Stained Leather (Good Omens)

*explodes everywhere* hi

have you ever done ler eleventh doctor??

I didn't done...

Until today..!

A small drawing while I'm sitting on shift at a point where there are few clients, because I suddenly had a need for content with River

hi welcome

this blog is very messy and not very active. will organize eventually.

i am quite new to tumblr and i'm still trying to learn how it works.

a very beginner fic writer

always looking for new friends, don't be shy!

i like criminal minds, doctor who, good omens, supernatural, stardew valley and a lot lot lot lot more but those are the mains.

i have recently discovered i have a proclivity towards tickling. if you find it strange so do i. but i will be using this space to explore it. thank you and have an amazing day 💗

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fandom: supernatural

w/c: 2903

summary: Takes place right before the events of swan song. Dean takes a depowered Cas on a date. Pre-destiel.

an: first supernatural post! there is no getting over spn, everybody who's ever had business with that show makes dang sure of it. i'd also just like to say @wordstrings single handedly developed my frontal lobe. everything she's written is a masterpiece and a half.

~~~~~~~

Dean found Castiel in Bobby’s kitchen, staring discontently at the microwave with burrito in hand. Deciding not to make his presence known just yet, he leaned against the doorframe. This was probably Cas’ first time using one. He took a guilty pleasure in watching the angel try to use things he was unfamiliar with. He almost always does it wrong the first time. It amused Dean, who thought an angel’s knowledge was supposed to be infinite. He supposes the details get lost in it all, especially the ones that aren't critically necessary to pay close attention to.

There was so much about Cas that was, thankfully, unlike any other angel they’ve faced. For one, he wasn’t a sciolistic, know-it-all douche about humanity. He didn’t pretend to know everything. He wore all his confusion shamelessly, right on his face, in squints and tilted heads that didn't give a fuck about who saw how clueless he was. But he actually tried to understand it all, too. He always seemed grateful whenever Dean showed him how to work things he didn’t have to worry about before his tenure on Earth, like using a phone. The other angels would never take any kind of guidance from what they love to call 'filthy apes.’

Castiel frowned at the angry beep of the microwave after he tried to press a button while the door was still open. Dean smiled and mercifully stepped into the room, flipping it closed and nuking the food for him. Cas gave a shy thanks while Dean grabbed the beer he came inside for.

“So, you're eating now?”

“Apparently, I need to.” Cas sighed and itched at his eyebrow in irritation. As the smell hit them both, Castiel’s stomach rumbled fiercely.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sorry to hear that.” When the microwave beeped, Cas hungrily retrieved the burrito before Dean could issue a warning. He dropped it in surprised pain, where it mashed into a steaming pile on the floor.

“Ah- it’s hot.” Dean said too late. He held himself back from looking too sympathetic at the sad way Cas stared at the mush on the floor.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Cas said somberly.

“Well, usually you have it on a plate.”

“No, I mean…” Castiel sighed, in a way that was so unlike his usual, nonbreathing self that Dean had to bite back a smile. “I don't know how you do being human.”

He sipped at his beer, shrugging. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Everything is so.. so much. I feel so much more than I ever have.” He stared forlornly at his fingers. “Every discomfort and pain. Sensations that are both limited and amplified by a three-dimensional body. Hunger..” Cas glanced at Dean. “I don’t know how to manage.”

Dean shifted, unsure of what to say. He's never been anything more than human, he couldn't really understand the loss. To be stripped away from everything you've known and turned into something.. less. Something you've only ever watched. He imagined it’d be like if Dean were to turn into a still drawing, or a cartoon. Unable to move or do anything he’s used to doing existing with a Z-axis.

But he’d always treated Cas like he was just some dude anyway. Maybe he shouldn't, and whenever he thought about what exactly Cas is, he really really shouldn't act as if he's just the homeschooled kid. But it comes so easily. Dean’s always teased those he admired, it's how he shows his love.

