His hair is curly, I thought absentmindedly. He always wore it slicked down…but it was curly.

Spencer finally quieted after a few moments, his sobs turning into sniffles. “Thank you.”

I gave a broken chuckle. “Don’t thank me for caring about you, Spencer.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, his eyes moving over my cheeks. “You cried for me.”

I nodded.

“Why?”

The question was so unexpected that I wasn’t prepared to do anything but tell the truth. “It hurts me to see you hurt.”

Spencer looked at me for a moment longer, absorbing my words before his palm came up and cupped my jaw, his thumb wiping my left-over tears away. He gentled pulled my head down until my lips pressed against his. Our first kiss was tender, his lips were slightly chapped but still unbelievably soft. Something about this kiss broke my heart more than his tears did.

My hands had come up to cup his face, my actions a mirror of his own. “I…I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spencer,” I mumbled out when we had pulled apart.

He chuckled softly. “You’re worried about that?” His mood became somber when I nodded. “Y/n…you know how I look at you. Everyone does. I don’t…I don’t want this if you don’t. I don’t want you to do this out of pity-“

“Spencer,” I gasped. “I would never…I’d never touch you out of pity. I-I want to touch you. I have for a long time.”

you. I have for a long time.”

Tears started to shine in his eyes again at my words. “Then please touch me, y/n. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I just…I just want to feel how I feel when you hold me. It-It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”

Our lips came together the second time in understanding and hope. My mouth brushed against his with a promise that I was touching him because I wanted to. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it while his hands wove into my hair.

I moved to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of him, while my hands started working on the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer’s tongue ghosted against my lips; the groan he gave when I immediately let him inside made my core throb.

He froze when I started to push his shirt off his shoulders. “What is it?”

“It’s…I don’t want you to see…what he did to me. Please?”

I moved off of him quickly, extending my hand to pull him from the couch. I led him down the hall to my bedroom, not turning on the overhead light when we entered; the only source of light was a sliver of moonlight through the curtains.

“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to,” I whispered. “Do you…”

His lips crushed against mine, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me against his body. Those long fingers started working my shirt up my body, breaking away momentarily to pull it over my head.

Once my pants were down my thighs, he pushed me back onto the bed. He had removed his cardigan but left his button-up shirt on. I reached behind myself to unhook my bra, feeling a sudden nervousness rise up in my chest.

His fingers were warm when they brushed over my collarbones, drifting down over my breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I pulled him on top of me when I leaned back on the bed, our lips meeting in a heated frenzy. He palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, causing me to arch up against him.

Spencer’s lips moved down until he was mouthing my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, all the while his hand ghosted down my body until his fingers hooked on the top of my panties.

His head lifted, his eyes searching mine. “Can I touch you?”

I nodded, my hand moving atop his, guiding him inside my panties; I couldn’t control my gasp when his fingers parted my folds to brush against me.

My hands went to his belt. “I-is this okay?”

He nodded, his mouth coming down to cover the tip of my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple to a point. Those long fingers gathered wetness from my opening to bring it up to circle my clit. Ever the scientist, Spencer paid attention to every reaction I had, he wanted to learn how to touch me.

When his middle and ring finger entered me, his palm grinding against my clit, I finally got his pants open. My hand snacked inside to palm his cock, pulling a grown from him.

“Can I push these down a bit?”

“Please,” he breathed, his lips coming over mine.

His pants were down to his mid-thighs before I wrapped my hand around him. He was bigger than I expected, not overly thick, but longer than anyone I had been with before.

“Y/n,” he whimpered against my lips, his fingers speeding up inside of me.

I gave a few pumps, my movements uncoordinated. “I want to feel you inside me, Spence. Please?”

Reid groaned, removing his fingers from my heat. “Do you have a condom?”

I turned to my bedside table, fumbling in the darkness. When I turned back to face him, I saw two of his fingers in his mouth. The same two fingers that had just been inside of me.

“Jesus,” I breathed out, finding the sight of him sucking my arousal off his fingers incredibly erotic.

He took the condom from me, his lips quirking up in a smile. "I've…I've never done that before." His eyes moved down to my still covered pussy. "I want to…but I-I don't want this time to be worse for you than it has to be," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Hey," I muttered, my hands cupping that well-defined jaw. "This isn't going to be bad for me, Spencer. Just being with you is wonderful."

My words felt heavy in the air. Because they were true.

Spencer swallowed thickly, rolling the condom down over his length. I tugged my panties off, leaving me totally bare to him, while he still had most of his clothing on.

Even with that weird detail, this was still wonderful; being with Spencer like this was…everything.

I gripped him, lining him up at my entrance. His forehead dropped against mine when he started to push inside of me.

“Spence,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his hips.

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Better than okay. You feel so good.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think anything could feel better than…fuck.” His slim hips pressed against mine when he was fully sheathed inside of me.

I felt my pussy flutter at his words. I’d never heard Spencer curse like that before.

We started a steady pace; his thrusts were even, and my hips rose to meet them. His arms were braced on either side of my head, his lips brushing against mine while he fucked me.

Calling it fucking seemed wrong. It was so much more.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

My hand squeezed down between our bodies to rub my clit. “Hold on. I’m almost there.” I whined out.

His moan seemed to tingle across my skin when he dropped his head against my shoulder. “I want to feel you cum, baby.”

I whimpered at his words. “Spencer, harder. I need it harder.”

His hips snapped against mine as he slammed into me, I felt his teeth on the tender skin where my neck and shoulder met for a second before he bit down.

The mix of pain with pleasure sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on him as I found my own orgasm, pulling him over the edge with me.

My fingers ran over his back, scratching at the material of his shirt. I breathed his name out over and over while I floated back down from my high.

I felt his tongue soothe over the bite mark he had just given me as he gave a few more jerks inside of me before pulling out. He placed the sweetest kiss against my lips and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but not with tears this time.

After we cleaned up, we ordered take out and watched some sci-fi movie that was on cable. I couldn’t tell you a thing about it; I was too busy watching Spencer’s face when he told me all about it. I was enraptured by his voice, the way his hands moved.

He was so beautiful.

Before I was ready, I realized that it was already approaching midnight. “It’s late,” I said.

He nodded. “I should go.”

It was childish, but I couldn’t stop my lip from jutting out in a pout, causing him to laugh.

“What is it, beautiful?” he questioned, his voice teasing.

I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ‘beautiful’ me, Spencer Reid,” I scolded, delighted when he laughed. “I just…I’m not ready for you to go.”

Something in Spencer’s eyes changed. He seemed almost relieved at my words. “I’m not ready to go either.”

I leaned over, placing a soft kiss in the center of his lips. “Then don’t go.”

Spending the night with Spence was worth how early I had to wake up the following morning to drive him by his apartment before work. I had offered to wait and give him a ride to work, but he had gotten a text from Garcia. They had gotten called to Houston for a case; Morgan was going to swing by and get him.

“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised, cupping my face when he kissed me goodbye.

The circles under his eyes this morning weren’t as dark as they had been before.

I could barely contain my excitement when we got the notification that the team was headed back. Part of me felt silly for being so excited. I mean, it was just one night; but it hadn’t felt like just one night.

Spencer hadn’t called me during the few days he’d been in Texas, but I hadn’t really expected him to. If anyone understood his job, it was someone who worked with his team. The BAU was such an elite unit within the FBI for a reason; they would stop at nothing to solve a case.

When the glass doors of the bullpen opened and I saw Hotch stride in, heading for his office, I couldn’t contain my smile.

“I saw that,” Anderson muttered.

I reached out and smack his arm. “You wanted me to talk to Reid.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “And judging by that mark on your neck you did more than talk.”

I scowled at him. “See if I’m on your side the next time you fuck up,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t take my words to heart.

He just offered me a wide smile. That’s how Anderson had lasted so long here, he never really held onto anything.

“Your man doesn’t look so good,” he said suddenly.

I turned, my eyes seeking out Spencer. He was right, the dark circles were back under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction.

He never turned his head in my direction.

I had wanted to give Spencer some space when he first arrived back. What if something about this case had affected him? I thought that maybe that was the reason he had been avoiding me.

My department always had more paperwork than usual when the team came back from a case, so I wasn’t able to leave until after 7. While I gathered up my things I debated about calling Reid, thinking he was already gone. When I went to take Hotch some files about 20 minutes earlier Spencer was rushing out of the bullpen with his bag clutched in his hands.

Even though I wasn’t expecting to see him, I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the glass doors when I passed by out of habit.

He was sitting at his desk. His head was tilted back, and it looked like his eyes were closed. Even in a position that most people would appear relaxed in, he still seemed incredibly tense.

I can just pop in and tell him hi, I reasoned. Let him know I’m not expecting anything, but I’m here for him.

I had given a lot of thought to my relationship with Spencer over the days he was gone. He was still healing from what happened with Tobias, it wasn’t fair of me to put unreasonable expectations on him right now. I was his friend before anything else. I could put my personal feelings aside if I needed to.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open and headed towards his desk. The only person still at their desk was the newest member of the team, SSA Prentiss.

“Hey, y/n,” she greeted.

I had intended to return her greeting, but Spencer’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. The look in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like my presence in this space was annoying to him.

Reid stood abruptly, pulling the strap of his messenger back up on his shoulder before he brushed past me. I had barely processed his actions before he was already leaving the bullpen.

“Spence!” I called. “Hang on!”

He just kept walking. I all but sprinted in my attempt to catch up to him. “Spencer, what the fuck,” I whispered. I knew he had seen me. Once I was closer to him, I reached out and gripped his elbow in an attempt to get his attention.

His entire body jerked as he spun around to face me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words.

My body recoiled from him like he’d slapped me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought…I just…”

Just then a pair of agents walked past us and they did not bother hiding the curiosity in their eyes.

Spencer’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm, pulling me along behind him. The hold he had on my arm was almost painful, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My brain was still playing his words over and over again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He didn’t stop until we reached the copy room; he jerked the door open and shoved me inside.