The surface part of his brain told him to play offended, to tell Cas off for acting like being human was something so awful. But he didn't. Instead he took Cas by the wrist of his coat, pulling his hand under the sink as he drew cold water from it.

“Look, I know it sucks. Especially now. But.. it’s not like you're useless.” Dean let go of Cas abruptly, sheepishly aware of how he’d held on. “Hell, me and Sammy would be one big tumor right now if you hadn't shown up against Pestilence when you did.”

Cas flexed his fingers under the running water. “Right. That was unpleasant too.” He said dryly.

Dean scoffed at his attitude. “C’mon. Bug bites and burns and getting sick are just one part of the experience. Being human, it’s- well it isn’t all bad. If we had the time..” He cut himself off.

It surprised Dean how bad he felt over Cas potentially never getting the chance to experience earthly delights. The small joys that make it worth carrying on, even with all the horrors that surround them. His heart ached over their fate for the millionth time.

“Dean?”

He slapped the water off. “Fuck it. Come on.”

—-

“Are you going to try to take my virginity again?”

Dean jammed his keys way off the mark of the ignition, dropping them on the floor of the Impala.

“What?! I-I wasn't- that's not. You don't-” Dean stuttered, face blazing. He retrieved the keys hastily, pointedly not looking at Cas, who was no doubt eyeing him warily.

“Okay, that wasn’t what I was doing. That was- well, I was, but I wasn’t. Whatever. No.” He shook his head hard. “I’m taking you to get some real food.” Cas’ stomach instantly growled again just at the mention of food, drawing a displeased frown from Cas and a chuckle from Dean.

The drive was quieter than usual. He looked over to the passenger side, only to see Cas slouching. It was ever-so-slight, but recognizable enough when the angel usually sits ramrod straight at all times. Dean wondered if his joints ached now where they didn't before.

"You okay?"

Cas blinked, very humanly. Seeing it happen made Dean realize Cas never really blinked when he was at full strength. Never gave him a break from those unsparing eyes.

“We should be preparing for the fight..” Cas murmured.

“We are. A big, greasy warrior’s meal is just what we need to nourish our bodies. You can’t stop the apocalypse on microwaved burritos.” Dean huffed. “Believe me, this is necessary.”

They ordered their food to go, a couple burgers with fries and two milkshakes. Castiel was bent on trying to ruin a nice thing Dean was trying to do. He caught Cas looking in the paper bag on his lap with too much longing. Dean lost count of how many variations of ‘I don’t understand. Why can’t I eat this right now?’ or ‘are we there yet?’ Cas would repeat on the drive to their destination. To stop the griping, he let Cas take some fries, so long as he didn't use the ketchup and inevitably make a mess. He taught Cas to dip the fries into his milkshake, which earned him a skeptical look, but he listened anyway. He nodded in approval and commented on the delightful sweet/salty contrast.

They finally arrived at the top of the overlook, just in time for the sky to begin transitioning into warmer hues. He shut off the car, replacing the sound of the rumbling engine and music with a serene silence. It added something to the beauty of the sweeping view of the Badlands.

“Bobby took me and Sammy here the first couple times dad left us with him. Sam wouldn't stop crying.” He left out the details of his own explosive tantrums. “Back then, being left in a stranger’s care without knowing when dad would be back was as close to the end of the world as it got. But this view made it all a little better.”

Dean took his eyes off the view, shifting them over to Cas. He flushed when he saw Cas was already staring at him instead of the sunset.

“Uh, it’s nicer o-out there.” Smooth. He snatched the bag out of Cas’ hands and exited the car to sit on the hood.

Castiel followed him out, butt-scooching awkwardly next to him as Dean dug around in the bag. Dean huffed. “Man… did you seriously eat my fries?” Cas shrugged so unapologetically he couldn't help but laugh and shove the burger into his hands, hands that immediately started ripping into it.

Dean didn't know why he expected Castiel, Angel of the Lord, who used to fly above the heavens and the Earth for business just last week, would’ve been impressed by not even the most impressive view in South Dakota. But every time Dean took his eyes off the pinkening sky, Cas was only looking at him. Dean should've felt hurt by his blatant disregard of the 'food and a view' he drove 20 miles out of his way for. But he didn’t.