“Spencer!” I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing the skin with my other hand. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“You thought what?” he snarled taking a step closer to me. “You thought that because I fucked you that means you’re my girlfriend now or something?”

My eyes widened at his words. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach while some unnamable feeling made me throat constrict. “N-no, I didn’t think that. I just-“

I had heard Spencer’s laugh so many times before, it used to make me smile every time I heard it. People who hadn’t heard him laugh before might have thought the sound that he made when he heard my words was a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was harsh and brittle. His face was pulled into a smile that was condescending.

“Are you sure, y/l/n? Because you’ve sure been fucking acting like it all day. I feel your pathetic little looks everywhere I turn. Like I kicked your dog or something.”

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes because…this wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t my Spencer. My Spencer couldn’t use chopsticks and held my face when he kissed me.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned in disgust. “Are you going to cry, y/n? Are you kidding me right now?”

People always say terrible things happen so fast, it’s what I read in witness statements all the time. This was a terrible thing, but time seemed to slow down for it. I saw everything in perfect detail, I heard every single syllable that came out of this mouth.

When the first tear slid down my cheek that dark, brittle laugh left his mouth again. “If you weren’t being so pathetic, I might feel bad for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks.

“Why am I doing what, y/n?” His voice was so much louder than it was before. It didn’t make sense that he brought me to a more private place to avoid attention but now he was…yelling at me. “We fucked, do you get that? That is all! I don’t know what sad little schoolgirl fantasy you built up in your mind, but that night wasn’t special to me.”

Oh. I swallowed down my emotion, my eyes moving away from him to stare down at the floor. I wished I was the sort of person that could lash out whenever I was hurt, to hurt that person back as badly as they hurt me; but it’s just not who I was.

Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, Spencer moved closer to me. His fingers brushed over the strands of hair that hung near my shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, y/n. You’re not special. You were just a desperate girl that wanted attention. You were a pussy to use.”

I jerked back violently at his words, putting as much distance as I could between us. My entire body felt so cold, my face frozen in a mask of confusion.

Reid scoffed once more before he turned and left the room.

He never looked back at me.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in the copy room after he’d left. It may have been seconds; it could have been hours. I think I was in some sort of shock; my body just autopiloted to a place I felt safe.

I don’t remember unlocking my office door. I don’t remember collapsing in my chair and burying my head in my hands while sobs tore out of my chest.

All I remember is hearing my name a moment before I felt someone standing beside me.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called softly. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

I lifted my head and looked into the worried face of one of my best friends.

Anderson didn’t say anything further, he just pulled me up from my chair and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.

Pain is a universal experience, but everyone feels it differently. Everyone heals differently.

My grandmother used to say, “Everything will be different in the morning.” I was never sure if that was true or not, but today I chose to believe it was. The pain and humiliation that burned in my gut when I remembered Spencer’s words yesterday wouldn’t last forever.

I had made a mistake. I had let someone use my body only to find out that person wasn’t who I thought they were. I wasn’t the first person to make that mistake, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the last.

Anderson had stayed with me in my office last night while I pulled myself together enough to go home. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he wasn’t stupid, I’m sure he suspected what had broken my heart.

In a perfect world, I would have fallen for someone like Grant Anderson. He was kind, funny, and a constant source of comfort when I felt my world breaking apart.

I had always tried to think of each painful moment as a lesson in some way, and lessons can teach you both good and bad things. Even my worst moments of pain, I couldn’t regret the choices that lead me to them. Every single experience shapes us into who we grow to be.

One day, when this pain in my heart wasn't so sharp, I think I might be able to look back on my night with Spencer Reid without feeling regret. He had been my friend, he was hurting. How I tried to help his suffering was a mark of who I was.

How he caused me pain was a mark of who he was.

Grant had sent me a text around 6 am, asking me if I was going to take some personal time. The BAU wasn't assigned to an active case today, but I had sent some files over to JJ that looked promising. My money was they'd be headed out to New Orleans tomorrow to catch a serial killer once she had reviewed those files.

A very large part of myself wanted to stay home; I wanted to hide from my pain and tend to my wounded heart in private. But no matter how big that part of me was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let this pain consume me.

I wouldn’t let it.

With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked into the headquarters of the FBI.

The hardest moments after a tragedy are the moments after; after the first wave of pain has passed and you’re expected to go back to your normal life. The world never slowed down just because you were in agony.

JJ came by and told me she thought New Orleans looked promising and asked if I could contact the lead detective for any updates then forward those to her.

She wasn’t a profiler but even she knew something was wrong. Right before she walked out of my office she said, “Hey, are you okay?”

It's always so much worse when they ask you if you're okay because they never want an honest answer. So, on top of all the agony, you feel you have to pull off a convincing lie.

“Just tired, JJ.”

I don’t think she quite believed me, but she was kind enough not to push me any further.

A few hours later JJ was on the phone the detective heading up the investigation into the murders happening in the French Quarter. It looked like the team was heading out to New Orleans sometime tomorrow morning.

My job mostly had me working with JJ, but SSA Hotchner was the unit chief. It wasn’t uncommon that I had to get his signature of approval on something JJ needed. So, when it was time to stop by Hotch’s office, I made my way there with no outward reluctance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spencer standing around the cluster of desks that housed his teammates. They all called out in greeting after I dropped the files off, but I had only waved over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.

Anderson had been popping in and out of my office all morning. First, he had made excuses for coming by, but much to my amusement he had dropped the façade after he came to ask me if he could borrow a pen…while he was holding a pen.

The biggest dilemma of my day was over coffee. Of course, I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and I was dragging. Caffeine was obviously the answer.

But if you knew Spencer Reid, you know he was always at the coffee machine in the BAU bullpen.

I could just go downstairs to counterterrorism, I thought idly. But if I’m already in the elevator I could just run down the block and get coffee. JJ wouldn’t mind.

I was still debating my options when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

I am not proud of my actions, I’m truly not. But there is only one person in this whole building who would knock on a door that hesitantly.

The blinds in my office were closed…but I had left the door unlocked.

On instinct, I slid out of my chair, knees hitting the floor, and hid under my desk.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n? I mentally scolded myself. This is a new low, even for you.

It turned out to be pointless anyway.

He didn’t open the door.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Anderson began. “But…”

“I have to tell you?” I supplied after a beat.

He flopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Exactly.”

The small smile that curled up on my face was the first real smile I’d had in almost 24 hours.

How had it only been 24 hours?

“Listen,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “I know it’s about Reid. I’m not a profiler, but it’s all that makes sense.”

“How’s that?”

One of his dark brown eyebrows raised at the question. “I mean, even if we ignored everything else, the fact that he keeps walking past your office door is a dead giveaway.”

I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Grant, I can’t right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” I whispered out. “I don’t…I need to hold it together. Just for a while longer.”

Grant reclined his back against the chair, his eyes surveying me. “Fine. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I don’t like feeling like this.

“Alright,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I have to go run some sort of errand for Garcia.”

I didn’t bother asking, he’d say it was “classified.”

All the air seemed to leave the room when he opened the door.

Spencer was standing on the other side, his hand up like he had been about to knock.

Grant’s entire body jerked while Spencer’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” my friend demanded.

The most startling thing was how surprised Spencer looked at Grant’s tone; like it was some oddity that one of my closest friends would have been angry on my behalf.

“C-can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.

I licked my lips, weighing my options. How could he hurt me any worse? I gave Grant a nod, signaling that I was okay. He moved out of the way, granting Spencer entry, but I knew my friend; he wouldn’t be far.

The man in front of me waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “Did I do something?”

My eyes had dropped down to my hands only to shoot up to his face at those words. What?

“To make you upset?” he clarified. “I…you’ve been avoiding me all day. And I know you were in here earlier when I knocked.”

His words tore at the bandages I had wrapped my heart in, ripping my wound open again. All I could do was wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt to physically hold myself together. “W-why would I want to talk to you?”

If possible, he looked even more confused than I felt. “What is going on?” He took a step towards me. “Baby-“

My reaction to hearing that word come out of his mouth was visceral. I shot to my feet, almost stumbling over my chair in an attempt to put more distance between us.

Spencer froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Please, y/n, you have to talk to me. It…it hurts me to see you hurt.”

Any work I had done to repair my heart was destroyed at his words. I never should have let him inside. The look on his face twisted a knife in my stomach. He had the audacity to look distraught over my tears like he wasn’t the cause of them.

“I know I said I’d call but I was just so busy with the case…I thought…you’d understand.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth while my eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears that were clouding my vision. If I couldn’t remember everything about yesterday so clearly, I would doubt that the man standing before me now was the same monster that spewed venom at me yesterday.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

He flinched at my use of his last name. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why?” I rasped out. “Do you want it to hurt more? Why are you doing this to me?”

Spencer took another step towards me, his hands were outstretched. "I don't-"

"Don't fucking touch me." I tried to fill my words with the same venom his words had yesterday when he told me the same thing, but my words came out as a broken plea.

He blinked and dropped his hands to his sides. “I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this.”

A sad sort of laugh came out of my mouth at his words.

Somehow the non-acknowledgment of my pain hurt worse than anything. “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot our conversation yesterday?”

Spencer shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “No, I didn’t talk to you yesterday.”

What? “Yes, you did.” My voice shook but my words still tumbled out of my mouth. “You pulled me into the copy room and told me…you told me that our night together was nothing…you told me that I was nothing.”

His brows knit together, his mouth popping open. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re everything, y/n.”

“Reid, please…I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t take this. I can’t…” My shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t make me feel this again.”

“Pathetic?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? Is this…is this some sort of game? You don’t want to be with me…so you do this? Did Anderson tell you about my mom?”

“What?”

“My mom has schizophrenia. Is that why you’re trying to make me feel crazy?”

My brows knitted together. “I…Nobody told me about your mom. I’m not trying to make you feel crazy. And I wanted to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want to be with me.”

He still denied my words. “No, I haven’t talked to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You avoided me all day yesterday. When I finally came to talk to you in the bullpen you walked past me like I wasn't there. Then I went after you." I held up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to show him the finger-shaped bruises. "You dragged me into the copy room. You told me I was pathetic. You mocked me. You told me I was just some girl…some pussy for you to use."

He kept flinching at my words like they were whips leaving lashes all over his body.

“You told me I was nothing. You told me our night together was nothing.”

“No.” He continued to shake his head. “I…I wouldn’t say that. But I especially wouldn’t say that to you. You’re wrong.”

I just shrugged. “Ask Prentiss. She saw me follow you out of the bullpen yesterday. Ask Garcia to pull the security footage. There’s probably a recording of you breaking my heart.”

“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over again.

“I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t remember, Spencer.”

He didn’t say anything else; he just turned and left my office, slamming the door behind him.

JJ was suspicious when I called her from my office phone instead of just walking over to see her, but she didn’t ask any questions about the mysterious illness I told her had hit me. She just told me that she hoped I felt better and to take all the time I needed.

I knew that the team was set to fly out after JJ presented the case at 10 am in the morning, meaning that going back to work tomorrow wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how badly I hurt now, I couldn’t lay down and cry about it.

Part of me was afraid if I laid down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

With that in mind, I would give myself today to feel the full force of my heartbreak. I would cry when I wanted to, I’d watch sad movies and make myself cry more, I’d eat junk food that ultimately only made me feel worse. I would feel this pain for one day.

I told myself Spencer Reid didn’t deserve more of my tears than that. I told myself that over and over again until I almost believed it.

Anderson had been texting me all day to check-in, I had even gotten a nice call from Penelope Garcia asking me if I needed anything.

The most unexpected call came at 8 pm that night from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Y/n?” the voice asked. “This is Prentiss.”

Oh. “Oh. Hi, Emily.”

“Listen, I called for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to check in on you, and the second is…the second is a bit more personal.”

Oh. I cleared my throat. “I’m as good as I can be, Emily.”

She sighed. "I figured. Which brings me to my second question. Did something happen between you and Reid?" After a few moments of my silence, Prentiss hurried on. "You don't have to tell me. It's just that…Reid came up to me this afternoon and demanded to know if I had seen you come into the bullpen to talk to him yesterday."

“What did you say?”

“Um, I told him yes. Because I did. What is going on?”

My fingers picked at the edges of the blanket in my lap. “I don’t know. Anderson thinks something is up with him.”

“We all think something is up with him.”

Her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.

I arrived to work the following morning at 9 am, a full thirty minutes later than usual. JJ had stopped by my office to see how I was doing, followed by a visit from Prentiss. Garcia had teetered into the room about 15 minutes after Emily left, giving me a frosted cookie that was bigger than my hand.

“Cookies help,” she had said confidently.

I hoped she was right.

Anderson popped in last. "Hey, ooh." He skidded to a stop. "You look terrible."

I shot him a withering look. “Thank you so much, Grant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“…That I look terrible?”

He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Anyway, Hotch needs the mileage forms for the SUVs. I can run it over to him.”

My teasing tone vanished. “I’ve got it, Grant.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I had to believe it was. Or at the very least it would be soon.

It took every ounce of will power I had not to let my eyes wander over to his desk when I entered the bullpen. I could almost feel him looking at me. It went against every natural instinct I had to ignore him…but what else could I do?

Hotch wasn’t in his office when I knocked but the door was unlocked. He never minded if we walked in when he was out if we just had something to drop off. I tried to find an open space on his desk to set the forms when I heard the door squeak on its hinges behind me.

I spun around, my startled eyes connecting with a pair of sharp brown eyes.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Agent Gideon. I didn’t see you there.”

He gave me a small smile, but that sharp look didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would have,” he said simply. “It’s hard to notice anyone else when you’re trying so hard to not notice someone.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gideon just nodded. “I’m going to tell you something. Now, you can take these words to heart, and I hope you do, or you can take them as the ramblings of…a sentimental old man.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Okay.”

"A lot of people think that the most important thing you can have in a relationship is love," he began, his eyes never wavering from mine. "In my not so humble opinion, they are incorrect. You see, y/l/n, love fades. Love isn't a thing that can stay in one form forever. It's always changing… its fluid."

“Sir, I don’t-“

“You know what the most important thing is?” he asked as if I hadn’t spoken. “Mercy.”

I just blinked at him. “I…I don’t think I understand.”

He just smiled at me, his hands moving into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe not yet, but I think you will.” Gideon’s gaze broke from mine, looking through the windows of Hotch’s office to settle on Reid. His head was bent over his desk while his fingers ran over the pages in front of him. “He’ll need mercy, y/n. More than anything else.”

Agent Gideon turned back to look at me. “He’ll need it from all of us, but I don’t think he’ll need it from anyone more than you.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I truly didn’t understand what he was talking about.

With one final smile, he turned and left the office, leaving me with my thoughts.

Agent Gideon’s words were still swirling through my mind the following afternoon when I got another odd call from Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, y/l/n,” she began, her tone annoyed. “Listen, have you heard from Reid?”

My entire body stilled. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“He was supposed to meet us at the plane. Morgan and I are waiting for him but he isn’t answering his cell.”

I hated the worry that wormed its way through my heart at her words. “I’m sorry, Em. I haven’t talked to him.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It was a long shot. Thanks, y/n.”

For several minutes after she hung up, I just stared at my phone. Don’t, I told myself firmly. He’s not your problem.

Spencer Reid wasn't my problem…but I couldn't just stop caring about him overnight. That's not the sort of person I was.

I kept telling myself I was calling to check on him for me, because I was the sort of person who checked on their friends.

It didn’t make it easier when he didn’t answer my calls either.

The need to silence the shrill ringing of my phone pulled me from my sleep the following night. I still hadn't heard from Spencer, but Prentiss had called me this morning to tell me Reid had gone to see one of his friends and "didn't have a signal." Her tone indicated she thought he was full of shit.

My eyes cracked open to look at the caller ID. When I read the name of the person calling me, my fingers frantically pushed “accept.”

“Spencer?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

I sat up in my bed, my eyes looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s after 3 am. Did something happen with the case?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. The unsub is a woman. We tried to catch her tonight…but we can try again tomorrow.”

“You’ll get her.”

The only sound I heard was his uneven breathing. “That’s not why I called.”

My tongue ran over my lips while I pulled the blankets further up my chest like they would be able to protect me in some way. "Why did you call?"

“Do you think people deserve forgiveness?”

“I…I think it depends.”

“On what?” he asked desperately.

“On what they did…on if they’re sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did you do something, Spencer?”

“I made a mistake.”

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t just talking about what had happened between us. He sounded just like I remembered him sounding when I wrapped my arms around him that night he came to my house.

His voice broke when he spoke again. “I’m so lost, y/n,” he sobbed. “I’m so lost and I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

I fought to control my own emotions when he spoke. No matter what happened my heart still ached at the pain in his voice. “You might be lost, Spencer. But you’re not alone. Your team…your family found you. They brought you home. They’re still here for you. They’ll bring you home again.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own dark sea of pain.

“I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me,” he said at last. “So, I won’t ask. I don’t even…I don’t even remember what I said.”

I think my subconscious mind had been connecting these pieces together for a while because in the darkness of my bedroom at almost 4 am, things finally began to take shape. The darkness that hung over Spencer was finally starting to take form.

“Just focus on the case, Spencer. We can talk when you get home.”

“Wait,” he called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

I don’t think I ever will.

The clock on my wall said it was just after 7 pm the following night when there was a knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way across the room, pressing my eye to the peephole, slightly surprised at who I saw.

I had figured he would come for me at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to be the very moment he got back into town.

…but it isn’t the very moment, I reminded myself. JJ had texted saying their plane was landing at 5 pm this afternoon.

He didn’t knock again but he didn’t move away from the door either. I think he knew I was there, just out of his reach, debating my options.

Opening yourself up to something that might hurt you is one of the most foolish and brave things a person can do. When someone you cared about broke your trust, how could you put your heart back into those very same hands?

I remembered Gideon’s words from that afternoon before they had left for New Orleans.

Over the past several days I had realized that that day in the copy room it wasn’t actually my Spencer that said those things. Something dark and painful had clawed its way into him and was trying to hollow him out.

That dark thing didn’t deserve my mercy…but I think Spencer did.

With a deep breath, I started to unlock my front door, grateful he couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. He looked tired but a different sort of tired than I was used to seeing. Weariness had crawled underneath his skin and was draining him slowly, but he didn’t look as defeated as he did the last time I saw him.

No matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still wasn’t sure what to say

“I came…I came to explain.” He said at last.

I was still frozen in place watching him shift uncomfortably. I knew he wanted me to invite him in…but, how could I? Trusting him enough to talk to him was one thing but how could I allow him into the only place I felt safe?

Gideon’s words played through my mind again. Mercy.

Taking a step back from the door, I waved him inside. I moved to sit on the couch, but Spencer just stood in front of me.

"When Tobias abducted me…" he trailed off, balling his hands into fists. "He had dissociative identity disorder. It's much more rare than people think. Whenever it's been observed under clinical settings, the most that has been observed is 2. Tobias had three.

The first was him, the next was his father, and the last was the Archangel, Raphael. Tobias’s father abused him horribly… Charles broke something inside of him, he fractured him. The only way he could survive was to start abusing drugs. He took them intravenously.”

Gideon's words had started to weave the pieces together, but it was actually Spencer's words from our night together that cemented everything in place. “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”

"He thought he was being kind when he injected me." Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his tongue against his upper lip. "You hear about addiction; I could tell you the statistics on people who suffer from opioid addiction. But I never in a million years thought it would be me.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell from my face and hit the back of my hand.

“I’m not the person who gets addicted to things. I’m not the stereotypical picture of an addict…but that’s what I am, y/n. I’m an addict.” He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a small coin. “This is a newcomer’s chip…from narcotics anonymous. You get it at your very first meeting. I got this an hour ago.”