Dean spoke with his mouth half full. “Y’know, I came here after I didn’t say yes to Michael.”

Cas swallowed the ravenous bite he took from his own burger, which was already almost entirely gone. Man, this human Cas was giving Famine Cas a run for his meat.

“You did?”

“I was so close to saying yes, Cas. It wasn’t easy. Fuck, none of it’s been easy. Going against what angels say is meant to be? And as much as I wanna believe I’m always right… sometimes their words would get to me. I mean, you'd think they’d know better about what's right than something like me…”

Cas finally seemed entranced by the sunset as it reached just above the rocks. “I know how you feel, Dean.”

“Yeah, I guess you would.”

“You did the right thing. Because of you, this cliff that's lasted over a millennia will remain after tomorrow.”

Dean sucked in a breath.

“Because of us..but yeah. Who gives a shit about paradise without being able to live first?” He finished his food and tossed the wrapper into the paper bag. He laid back against the hood of the car, arms resting up to cushion his head. The first few stars of the night started to make their appearance. He smiled when Cas copied his pose, as the angel never looked any semblance of relaxed before, and chuckled at the deeply content sigh that followed.

“Agreed. The food was incredible. As is this place, Dean. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well. Now that you’re mostly human, you should at least get a feel of what you’re fighting for.”

Much more sentimentally than he’d prepared for, Cas replied “I already have.”

After a moment of silence, he followed up with “Though I’m not entirely convinced it was worth the wait to eat.”

“Gluttony is a sin, Cas.” Before he could stop himself, one of the hands beneath his head reached out to give Cas’ stomach two quick squeezes.

“Hehe.”

For the briefest moment, he feared that Cas was rejecting his admittedly affectionate touch, immediately placated when he looked beside him.

Cas shifted away with a subsiding grin on his face. He had hardly ever seen the angel smile, despite Dean basically never not making jokes. The closest Cas gets to smiling is the occasional, unmistakable reverence in his eyes that don’t quite reach his lips all the way. But there for a moment he saw a big grin, with shiny teeth and all.

“Huh. I think this mostly human you is ticklish now.” He stated as casually as possible.

“Hmm. Don’t be ridiculous.” But he wasn’t fooling anybody. Dean saw the grin, the big stupid grin that he never saw his angel do before.

He hummed, keeping his eyes on the stars. Nonchalantly, he tried to reach over to Cas' stomach again, but was caught by the wrist by a strong hand.

He smiled quizzically at Cas, who was smiling back at him. At him, because of something he did. Dean made him smile.

Things escalated after that. He shifted to sit up, in an instant he dove his other hand towards Cas’ torso. That hand was caught before it could land too, but Dean succeeded in startling a low giggle out. That fueled the giddiness rioting inside him.

This was ridiculous. Dean was being ridiculous. How sweet that laugh was was ridiculous. Cas hardly smiles, but he never laughs. It lit his body up with a crazed energy, like seeing a comet pass by, one that hasn’t in thousands of years, and won't again for a thousand more. It was rare and magical. He felt like a little kid, chasing that comet down the street.

Dean pushed hard against Cas’ hands, frantically reaching and clawing and wiggling his fingers at the slim space of air around his body, desperate to make contact.

“Ah- Get off of me! Stop doing that!” Cas grinned, arms starting to shake from the combination of holding up Dean’s body weight and anticipatory laughter.

Dean continued to wrestle, joyously demanding through gritted teeth “Just let me tickle you! It’s part of the experience!"

Cas managed to get a knee in between them both, shoving Dean hard enough to roll him off the car. He planted his feet on the opposite side of where Dean brushed himself off, bowed in a stance prepared to fight. Dean couldn't keep any of his exhilaration out of his grin, leaning down as threateningly as possible.

“Why’re you so scared? I didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to try that before.”

Cas panted nervously. “I-I don’t know. It's instinctive. What you're going to do, it's- ah!” He shouted when Dean feigned toward him, defensively curling his arms up. Cas shook his head, frustrated and no doubt confused by his reaction.