“Spencer,” I rasped out. “I’m so sorry.”

He came to sit beside me on the couch then, his hand covering one of mine. "I thought I could handle it. I convinced myself it wasn't that bad, but it was. What I did to you was reprehensible, y/n. And I am so sorry." Spencer's voice broke, his shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. "I will be sorry about that day for the rest of my life. I don't deserve any sort of second chance."

I turned completely towards him, throwing my arms around him. “Yes, you do, Spencer,” I whispered into his hair. “You do.”

This night felt so much different than the first night I held him like this while he cried. I didn't know the cause of his pain that night, but it broke my heart nevertheless; now that I knew the pain inside this beautiful man…I think the pain I had been feeling was tearing at my soul.

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. It’s a disease that will sink its hooks into anyone and refuse to let go. Spencer had made a mistake; his actions had gutted me. But…was it really him? Or was it the monster that has hold of him? It was in these thoughts that I finally began to understand the weight of Agent Gideon's words. "He’ll need mercy from everyone…but from no one more than you.”

I wasn’t in love with Spencer…at least not yet, but I did love him. In those moments when loving someone felt impossible mercy was the most important thing you could offer. I had to show him my mercy while he moved through this…because I knew love would come later.

“I’m here for you, Spencer. I want to help you in any way I can.”

He pulled back, his wide brown eyes meeting mine. “I can’t ask you to battle my addiction for me, y/n. I wouldn’t even if I could.” His voice was earnest when he spoke, his hands coming up to cup my face with a touch that seemed so familiar. “I promise that I’m going to try. I’m going to mess up at some point, some moments will be harder than others. I can’t…I can’t be perfect at this. But I promise I will never stop trying.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Spencer. You’re not worthy because you’re perfect. You’re worthy because you’re…you.”

His eyes were soft when they ran over my face, his hands coming up to cup my jaw again. “I can leave, if you want…I know you’ll need time…I can’t expect-“

I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just be with me. Be here with me, Spence.”

I'm not sure who moved first. It was like all the pain in my body gave way to such a burning need that it almost consumed me. Our lips barely broke apart when I pulled him from the couch, guiding him to my bedroom; our actions were so similar to what they had been on that first night that felt like a lifetime ago.

But everything was different.

My bedroom was lit only by the dusky orange glow from the setting sun. I didn’t get to question Spencer about anything. His hands moved urgently against my body, ridding me of my shirt and bra. I unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to push it off of his shoulders. My nails scored his chest while his mouth moved down to kiss the column of my throat.

Spencer’s knee was wedged between my thighs when his mouth closed over my nipple. My hands tried to move down to undo his pants but when his teeth tugged at the tip of my breast all I could do was whimper.

“Spencer. Please.”

His eyes opened and lifted to meet mine. He looked nervous for a moment before he started to kiss down my body. I lifted my hips to help him remove my pants. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, I realized he had never seen me in the light before.

I felt his index finger trace down my slit, spreading me open under his gaze. He swallowed thickly when one of his fingers entered me, pulling a moan from my throat.

“Can I?”

“Yes. Yes.” I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I would have given him anything in that moment.

I wasn’t ready when I felt his tongue tentatively lick my pussy. My hips bucked off the bed causing him to chuckle.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he spread me wider. He inserted another finger into my heat while his tongue fluttered around my clit.

“I’m trying,” I whined. “Fuck. I thought you said you hadn’t done this before.”

Spencer lifted his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. “I haven’t,” he replied, his voice needlessly smug. Before I could comment his lips closed around my clit again.

My fingers were tangled in his soft brown hair while my hips rocked against his mouth. “Spencer, I’m close. I want-fuck! I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

He rose up on his knees, his hands moving to his belt. He had looked reluctant to leave his current position, but I needed him now. "You can eat my pussy to your heart's content later."

Spencer’s hand froze, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just…you said later.” The confusion must have been plain on my face because he clarified, “I can have you later too.”

My arousal was still pulsing in my body but now something else was too. I knew he didn’t mean sex when he said he could have me; Spencer meant he could have me, he could be with me.

With that thought, I urged him up my body so I could press my lips to his again. We were still kissing when I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against me before he slowly pushed inside of me.

“You…I didn’t know something could feel like this,” he said when his hips settled against mine,

I didn’t either.

I think he must have felt the same frantic need I did. His thrusts were forceful as he drove into me. I was already so close that I could feel myself approaching my peak.

“Spence,” I whimpered out.

“I know, I feel you. You’re right there.” He reached between our bodies and rubbed his thumb across my clit.

My back arched as my orgasm washed over me, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. After a few more thrusts, I felt Spencer find his release too. He whispered my name against my hair while he slowly came down, pressing soft kisses all over any part of my skin he could reach.

The frantic mood from before had lifted, but something still felt urgent. Spencer had gotten up a few moments ago to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He hadn’t removed his clothes again, and something about the energy in the room made me put my clothes back on too.

I was sitting at the end of my bed when he came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked resigned and…almost defeated.

“Spence,” I started but he just shook his head.

He came to stand in front of me before he spoke. “I have to…I can’t hide from you.”

I stood up before he could move. “You’re not hiding anything, Spencer. Not anymore.”

He pressed his lips against mine again. I think he understood the gravity of my words and what revealing his body meant. He knew I’d see him; I’d see all of him. But whenever I looked into his eyes when he started to open his shirt, I felt like I saw more of him than I ever had.

Everything he felt was floating through his amber-colored eyes. His hands shook and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he pulled his shirt from his body.

The bend of his left elbow was covered in bruises in all different phases of healing. It looked like one of his veins might even have blown.

When I brought my eyes back up to his, I found them shut tight.

“Hey,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle, careful of his arm. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he breathed out.

I only held him tighter. “It will be. One day it will be.” I let out a shaky breath of my own before I spoke again. “You know I’m going to fall in love with you one day, right?”

His body jerked at my words, a tiny sob leaving his mouth.

“It’s true, Spencer. You have to know that. You’re worthy of love. You’re worthy of my love.”

He pulled back from me, his hands cradling my face while his eyes searched mine. “I’m not. I’m not worthy…but I’m going to try to be.”

The slashes and cracks in my heart didn’t feel so painful when I kissed him again. It wasn’t my job to fix him. It wasn’t his job to fix me.

But I could show him mercy while he fought his battle. He deserved that.

Everyone deserves that.

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#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid Angst #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y.n #Dr. Spencer Reid #Dr. Spencer Reid Angst #Dr. Spencer Reid Fluff #Dr. Spencer Reid Smut #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid Smut #Criminal minds imagine #Spencer Reid imagine #Criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid fan fiction #criminal minds fan fiction

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squiggledrop · 4 years

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Birthday Confessions - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Reader (gender neutral) and Spencer are both secretly in love with each other. Reader is going to be alone for their birthday, so Spencer comes up with a plan to surprise them.

Word Count: 4k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Kissing

Note: Written based on this request: “Spencer knows the reader doesn't have family near and celebrates it with her?” by @amofbebbanburg. So sorry this literally took me forever.

The low rumble of the jet lulled you to sleep, your head falling to rest on Emily’s shoulder. Spencer sat across from you, his eyes fixated on the slight curve of your lips as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, in tandem with the fluttering of his heart. The orange hue of his reading light dusted your cheeks, and the soft sounds you made resonated between his ears. He was so transfixed on your angelic, sleeping form, that he was unaware of the smirk plastered across Emily’s face as she watched him look at you. When he noticed her staring, he cleared his throat and abruptly returned his gaze back towards his book. Her light chuckle at his actions brought a harsh blush to his cheeks, only causing him to sink behind his book even further.

“You know, you’re not being very subtle”, Emily teased, “(Y/n)’s going to catch on sooner or later”. Spencer felt his lungs constrict as panic coursed its way through his body.

“Wha-what do you mean?”, he confoundingly replied, having realized just how obvious he had been.

“Spencer”, she said with a knowing look, “We all know how you feel about (Y/n)-”

“Emily!”, he hissed. His eyes growing tenfold as he looked back at you to make sure you were still asleep. “They’re right there!”, he pleaded, turning his head to gesture towards your unconscious form.

“Relax”, she grinned. “They’re asleep, and trust me, (Y/n) can sleep through anything”, she said, rolling her eyes fondly. Spencer fought back a smile, trying to maintain his stoic composure, as he thought of how annoyed Emily would get on cases when your absurdly loud alarm would go off and not even wake you up. You would always joke that the point of your alarm wasn’t to wake yourself but to wake up Emily so that you could be woken up by the smiling face of your best friend. Emily would always glare at you in the mornings while on cases, and you would return the favor by laughing Oh hush, you love me, as the rest of the team shook their heads at your comical antics.

Spencer bit his bottom lip as he thought about how he wouldn’t mind being woken up every morning to an air horn in his ear if it meant he got to wake up next to you. He would wake you up with gentle kisses across your face while holding you tightly to his chest. He would make sure to always have a huge smile on his face as he told you how much he loves you, just so you would start each day knowing how wonderful he thinks you are.

When the jet landed Emily gently shook her shoulder, causing you to groggily awake from your sleep. “Morning sleeping beauty”, she joked. You took in a deep breath, lifting your head and taking in your surroundings. It was dark, save for an amber halo peeking through Spencer’s deep curls. An inaudible gasp left your lips at the sight of him smiling down at you with his dark eyes that still managed to shine brighter than all the stars in the night sky. To quell the augmented flutter of your heart, you quickly turned away, hiding your flushed cheeks, before putting your head back down on Emily’s shoulder.

“Mmm, goodnight”, you sighed, closing your eyes as a smile crept its way to your lips.

“Nice try”, she laughed as she took her arm out from under you, placing a teasing pout across your face, “I’ve hit my sleeping (Y/n) quota for the week”. You reluctantly sat back up and were face to face with the man you had been hiding from. Your eyes met, and you lingered slightly too long looking at each other, completely unaware of Emily’s smirk.