“Aww, Cas, don't you trust me?” Dean skipped side to side, unable to keep still. There must be something in an angel’s laugh, something addictive that Dean couldn't stop himself from tweaking out about. There could be no other reason he was so excited to tickle a grown man.

Dean saw the trenchcoat swish up before he really saw Cas’ body move, and suddenly they were fighting each other to the ground. With a heavy forearm pinning Dean's chest, he felt fingertips tapping rapidly up and down his side and, okay, Cas has definitely never done this before, but it was effective enough to get Dean giggling.

“Heh- w-what are you- doing??” Dean snorted, totally endeared by the strange, very Cas way he was trying to tickle. Cas looked delighted.

“I was worried this trait was something only new humans shared. Babies, young children, recently fallen angels. But it looks like you haven’t grown out of it.”

“Screw you, you're doing it wrong!” He laughed, managing to reach up to dig into Cas’ ribs.

The angel’s yell echoed throughout the overlook, instantly retreating off of Dean to curl into himself, but Dean’s hands followed.

Giggles streamed out of Cas helplessly as Dean expertly provided a demonstration and oh, he wanted to cry. If the laugh before was a comet, this was a full blown meteor shower. Cas flipped onto his belly, trying to crawl away while also protecting access to sensitive spots with his trench coat. Dean grabbed his leg and yanked, enveloping it into a tight three-limb bear hug and relentlessly squeezed at his thigh with his fingertips.

Holy shit, Cas lost his goddamn mind. His hands slapped the ground while he laughed his head off, begging Dean to let go. The sound was bright and unexpected, at least an octave higher than the pitch he uses when speaking.

“Ain’t this awesome, Cas?? You like being human yet?”

Dean didn’t get a response besides a rapidly shaking head. Cas writhed on the ground with an even stronger bout of cackles, and suddenly Dean was the one overwhelmed. His insides flared with an intense kind of joy, and he found his own cheeks hurt from smiling. Cas was laughing hard, and Dean was loving it so much.

He spaced out the tickles in random pulses, a method he personalized and perfected, knowing all too well how maddening the feeling must be.

“Deeaan- AAAAHA! YOU HAVE TO LET GO!”

Dean wasn’t planning on that for awhile, but found himself rolling away with a wheeze when, despite the stronghold, there was just enough give for Cas to reel back and effectively kick him in the nuts.

They both lay on their backs, curled inward, catching their breaths and trying to recover. The sun had set completely while they were playing, but the stars twinkling dimly over them was just as welcome of a sight.

“Dean, why did you do that?” Cas panted, but Dean could still hear the smile.

To hear you laugh. “To teach you a lesson! Hahh, ow..”

“In what?!” Cas sounded exasperated.

“In letting loose. You should have some fun for once- at least once in your life.”

“So tickling is fun for you?” Cas asked, and Dean’s sure he didn't mean to make it sound judgy, but with the exasperation still in his voice Dean went bright red.

Dean gaped. “Huh? I mean- well, uh, tormenting you is. Yeah, really great fun. What about- did you- was it fun?”

Cas took a beat to think about his response. “It was.. thrilling. I'm glad to have experienced it.”

“Well, you're welcome. I’ll do that anytime. All the time. God, you were great.”

Cas hummed in a low voice. “I did enjoy it. I enjoy trying new things. Dean, is it more fun in the getting or the giving?”

Dean blushed, about to make a quip at the innuendo, until Cas ambushed him yet again with unrenderable speed. They wrestled under the stars, laughter echoing in bounces throughout the cliff.

it’s not so bad here

fandom: criminal minds

w/c: 2155

pairing: platonic BAU (mostly prentiss and morgan), spencer reid

summary: perspective of spencer: on the jet ride home after a long case. The team is so tired they get a lil silly. fluff + minimum angst I mean it is spencer’s brain.

a/n: this is quite literally my first time for everything, my first time using tumblr and my first ever fanfiction. i had a lot of fun so perhaps expect more maybe?? I want to thank the amazing @nhasablogg for being the biggest inspiration and just so cool honestly. they helped a lot with this work and have just been the kindest person ever!!! anyway pls read the following with all this☝️in mind.