“Right”, you cleared your throat, standing up. Spencer jolted his eyes back down to his book as he turned to place it in his satchel. You took this opportunity to make your way off the jet, not daring to look back at the man you were hopelessly in love with.

As you rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, you were hyper-aware of Spencer’s presence behind you. You kept sneaking glances at him, only to see he was looking at you each time you did. And each time you would both avert your eyes, just to look back a moment later.

After the team debriefed in the conference room, everyone went back to their respective desks to finish up some paperwork for the case before heading home. Luckily for you, this meant having to sit across from Spencer and using every fiber in your body to not look up at him. Spencer, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He watched as you flipped through the files on your desk, and admired how you ran your fingers through your hair, a habit of yours when you were deep in thought. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you began to chew on your lip, and he couldn’t get the idea of kissing your tender, plump lips out of his mind. You were killing him. He couldn’t focus on his work, and all he wanted was to hear your voice, he needed to.

“So, are you doing anything for your birthday this weekend?”, Spencer inquired. Your head shot up from your desk, your mind having gone blank at his question. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, while his musky brown eyes searched your face. Spencer’s face fell as he slowly turned back to the open file on his desk, figuring he said something to make you uncomfortable. Your eyes were fixated on him, as his words, that hung in the awkward silence, finally caught up to you.

“Uh, h-how did you know it was my birthday?”, you questioned, genuinely confused. You had been at the BAU for seven months, after having transferred from the San Francisco office, and you were sure your birthday, of all things, had never been the topic of conversation. It’s not that you hated your birthday, but seeing as your family lived on the other side of the country, you felt silly celebrating it beyond a text from your mom. Truth be told, you had almost forgotten it was coming up with how hectic everything has been at your new job. It was a lot different than your previous job in California, which mostly consisted of doing paperwork at your desk. But, you couldn’t be happier than where you were: doing your dream job with people that were slowly becoming your family. Emily quickly became your best friend, and your crush on the very man sitting across from you formed not long after. So, imagine your surprise when he looked at you, through dark circles that framed glazed over eyes, hazy from sleepless nights during long cases, and asked you if you had any plans for your birthday.

“Oh, um, well”, he looked away from you and scratched the back of his neck as his plump lips formed a slight smile, “i-it was in your file from when you joined, and you know, eidetic memory”. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently at you before staring back down at his desk.

“Right, of course”, you forced a smile as his head shot back up and nodded. “Well”, your face brightened in an attempt to break the palpable awkwardness that had formed between you two, “probably just going to spend it watching David Tennant on my tv while curled up on the couch with some ice cream.”

“What? For your birthday? You aren’t going out to celebrate?”, he questioned, appearing genuinely concerned.

“Well, normally I would, but drinking at a bar alone doesn’t scream ‘Happy Birthday’, you know”, you chuckled.

“You should at least have cake, everyone should get to have cake on their birthday. Actually, birthday cakes date back to ancient Rome, where people would have cakes made out of flour, nuts, yeast, and honey. However, birthday cakes became popularized in the 15th century in Germany when bakeries began making one layered cakes for people to buy to celebrate birthdays”, he said as he raised his eyebrows while his lips formed a thin smile. You couldn’t help but look at him with complete adoration as he rambled. “But, um, you aren’t even doing anything with Emily or Garcia?”, he hesitantly questioned. Your lips pressed together as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Emily treated me to lunch earlier in the week because she has plans this weekend”, you reassured him and he nodded, “Plus, it’s the first year I won’t be with my parents and I just miss them so I don’t really feel like celebrating alone”, He gave you a sympathetic smile as you shrugged. “But, I promise I’ll at least get cake batter ice cream”, you smiled while winking, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Okay good”, he said, smiling back. His warm chuckles still reverberated throughout your chest, swirling around your heart. Once again you found yourself frozen, knowing you should turn away, but not finding an ounce of strength to do so as you both just gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Well uh, goodnight”, you said, forcing yourself to look down to grab your bag and head towards the elevator. Your stomach clenched as you kept your gaze ahead, not daring to look back at him. Spencer, however, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you left. His eyes caressed each of your curves as you walked further and further away from him. He bit his bottom lip, smiling to himself as he watched you leave.

“Goodnight”, he murmured to an empty room with an obnoxious smile plastered on his face.

You woke up the next morning, the sun glaring in through your blinds. You turned over in your white, crinkled sheets, shutting your eyes in an effort to avoid the intruding rays. The ding of your phone pierced the quiet room as you sighed and rolled back over to check your phone. You groaned as you squinted at the screen, the harsh light it emitted illuminating your face.

From Derek: Hey sweet cheeks, sorry to bother you on our day off, but Hotch called a meeting. He said it’s urgent.

Great, you thought, Happy Birthday to me. You forced yourself out of bed and wasted no time getting ready before heading over to the BAU. You grabbed a granola bar on your way out, rolling your eyes, dreading having to spend your birthday working instead of sleeping all day.

When you walked into an empty bullpen, you were even more confused. You got out your phone, ready to text Morgan, but you got a text from Garcia.

From Penelope: Good morning and happy happy birthday my sweet sweet (Y/n). Everyone is in the conference room! :)

When you opened the door to the conference room, instead of seeing grotesque crime scene photos of victims, you found the whole team there, each sporting a very cliché party hat. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as everyone shouted Happy Birthday! You made your rounds hugging and thanking everyone, however, you couldn’t help but notice that someone was missing.

“Hey, Pen, where’s Spence?”, you asked as everyone else was distracted in conversations.

“Oh, he um, he had something to do today, so he couldn’t make it”, she said sympathetically, noticing that the smile you were trying to force was gradually falling.

“Oh okay”, you said, looking around trying to appear happy.

“But um”, she said, turning to Derek, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head before stepping out of the room, “he gave us very special instructions on what to do”, she reassured. Your heart fluttered at her words, knowing that Spencer did this for you. Just as you were about to ask her what he said, the lights turned off. Derek came in holding a cake adorned with candles as everyone sang “Happy Birthday”. When he held the cake in front of you, you read what it said: Outside those doors, we might see anything. We could find new worlds, terrifying monsters, impossible things. And if you come with me… nothing will ever be the same again! Happy Birthday (Y/n)! You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you blew out the candles. The tenth doctor was drawn on the cake and you couldn’t stop rereading the quote of his that was written on top. You smiled back up at your team and thanked them for such an amazing birthday.

Despite the love and appreciation you felt from the rest of the team, you couldn’t help but spend the rest of the party overthinking, hiding it behind a façade. You didn’t want to read too much into the quote, but Spencer, who could probably, no definitely, recite every line from Doctor Who, had chosen this one for your birthday cake. You desperately wanted it to mean something, but if he hadn’t even shown up to your party, clearly you weren’t that important to him. When everyone had finished eating, you thanked them again and gave your hugs goodbye. You drove home and blasted your music, loudly singing along, in hopes of drowning out the thoughts of Spencer that swarmed your head.

When you reached your door, there was nothing you wanted more than to put on your sweats and sink into your couch. You slid your key into the deadbolt and pushed open the door. Expecting to walk into your desolate apartment, tears were brought to your eyes at what you found when you walked in. The lights were off and the windows had trash bags taped over them to prevent any sun from breaking the barrier and entering your apartment. You looked all around and were met with string lights adorning your ceiling as if there were a thousand glass stars littering your apartment. A projector sat on the floor near the entryway, projecting galaxies that were currently orbiting around the room. The twinkling lights drew your gaze onto the figure standing in the middle of the dimly lit room. You couldn’t make out his face, but you could tell who it was by the way his dark curls were illuminated by the intertwining auburn and cream-colored swirls of Jupiter that spun around him.

“Spence…”, you whispered, his name slipping out as you felt yourself being pulled towards him. You had missed him so much today, and at the sight of him, you couldn’t contain the relief that washed over you. You placed your hands on his arms, the soft fabric of his pinstriped suit felt so right under your light grasp. You looked down at his converse, laughing as you realized he was dressed as the tenth Doctor. Looking up at him and meeting his gaze, you suddenly realized how close you two were and that you were practically holding him in your arms. “This is amazing”, you chocked out as you quickly pulled away, wiping the tear that rolled down your cheek as you sheepishly smiled.

“That’s Doctor to you”, he teased, matching your smile tenfold.

“Sorry”, you laughed, “this is amazing, Doctor.” You looked around your apartment again, still stunned at how captivating it was. “Um, how did you do all this?”, you asked amazed.

“W-well, you mentioned you were going to spend your birthday watching David Tennant on your television, and I figured having the Doctor in person would be an even better way to spend your birthday… And then I figured what kind of Doctor would I be if I didn’t show you outer space”. You opened your mouth but were swiftly cut off by him, “And, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with everyone, but, I had to get you out of here and I thought you would enjoy spending some time with the team. Oh!”, he abruptly interjected, “did you um, get your cake?”, he timidly asked with a sheepish smile.

“Yes, I-I did. It was delicious by the way”, he nodded, “I missed you, but thank you for the party”, you said, just above a whisper, “but um, this, is amazing. I-It’s beautiful, Spence”, you smiled, admiring all the twinkling lights and planets that orbited the two of you, “really. Thank you”, you said, finally looking into his eyes that bore into you.

“You are beautiful”, he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. You were speechless. Your mouth opened a few times as you struggled to find a response. “I just thought you should know”, he added after your prolonged silence.

“The quote, on the cake. Did you um…”, you broke the silence between you two looking up at him expectantly.

“Yeah um”, he scratched the back of his neck as he smiled to the ground, “I uh, that line always makes me think of you”, your eyes widened at his words, “At work, we come across the most ‘terrifying monsters’, but, when I’m with you, I feel safe and when I look at you, I’m reminded that there are still amazing, beautiful things in the world, because, I-I think”, he cleared his throat, trying to hold back tears, “Because you are beautiful and amazing, and I am so lucky to have you in my life”. You were stunned. Your heart was beating so fast you feared he could hear it. Your silence, however, scared Spencer, because he didn’t want to lose you just because he had decided to spill his heart to you after breaking into your apartment. “I thought we could watch Doctor Who together”, he paused, still looking for any hint of a reaction from you, “but if not, I can just go. I didn’t mean to barge in like this and-”, he was cut off as you flung yourself into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he latched onto you, breathing a sigh of relief.

“No! Um, that, that sounds amazing”, you whispered into his neck. “I’d love nothing more than to be th-the Doctor’s companion”, you said, smiling against his soft skin.

“Good”, he laughed, “that’s, that’s very good”. You lifted your head off his shoulder, just enough to look into his eyes. Your smile slowly dropped as you moved in closer to his mouth, lightly brushing your lips against his. His eyes fluttered shut as you spoke against his mouth.

“But, as much as I love the Doctor, I would much rather be with my favorite doctor,” you smiled against his lips as you looked up, searching his eyes.

“I think that can be arranged”, Spencer mumbled against your lips, opening his eyes as your noses brushed up against each other. You looked into his velvet eyes and swore you could see the entire universe in them as they reflected the warm glow of every star hanging above your head. You moved in closer, finally connecting your lips. Warmth rose within you, radiating out through your chest as his lips moved against yours. His arms moved up and down your back, mapping every curve of your body as if he were drawing constellations onto your flushed skin. Your fingertips ran across his supple skin as you cupped his cheek, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth, granting him more access. With every breath you took, you inhaled him in even deeper, getting high off the notes of cinnamon and coffee that flooded your senses. He pulled you impossibly closer, pushing you flush against his chest, and the moan you elicited only intensified his grip. Your thighs clenched and your knees felt week as he began to kiss along your jaw. The warmth of his mouth trailing its way down your neck, caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “So beautiful”, he murmured against your sensitive skin, saying it to himself more than anything else. Each kiss caused a string of electricity to shoot throughout your system, as you ran your fingers through his deep curls, tugging lightly. His kisses gradually became less intense, and your breathing began to even out. He gave a final peck to your neck and then to your cheek and finally your lips, before leaning back to look you in the eyes. “Happy Birthday”, he said smiling at you, while his eyes gleamed with adoration.

“Thank you”, you replied, your brain still fuzzy from the kiss you two just shared, “for, um, everything.”

“Of course”, he smiled, still holding your gaze, “So um, do you want to watch Doctor Who…”.

“Yeah, yes”, you nodded, finally getting some grip back on reality. You walked over to the couch, Spencer’s hand still laced in yours. You sat down first and Spencer sat next to you, still grasping onto your hand as if you would disappear if he let go. You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both relaxed into the couch. As you were getting Doctor Who set up on the tv, Spencer took your hand into both of his and ran his fingers over your knuckles.

“I know I’m no David Tennant”, he said, causing you to turn and look up him, “but um, I-I just wanted to be clear that I, I like you, a lot”.

“I like you too Spence”, you smiled, “a lot”, you teased. “And, Dr. Spencer Reid is way better than any other Doctor in my book”, you kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush.

“Really?”, he asked, biting his lip.

“Really”, you reassured him.

“Even Matt Smith?”, he joked.

“Oooh I don’t know about that”, you said coyly, raising your eyebrows. Despite your joking manner, Spencer’s face still fell.

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah, he’s um-”, he rambled, looking down at his shoes.

“Spence”, you stopped him and put your hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at you, “I was just joking”, you said earnestly, making sure he understood. You searched his eyes as he slowly nodded. “When I said I like you, I meant I really like you, and only you, okay?”, he nodded again but remained silent, “I’ve kind of had a crush on you since my second day at the BAU”, you said smiling as a blush found its way to your cheeks, “and there is no one I would rather be with than you”. Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Your angelic voice echoed in his head as he pulled you towards his chest, enveloping you in a hug.

“You are the only person I want to be with too”, he said, pulling back so he could see your beautiful face. “And I’ve liked you since your first day at the BAU”, he smiled, crinkling his eyes. You let out a breathy laugh as you gave him a quick peck before snuggling back into him on the couch.

“Always have to one-up me, don’t you doctor”, you teased, and this time he laughed as he pulled you in closer to him, running his fingers along the side of your hip. As the episode began, you turned up to him again and pondered, “Speaking of one-upping, you took me to outer space on our first date, so I am very excited to see what you plan to do for our second”. You both giggled as he kissed the top of your head.

Finally feeling confident after your many reassurances, Spencer quipped back, “Someone’s eager, and who said anything about a date?”, he smiled, “this is just a birthday present”. You feigned being hurt by his words as you laughed.

“Dr. Spencer Reid”, you shook your head, “I told you, I’m your companion”, you smirked, causing him to laugh, “you are stuck with me”.

“Good”, he said, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled, “Because I am never letting you go”. He looked into your eyes as the Doctor Who theme song played in the background and you both smiled like idiots. You turned your attention back to the tv and held onto each other for the rest of the night. You fell asleep in each other’s arms as the stars twinkled above your heads and you spun in orbit with the planets that danced throughout the apartment.

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awesamkiller · 4 years

Text

Your Skin and Bones

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan (focus) All (secondary)

Romantic Ships: None!

Platonic Ships: All are good friends!

Inspiration Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQPirlS_L1U

Content Warnings / Triggers: Doctor Who (?), isolation issues, general angst.

Happy Birthday, Logan!

You can only watch Sherlock so many times.

And that’s many,

many,

MANY times, but still.

Eventually, you have to at least try a new series, or in this case, an old series. After the last main episode, and an Asides that completely lacked him among most of the others, he decided to spend his birthday alone. It’s evident that they can solve problems in their own way. His birthday was his day, and he wouldn’t spend it acting overly bubbly like everyone else does on their birthdays. Anyways, usually Patton had ‘woken him up’ (read: jumped on him screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) around 5 to 6am on his birthdays. He didn’t this time.

He started Doctor Who.

He liked it a lot, in the end! He really, really enjoyed it, actually, more than he thought he would have. He’d woken at 6am to try and fit a lot in, and he was more than happy he did. It was enamouring. Atop of that, Logan had even allowed himself to summon a small little side-plate that held a few cream puffs. They might not be handmade like what they all usually had on their birthdays, but it was a treat, one that he would pass up on any normal day. Occasionally, he’d find his focused mind drift like it had been pulled from its obsession by something important, but it never really registered what was occurring. It was auditory, likely, from the way his ears itched. Maybe it was just a weird frequency the Tv put out. It was pretty old, to be fair. That or he’s developing a ringing in his ears.

Then his body started to feel a tad odd, likely because he’d been sitting for so long. His legs must have been long numb by then, in his unicorn onesie. He’d been sat for around four hours already, it was already ten. As he got up for a quick stretch of his legs around his room, the fact he was quite alone did start to set in. They’d usually watch Sherlock on his birthday, all lumped up on the sofa like a pile of colourful sausages in onesies. One year, Roman slipped when he got up for drinks and put his head right through the TV, effectively putting an end to the on-screen gold that Logan so loved. It was rather funny, in hindsight.

The feeling didn’t die though, and he finally put his finger on it. He was being summoned. He was still in his onesie, he had the bedhead of the century and he’s being yanked upstairs to help with what he presumed was a problem, considering they’d forgotten his birthday for at least four hours so far. So he resisted, sitting back down with a much more uncomfortable expression as more people were tugging, until everyone was! He half-considered letting it go and letting himself rise up, before everyone, simultaneously, died off.

He supposed he wasn’t that needed after all. Entirely unsurprising.

He had about another episodes worth of peace before he was once again disturbed. Knock-Knock-Knock! Logan blocked it out.

Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock!

Logan didn’t even bat an eye.

Knock-Knock-Knock!

BANG!

Even Logan would have to acknowledge that, as it could hardly be considered a knock at all. More a bludgeon to his door. But that didn’t convince him to open it, no, quite the opposite, he daren’t approach it. What could cause such an urgency for presence of Logic?

BANG! BANG! BA- “Logan! Are you okay in here Kiddo?!”

Patton’s voice, distinctly followed by Remus’ gravelly and sharp, “Get your head out the door-hole, I almost bashed in your skull, Daddy!” Logan didn’t even have to hear the voices to know who they were. Remus was the only person in the entire mindscape to willingly call someone daddy, and Patton, the only one to call someone kiddo. With a few more bashes to his locked door, Remus’s final and un-needed whack, as he could have totally stuck his hand in earlier and unlocked it from the inside, sent him stumbling into Logan’s room from the weight behind his Morningstar.

“...Morning?” What else do you say when two people beat down your door at ten am?

“Oh! You’re okay! I thought you were upset!” Patton rushed over, cupping Logans’ cheeks like an over-protective mother hen clucking and cooing over a chick. He really did live up to the dad title.

“Why on earth would I be upset?”

“You skipped the morning of your own birthday party, nerd!” Remus informed, not in the most helpful of manners, “And you’re not even in your birthday suit, how disappointing!”

Logan rolled his eyes at that one, shrugging the dad-like side off. “You didn’t come knock. I figured to stay out of the way if you forgot, you know?” He spoke, calm and at peace apparently, with the fact his friends would simply forget his birthday.

“No-no-no-no-no! I didn’t wake you up early because when when I do you always grumble about being sleepy, so I let you sleep in this year!” Patton waved his hands. Logan burned red all the way to his ears at the miscommunication and the... ‘saltiness’, that he had let occur.

They might not always see eye to eye, but still, they’re family.

“Oh... Patton I’m so sorry.” Logan responded gently, “I didn’t mean to ruin your pla-”

“Nothing’s ruined!” Patton interjected, in a panic, “You gave us well needed time to set up actually, please come out now...?”