~~~~~~

Spencer never really got used to flying. The team was currently thirty-six-thousand-eight-hundred-sixty-four feet above what Spencer assumed (or more accurately, calculated) would be Tennessee based on flight patterns from Dallas to Quantico and the amount of time they’ve been in air for. Which was roughly three hours, forty-five minutes, six seconds. Seven. Eight. They had about three more hours to go.

The pressure was building in Spencer’s ears and he grimaced, swallowing hard in an attempt to pop them. He always felt a pang of anxiety whenever any pain came to his head, as his memory would replay his mother’s cries for relief during bad episodes.

There was one night when Spencer was eleven, experiencing his first true migraine after finishing his college applications. It was one of the few times Spencer remembered his mother taking care of him instead of the other way around, she was almost completely lucid. His fear was much stronger then, and while he was a boy-genius, his brain was still biologically too immature to handle it.

“I’m dying, mom.” The corners of his eyes wet with tears. His mother smiled at him. It wasn’t often that Spencer behaved his age like this.

“No baby, your head is just too full, and your skull is too small to contain it. The pain is just your head expanding, working to grow and stay ahead of your thoughts.”

“Actually, your brain can’t be too big for your skull. There’s just a blood vessel swelling, and that’s putting pressure on the surrounding nerves which is making the muscles around my skull tighten and causing…” he groaned in frustrated pain. His mother stroked his hair soothingly.

“Would you listen to your mother for once, Spencer? Just go to sleep, you can’t feel the world in your sleep, you know. Go somewhere other than this reality, where your head isn’t constantly working. Relieve some of that pressure... It’s too stressful here, isn’t it?” A far too familiar distant look crossed her eyes for a moment. He rushed to retrieve her.

“Mom.. would you stay with me tonight?”

She returned her son’s gaze. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

His pain seeped out with every stroke, as if his mother’s fingers were magically sucking it out from his skin. As he fell asleep, he found that she was right. He didn’t feel anything. It was like traveling through time.

—————

The case in Texas was particularly rough. Over the past five days, the team got maybe a total of eight hours of rest each. And as far as successes go, they’ve gotten better wins. As a headache creeped up on Spencer, he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the jet couch for a nap. He fell asleep pretty quickly, ready to skip through the headache until he was in Virginia again.

But a funny sensation on his right foot caused his leg to jerk in. I thought I couldn’t feel the world in my sleep. He stirred to see Prentiss standing at the end of the couch.

“I like your socks, Reid.” She said, before wiggling her fingers over his left pink-and-purple striped sock.

“Hey!” He pulled his other leg in and smushed it against the cushion to smother the feeling. He checked his watch, the jet couldn’t be landing already? “What’d you wake me up for?”

“I couldn’t help myself. Purple’s my favorite color.” She grinned at his reaction, before it faded into a frown. “Hang on, now that you’re up though, how come you always get the full couch to sleep on?” Morgan leaned over from his seat, invested in the conversation.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say something about that bull.” He craned his neck, exaggerating the pain of sleeping upright.

“Reid is the youngest,” Hotch said from out of nowhere, neither against him nor in his defense. Spencer hadn’t even noticed him watching. Had they all been watching him sleep? Rossi continued for Hotch, “I suppose he assumed he got first rights to the couch for being born last. And you all let him.”