Logan looked at the Tv. At his bed. At his clothes, at his hair in the mirror, which Patton promptly attacked with a brush. Soon enough he was in his usual clothes and being whisked out the door. Sorry, Jodie Whittaker, you’ll have to wait. Doctor Who’s postponed.

The kitchen looked empty, as did the living room. That was until Virgil slid out from under the table, Roman half-stepped-half-fell from behind the TV, and Janus with his six stretchy arms lowered himself from the ceiling with loud, unified, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”s. As soon as Roman was successfully retrieved from behind the TV stand and everyone was ready, there were gifts to give.

All of them were sweet, more thoughtful than other years. A blue tie with a lighter blue confetti pattern. A big, big blanket with accurate constellations, all knitted. A book on greek and roman mythos, an interesting set of chemicals and equipment, and a seemingly amateur but sturdy handmade teddy bear, one of the button eyes replaced with an X stitch because the gifter evidently couldn’t retrieve a second button. Soon after, cake was served. It was nothing much, Logan despises fondant and royal icing, so it’s a plain chocolate cake with buttercream and a piped-on white chocolate ‘happy birthday, specs!’ over the top.

Soon, they settled on the sofa, and Janus began to fumble through the box of DVD’s, ‘hmm, sherlock, sherlock, where do you put that one-’ before Logan stopped him. “I have a different show to watch, don’t worry about it.” The man smiled, softly, as the others wondered curiously what could have caught the fanatics new interest.

...Yeah, after watching the first few episodes of David Tennants run, it made sense to them much more than it did before.

Yeah, maybe he had to restart all the way from the beginning again, but that was fine! It was time. Time with his family.

His FamILY.

#fanfic #fanfiction #logan sanders #logan sanders fic #logan sanders fanfic #happy birthday logan

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long-cosmos-overhead · 4 years

Text

Prompt: And since I saw you write for Barty Crouch Jr too (and I have a soft spot for him because.. David Tennant) could you write something with him in which he falls for Reader whos kind, gentle and affectionate towards him even though they barely know each other bcs shes part of a death eater family and he tries to protect her? And I would be eternally grateful for a kissing scene :3

Ugh David Tennant I love that man 👌

(I do not own Harry Potter or its characters/ gif not mine)

Sorry for the time this took

I promise those who have requested I haven’t forgotten about you I’m on it xx

Y/n. Such a simple thing was a name yet it made his stomach turn and his heart quench in desire. Barty had undoubtedly fallen for you he didn’t know when or even how all his life he never cared much for anyone yet here he was pawning after you. Each day he would become more and more consumed in his desire his mind always racing full of scenarios about you, having you, holding you, sometimes even simple things like talking to you. He wondered how your hand would feel in his, how your lips would feel upon his he was mad for you.

In truth he barely knew you but you were different anyone could see that. Unlike the savage Greyback, the twisted Bellatrix, the narcissistic Lucius you were kind and gentle you knew of the horrible things people had done yet you treated them as if they were normal. In fact Barty had never seen you treat anyone wrong. It was also well known that everyone liked you they trusted you even seeking comfort in you and you never faltered in your ways.

However what made Barty grind his teeth and growl in frustration was how you treated everyone equally. He was madly in love with you so much that he was loosing his mind. He did everything he could to go out of his way to be kind scrambling for your favouritism yet you flashed him a charming genuine smile that made his knees weak and thanked him sincerely. He loved it so much that he even put you in a position where he could assist you just to see you smile at him and him alone but he wanted more. Barty craved for you to see him as more than just a death eater.

You were scared to the point of salty tears sliding down your face and dripping off your chin. You barely made a sound aside from a few stray sobs, staring from your position on the bed at the shelf in front of you. The cracked spines of the books that lay heavy on the shelf stared back at your shaking body. Most had gone unread for years some even pushing far past decades. They weren’t anything special, an assortment of greys and browns. Once they had been someone’s treasure their pages turned eagerly, their spines cracked with use until they had nothing left to give. Stored away never looked at the same again just gathering dust and withering in age.

You glanced away squeezing your eyes shut feeling the moisture welling up in your eyes run down your cheeks. You felt completely helpless waves carrying huge quantities of insecurities crashed into your body seeping into any corner it could probe into. You were scared not of any monster but the world. It seemed so surprising, you served directly under the most feared wizard since Grindelwald and with that came dangerous people but God forbid anyone know you’d be mocked, ridiculed, humiliated and dropped from your services.

That’s when you thought of him. The man that captivated you trapping you in a steel grip that you yourself held but by god he was perfect. His brown eyes practically tormenting you. They held such unfathomable depth seeping with underlying torment and wrath yet they were the most perfect thing you’d ever seen. They drew you in like a drug making your heart flutter wildly at the simplest glance and your mind stray ever so far from reality. It may be covered up under layers upon layers but he had a heart.

Barty wanted love, he wanted praise, he wanted someone to love him to feel the world stop and melt away, stripped of sin. For breathless moments of otherworldly affections, to feel continents collide within the very essence of life, to watch the colours explode yet it all happen within one human body at the very look of another. He wanted you.

You needed his comfort so desperately. You only knew him a little, before your heart fell for another you’d have thought it an impossibility to desire someone you knew little about so much but here you were running through the empty halls towards that very man. You noticed almost nothing. Not the clothes creasing and moulding around your skin at every step you took, not the stray portion of the hallway that illuminated like stardust under the moonlight split by the window, you barely noticed you were running at all. Your heart carrying your body blinded by love.

Silver tear tracks were still evident on your cheeks as you came to a halt at his door. Your breath slightly quickened from running and your chest visibly rising and falling. Your mind barely processed knocking on the wooden door that stood a few inches from your face. For a short amount of time you understood none of your actions - some state of ignorant bliss heightened on the thought of love but that high had since dimmed and you were suddenly aware. All too aware. You noticed that what you could not moments previous. Everything.

You saw the dents and scratches that forever marred the door, the long looming corridor that seemed a lot more imposing than when you had been gliding though it freely. A heavy weight lay upon your shoulders, an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness. What had you done? You were too scared to think of any outcome your head dipping to stare at your feet as you were seemingly paralysed, even your clothes felt heavy.

You flinched as you heard the the latch click. The door swung open yet you could not find the power in any quantity to face the man that made your heart flutter. The silence that followed was filled with anxiety and dread. A deafening abstract concept.

“Y/n?” To any other his voice would inflict terror or authority but standing in front of him at night in baggy clothes cheeks covered by tear tracks he was gentle, soothing almost. Still you couldn’t face him.

“Barty I-,”

The words you tried to speak held less confidence than you quickly disappearing as though they wanted no part in your humiliation.

Two fingers slipped beneath your chin gently pressing your head up allowing your eyes to meet with his. Gentleness did not come easy to Barty but he’d rather cut off his hand before hurting you in any way. His eyes shifted from confusion to shock almost sympathy when he saw the silver lines down your cheeks.

“You’re upset.”

He said it as more of a statement than a question. Truely Barty had never seen you upset. The words he said were useless you and him both knew you were upset and his mind skipped to an answer as to why he stated such an obvious deduction perhaps to solidify the fact that you weren’t bulletproof. To realise you broke and needed fixing.

The words were so simple, so hideously obvious yet they reduced you to tears in front of him. You were expecting Barty to discard you, send you away after all what deatheater cried at two simple words yet you were quickly wrapped into his arms and pulled into his room. His hold was exhilarating your heart pounded inside your chest. He was clearly foreign to affection yet he was trying for you. He didn’t know what came over him when he held you in his arms but it felt right.

The fact you were sobbing into his chest shifted his mood considerably yet being able to finally hold you in his arms was the most complex feeling he’d ever been riddled with. It was a prefect feeling having your body pressed tightly up to his, you fit like two pieces of a puzzle. Your height made it so you were slotted up to him just tall enough for his chin to rest against your head and for his hands to weave through your hair. You allowed naturally for your body to be encased in his easily allowing him to curl around you and protect you from the world. A feeling he’d lusted and longed for for the moment he laid eyes on you.

You began to shift slowly removing yourself from his embrace. You didn’t want to by any means but you felt as if you’d overstayed your welcome the moment he opened the door. Barty had finally had you in his arms right where he wanted you he wasn’t willing to let you go anytime soon. He almost feared the loss of contact would destroy his very being. His hands tightened round your waist forbidding you leave his embrace.

“No, let me hold you.”

Your heart flipped quenching with love. Your body tingled in euphoria and you obeyed sinking into his chest once more. A few minutes passed yet they felt like a blissful eternity. You were still partially in shock that he even let you in and he was drunk on happiness of having finally got you.

He couldn’t hold back he wanted, needed you to be his. He didn’t know much of love but nothing in his life had felt more right. He twisted his neck a few inches to the side and pressed his lips to yours. It was exactly how he thought it would be and more. Like all the worlds colliding and time stopping a breathless exchange of pure love, no feeling in the world brought him closer to immortality than this. He was needy and rough expressing each desire within an exchange he hoped he’d have far many more times.

“I’ll protect you.”

@softheartedsnake

#barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr imagine #harry potter imagine #barty crouch jr x reader fluff #fluff #angst #ask #request #harry potter #barty crouch jr

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claudiafekete · 3 years

Text

This is another ordinary story of “how xxx fandoms changed my life” -

- or maybe not. you decide. I want to write it down. trigger warning for politics, discussion of sexual violence, mild gender dysphoria It’s also horribly long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

When I first came to tumblr, I had just graduated from APH. Short for Axis Power Hetalia. I learned about it in the form of manga. For years it was my everything - I learned what fanfic or fanart meant and I learned the basic online etiquette. As I grew in years, it accompanied me.

Until it didn’t.

Shortly after I fell into solangelo.

It’s a fun story, how I picked up PJO years after years of absence. My brother was whining about something written in Magnus Chase. “What do you think the Norse Gods were going to do to Percy that Annabeth was crying?” He demanded. I expressed my confusion. He kept on with his different theories and I made the decision to look it up online later.

My online search of Percy Jackson’s fate soon revealed something unknown to me before: solangelo. The first canon gay ship I ever knew. Therefore, at the ripe old age of 19, I threw myself into this endless hole called “tumblr” for the first time.

It was the most LGBTQ+ friendly place I had ever been. I joke you not. It was also the place where I was taught not only how a healthy relationship should look like, but also how sex should or could be like. You don’t learn anything healthy about sex in Chinese or Mandarin using fandom, at least during the years I was in them. There were rigid 攻/受(roughly translated as top/bottom) stereotypes that everyone rushed to squeezed their characters into them. A lot of time though both person might ship A with B, they wouldn’t interact because one thought A should top and another thought B should top. Their different topping designation resulted in depictions of the characters’ personalities so dramatically differed that you couldn’t recognize them as the same characters. Other than the refreshing relationship dynamics, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard offered me a chance to take a look at my gender identity. I had known that theoretically non-binary people existed outside of binary gender, but I hadn’t known how one might live as one or describe themselves as one. I’m not trying to claim that Alex Fierro’s story is the only story of non-binary people. I’m trying to say that it was the starting point for me to make exploration and find the label “agender” for myself.

I stayed in APH for 6 years. I had expected to stay in solangelo for longer.

Entered June 2019 with its whispers and anxious demonstrations. Entered folks pouring into streets in Hong Kong. Entered tear gas and facemasks and sticks and a bullet scarcely missing the heart and journalists beaten by police. Entered young students not of age disappearing mysteriously. Entered people dressed in white attacking citizens and not arrested by police. Entered dead bodies that were probably “被自殺 (being suicided)”.

Entered a city falling into the hands of tyrants next to your door, and you didn’t know how to help. You didn’t know what to do with yourself with your clean and spare hands. You were so far away from the frontline, you were angry and helpless and hopeless for that.

It was the first time I witnessed, first-hand, how the Chinese government directed the discussion online, so that it seemed as if there were random mobs who were disturbing the peace of Hong Kong and possibly taking money or being trained by US. “Bullshit. Would there still be so many kids hurt on street if we have received any kinds of training for this?“ Of course, the majority of Chinese people inland wouldn’t hear that. Hong Kong is a former colony. Any calls of outrage toward the present government must be made by disillusioned young people who were unaware of colonization and imperialism.

That was why I took refugee in Good Omens. I needed to run some where to stop myself from scratching myself to blood. I needed to some works for these clean and spare hands to do so that they wouldn’t pick up something destructive, such as a knife.

If the PJOverse fandom had felt the best place on earth, well, the Good Omens fandom lifted me into paradise.

I’ve never seen so much kindness being showed under one tag. The creators and actors were all kind and interacted with the fans in their own ways. We were encouraged to do everything, anything, to build art with it however we liked. We as fans were recognized. We were seen. We were ... cared for. It was overwhelming, in a good way. For that, I would be forever thankful to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Michael Sheen and so many others in the production. I would be forever thankful to artists who liberated body types and freed the ties between gender expression and genitals. I would be forever thankful for the fantastic creators out there.

Would it seem as if I’ve only cherished the mutuals I met in Good Omens fandom? It wasn’t my intention. There are friends I keep in touch long after I fell out of love with APH. There are mutuals I got to know through solangelo and I feel, I hope that we are friends. Everyone who has chat with me I do my best to remember. (Though I do left conversation in weird places, become so ashamed of my incompetency that I do not continue them.)

What I’m trying to say is, as good as the solangelo fandom was, I still ran into biphobic posts here and there. It was only once or twice – but it was a constant reminder that being bisexual didn’t seem “valid” to some of the other LGBTQ+ members out there. Who cares what cis-gendered, heteronormative people said? Bullets that shot from friendly fire hurt the worst.

Besides, with a large and vibrant fandom like Good Omens, it’s easier to feel less alone and more… seen.

Damn right. Even after writing more that 5000 words in English it is still so easy to fall back into the comfortable nest of mother tongue. I can read simplified Chinese characters as well as the traditional Chinese characters I grow up using. There probably will never be getting the accent right but soundlessly devouring words in front of a screen? I excel at that.

That was what’s happening when the days rolled into January, 2020. I flew to US as an exchange student and exchanged long letters with a young Chinese woman I met in Good Omens fandom. I’ve never felt so alone in life. English as in creative writing has never come more naturally for me. The words burst in my head and arranged themselves freely on screen or on papers. I’ve never felt more hopeful about my writing ability.

The days rolled into March, 2020.

The first time my mom told me to come home over home, I laughed. The second time, I frowned. Before she pleaded me for the third time, I had grabbed a ticket.

I hadn’t imagined the disease plaguing China and its neighboring countries would affect the whole world.

You lived the rest of the story. I fled back to Taiwan.

That was where Doctor Who came in. Or David Tennant. Such a strange time. For fourteen days I was the only living human in the house. I watched Casanova – or was it later? Hamlet definitely came before that. Then I could live with my family again. I handed in my homework and wrote in a different language than the people around me were speaking. My parents were working. My little brother was in school. When there was no one to talk to me I either read or watch Doctor Who to pass the time. I fell for Thirteen. I fell for twissy. Falling fast and hard and completely won over by their glamour.

I started internship. There were some small breaks where I could catch an episode or half, but never as much time as before. I dipped into fandom wiki and found that no matter how much research I did, there would always be details I overlooked simply because I could not afford hours watching all the episodes. No matter how hard I squeezed my schedule for time, no matter how much I devoted myself to the series, it would never be enough.

So I gave up, and let it go. For the first time in quite a while, I willingly gave up something for the simple reason of “I want to live a more comfortable life”.

Came summer. Damp air combined with biting heat and piles after piles of biochemical terms made life agonizing. An ordinary kind of pre-pandemic “agonizing” which felt like a luxury in a world that was ending.

Hong Kong fell.

It was bound to happen. Once I heard protestors fought their way into the legislature I knew, for almost an year I knew, nothing good would come out of this. CCP would never allow its subjects acting out of hand. With such open despise to the authority, CCP would take nothing but a full conquest at the end of it.

See where we are now. As long as you’re “interfering” the political climate “inside” China, it doesn't matter which nationality you hold or where you were or how long it has been since you made the statement. “According to the law”, China can come for you. No, better, it can tell your country to hand you over. What a clever empire. What a graceful empire.

What a horrifying empire.

With the news I spiraled down fast. I kept away from the young Chinese woman I was exchanging letters with, I kept away from any kinds of Chinese social media, and the worst of all, I kept away from Good Omens, for it was sweet and kind and hopeful, for it reminded me of a time where fighting seemed to make a difference. I was empty and exhausted and a husk. Something must come out to fill the void. Someone needed to paint me in colors so that the world wouldn’t notice I was fading away.

I was surprised at who took the brush.

After ten years, the first man I ever have a crush on strolled back into my life.

He was over thirty, but I always pictured him in his early twenties. Dark hair, eyes of grey or silvery blue. Loud laughter that sounded like a bark. Swift and elegant. Intelligent. Prideful. Stubborn. I embraced him as I’ve done ten years ago as a little child.

When I looked past him, I saw someone else.

Worn, weathered, with wry humor. Attentive and considerate. Tortured by the world yet never stop giving out kindness. Countless scars. Grey hair unfitting to his age. I didn’t pay him much attention ten years ago. This time, I looked.

Let me introduce you Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, my very first crush and the man who is too much like my last crush.

2020, a month before Fall semester started, I trekked cautiously, timidly back into Harry Potter fandom.

The fandom of August 2020 was very different from fandom of 2010. The lack of author, for one – it became mandatory to denounce the author’s transphobic statement and other bigotry setting. I’m glad that everyone is doing their best to make it a friendly place for minority groups. Though I’m afraid, by making it a white or black situation with short statements and no discussion, it wouldn’t really help people understand why she is wrong in this. However irrefutable the author’s guilt seems to us, it is not something obvious to those who are unfamiliar with the subjects.

But it does feel good to see blogs and fics with the introduction such as “If you support the author’s transphobic bullshit this place does not welcome you”. It feels reliving.

The second was, I found the type of work I’m actively pursuing changed.

Back when I was young – when I was so little I didn’t even know what the word “fandom” meant – I read Character x OFC and some M x M. During the APH period I read an alarming amount of M x M and countless historical AU. When digging through solangelo, beside the canon divergence stories, simple AU like coffee shop grabbed my attention. Coming out stories were my comforts. The best of Good Omens fics were either in canon verse discussing desires, bravery, humanity and mortality, or setting in an AU with the promise of sweet, fluffy endings. Doctor Who almost always focused on Time and Space. Love was twisted and so often tainted by anger. Monster and god were very alike.

I came a full circle back to the Marauder era, and found myself not looking for heroes, but for young fighters struggling desperately in a seemingly hopeless war. I looked for people who were frightened but never, never ever going down without a fight.

I used to find characters and events unfolding in foreign places, now I want characters who are close to what I am or what I want to be.

---

So, that’s it, my grand journey through multiple fandoms and basically a journey of self-discovery. It’s messy, sometimes painful, but always with so much joy blooming along the way.

Something doesn’t change. I’m still obsessed with words. I’m still a sucker for happy ending. I’m still wishing someone will come and love me the way I need to be loved.

Something does. I stop imagining that some magical power will come into my life and solve everything. I stop looking for others to save me from myself. I start believing that though wounds hurt, some of them do teach us to be a better person.

Long ago, I saw my friends and I as rabbits, without proper weapons to defend ourselves. That wouldn’t do. I thought. For my friends I’ll grow into a snake with fangs to protect them. Maybe I have grown into a snake. Maybe I haven’t. But I do hope I won’t stop fighting for those I love, with those I love.

I hope I won’t give up.

#APH #axis power hetalia #pjo #percy jackson #solangelo #tw: politics #tw: sex mention #magnus chase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #alex fierro #hong kong extradition bill #hong kong demonstration #good omens #doctor who #tw: personal review of pandemic #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #hong kong national security law

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