Hotch went back to the paperwork in his lap, diligent even while running on no sleep. “No, what about Ashley Seaver? She was younger than Reid,” he said. Definitely against him.

“And he still took the couch. Like a gentleman,” said Rossi.

Suddenly, Spencer felt very ganged up on.

“Is that right?” Morgan squinted at Spencer as if he stole something precious from him.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Prentiss said. “We can’t let him get away with this anymore.”

At first, he was confused by the rare playfulness of his coworkers, especially from Hotch adding to the banter after the crazy, long week. Then he realized; everyone was sleep deprived and filled with a goofy, delirious energy. And while they weren’t able to catch the unsub, they were able to return a young girl back to her family - traumatized, but albeit unharmed - something they saw far too little of. The feeling left everyone more fuzzy than anything, it outweighed the disappointment of losing the unsub. Reuniting a family always strengthened his own, Spencer thought. Perhaps that fuzziness and fatigue was expunging all the professionalism they maintained while the case was ongoing.

And now Spencer - who was just sleeping soundly on the couch that everyone was hungry for - was beginning to feel that fuzziness himself. He faced his back towards his team as he pulled his cover up to his chin and closed his eyes.

“If you wanted it, you should’ve gotten to it first.”

At that, he heard Morgan rise and make his way toward the couch. The blanket was ripped off him dramatically. He kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth to snore lightly. His snore lasted half a second before the sound was abruptly cut off, immediately snapping his mouth shut in a toothy grimace and slamming his elbow down to his side.

“Get your ass up, Reid,”

“No.” He buried his face into the back of the couch, trying to hide his smile as if the way his elbow followed each of Morgan’s delivered pokes didn’t give him away. Reid stiffened a bit more, he focused on schooling his reactions and moving less. If he started laughing, there was no way they would stop, probably even after he gave up what they wanted.

“C‘mon, it’s time to wake up.” His resolve began to crumble when Morgan tasered both sides of his ribs. “Share with the rest of us.”

“Ahhh-ha! Stop!” He huffed out a laugh before holding his breath to stop himself. His face quickly flushed as he wiggled on the couch.

“You know, everyone else sits during the whole flight. As a courtesy to the rest of the team. Except for you-” He accentuated by digging into his ribs again, causing another yelp and laugh to slip. “-who’s just sleeping here like a baby. What’s up with that?”

“Derek-“

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Reid? You’re not ticklish, are you?” Prentiss cooed as if nobody could tell he would be just by looking at him.

That’s all it took to crack him. Once the hysterical laughter began he couldn’t stop it. Like a defense mechanism, his brain started working in overdrive to apply logic to best overcome this assault. It took no time to figure out he could never physically stop Morgan; in terms of strength he was far outmatched.

Well, tickling is essentially the body’s response to unpredictable stimuli, so theoretically he could dull the sensations by predicting the attacks. He could trick his brain into believing he was tickling himself. He applied it in a fraction of a second.

All he did was swat at Morgan’s hands in an awkwardly gentle manner, unable to take hold of them. It really did absolutely nothing. Spencer wondered if he were one of the few who could tickle himself.

Before he could think of another solution, Prentiss grabbed one of his arms and hoisted it up above his head.

“No no no, wait wait doN’T-“

Being able to predict was proven a completely worthless tactic. Morgan tickled under his arm and he screamed. His ears finally popped and he could hear the sounds of his own bright laughter at its true pitch. His defense mechanism was shot, as if Morgan’s fingers were sucking out any ability to form a useful thought.

“Oh my god, how’d an eagle get so high up here?” Prentiss teased before breaking down herself.

Spencer wailed and curled his legs in protectively. When that did nothing, he kicked and pulled down at his arm. When that did nothing, he fell back in a whiny giggle in an attempt to garner their sympathy. That did nothing but encourage them.

“Hotch!”

Hotch finished his note, glanced very briefly at his team before returning to his work with the slightest of smiles. Spencer felt betrayed. Supervisory special agent my AAHHAA-

“Oh oh, what’s going on? It sounds like fun, let me see,” JJ turned the laptop over to show Garcia what was happening: Spencer flopping red in the face with Morgan practically sitting on him, Prentiss crouching - legs wobbly from her own laughter - behind Spencer’s head, still holding onto his arm.

“Oh geez, Spencer. How did I not know you were ticklish! Because of course you are. What did he do to deserve this? Did he cheat at Go Fish again?”

Upon seeing Garcia’s grin and his own disheveled form mirrored back at him, Spencer felt embarrassed. If anyone was going to make this a recurring experience, it would be her. He wasn’t totally against the idea, which made him blush furiously harder.

“Okay, okayokay! Y-you can have the couch. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” Prentiss let go and Spencer squirmed out of Morgan’s grasp, falling to the floor of the jet. He stayed there catching his breath in high-pitched giggles, bewildered by what just happened. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Hotch and Rossi, who stared down at him with immense amusement.

“Thanks for the help guys,” he exhaled, exhausted. They both shook their heads with fond smiles.

“I trusted my agents could handle an internal conflict on their own,” Hotch said.

“You mean manhandle..”

He looked to Morgan, who was settling comfortably on the couch with Reid’s blanket, Prentiss cuddling next to him. He rubbed his sides and looked down at the ground, defeated.

“There’s plenty of room for all of us, big guy,” Prentiss offered her hand, inviting him to the couch. Spencer took it with a smile and sat down awkwardly with his hands resting on his thighs. She draped the blanket over the three of them.

“I’m sorry for being a couch hog.”

“I’m sure you are,” Prentiss snickered.

“It’s alright, Reid, you seem like you always need the sleep. We were just having fun. Did we go too far?” Morgan asked sincerely, arm around Emily and hand on Reid’s shoulder.

“Nah.. I-I had fun too. I mean, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. I don’t think you guys have either actually.”

“Yeah, well, you did look really funny.” Prentiss said.

Spencer nudged her with a smile, earning him a poke which he quickly followed with a soft noooo don’t.

Morgan scratched the side of his head, mostly to teasingly get his attention. But it felt nice. “Start preparing for a lot more of that.”

“Hmm.. my mom used to do this for me.”

“Tickle you?”

“Uh, no. Stroke my hair. Whenever I got a bad headache, she would tell me to sleep, and then she would pet me until I did.”

“Do you have a headache now?”

“Earlier, a little.”

Without saying any more, Morgan patted down his (now) short hair before stroking up and down soothingly.

“Like that?”

Spencer slumped over and began fake-snoring. Morgan withdrew his hand and sat up a little straighter, which immediately woke him back up “I’m kidding I’m kidding I’m kidding please just- keep doing what you were doing.” They returned to their original positions after Morgan shot him a warning look.

Prentiss rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his own head back against the couch and allowed himself to relax. The reality of Emily being there with all of them suddenly hit him. Countless nights he begged for her death to be reversed, to be a hoax. To be replaced even. Back then he wished to go to another reality, somewhere without the pressure and the stress, somewhere he couldn’t feel the world. But now, how lucky was he for her to be returned, for her to be truly safe and sound and laughing with them again? He would rather be nowhere else.

He checked his watch, there was two hours left of the flight. The three of them fell asleep very quickly, but rather than try to skip through time, Spencer savored the moment.

he's a ten but the bbc keeps calling him the fourteenth doctor

Now gracefully strung by your hand

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Derek/Spencer

Anonymous said: Prompt (fits in your existing ‘verse if you want): Spencer Reid on a low-effort case getting distracted by the others' hands while they work bc he’s thinking lee thoughts. Mayhaps Morgan or one of the others notices and does something about it 🥰

A/N: References this fic!

Words: 1.2k

Derek noticed more now. It was thrilling, in a way, to look back on past interactions and pinpoint exactly when Spencer could think of nothing but tickling, even for just a fleeting moment. And Derek knew he probably wasn’t misreading the moments, especially now that he knew exactly how Spencer was like when the thought suddenly gripped him. The lee mood, as he’d learned it was called (and which his usage of always made Spencer embarrassed in the best way). He probably didn’t associate handcuffs with it, being in the FBI and all, but Derek could remember one particular instance where he’d been joking around with him, way back when, and had asked to cuff him to see how well Spencer would survive if the need ever arose.

“I’ll be gentle,” he’d told him, and Spencer had blushed in a way Derek hadn’t yet understood.

“You thought I was gonna tickle you, weren’t you?” he asked him one day, having remembered it.

“No.” Spencer was bright red then too, but he seemed honest as he met his gaze. “I thought of it, but it- it wasn’t just that.”

“Oh?” Derek grinned. “Was it me holding you down over the table that distracted you?”

Spencer shifted in his seat, eyes now on the wall behind him. “You’re terrible, Derek Morgan.”

“Mm, you love it.”

The most innocent and captivating display of Spencer being caught up in this type of mood Derek noticed accidentally. Spencer seemed to be zoning out, staring at something for so long that Derek was certain he wasn’t paying attention to what he was watching, until he realized it was hands. And then he kept noticing it. Spencer’s gaze innocently on Hotch’s flexing hand pointing to a map. Spencer’s gaze following Emily’s fingers leafing through a case file.

He found him in the conference room one day, where Garcia was showing him something on the computer. Clicking, pointing, tapping, all the while Spencer was watching the blur of her wiggling fingers. Derek could imagine what he was thinking, caught up in it without meaning to, all wide eyed, all innocence.

“Were you watching her hands?” he asked with a laugh and Spencer jumped, face pinkening so quickly in that delicious way Derek adored.

“She has nice nails,” he said, and maybe Derek would leave it at that had he not understood what exactly that meant.

“Mm, they’re long. I bet it would tickle like crazy if she ran them over your belly.”

“Derek, oh my god, not here.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Derek let out a laugh. “I do know why. I just like seeing you get flustered.”

Spencer huffed, but there was no coming back from that blush.

*

“Do you ever watch my hands?”

Spencer didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. “Sometimes. A lot of times.” He flushed and averted his eyes. “Most times.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t help it.”

“Well, you do know exactly what these hands can do.”

“Derek.” He said it softly, more out of habit than a plea for him to stop. They were alone. Spencer could indulge.

Derek too.

“Do you picture them running up your spine?” Derek demonstrated by stroking the air, index finger slightly extended, moving slowly over something invisible. “Or maybe-” He flipped his hand over and wiggled his fingers. “-gently stroking your chin? Tell me.” Spencer was bright red now, but he wasn’t looking away. “Do you ever tickle yourself and pretend it’s me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. It pleased him. “Even when you’re around.”

Derek faltered. “But you could just ask me.”

“I know, I just-” Spencer shrugged, pulling at his sleeves. “Sometimes I feel silly asking. And sometimes I don’t really want the entirety of it anyway. Sometimes just the idea is enough.”

“I see.” Derek had to admit the image of Spencer lying in bed with Derek watching tv and slowly tracing his fingers over his own sensitive skin was kind of hot, to put it boldly. “If you ever want me to be quick and gentle, I can. Or if you want me to air tickle you.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Spencer let out a laugh, something soft and slightly panicked. “I’m still not used to talking about it so casually.”

“I can make an event out of it, don’t worry. July 16th. Caught Spencer looking at Garcia’s hands.”

“Shut up.”

“July 18th. Got him to admit he tickles himself.” Derek laughed as Spencer shoved him, fingers automatically going for his ribs. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to steal your job.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it when I’m annoying.”

Spencer huffed, but didn’t deny it. Derek reached out experimentally and stuck a finger into Spencer’s neck, earning a giggle, shoulder rising to stop him. “H-hey.”

“You really think I was gonna leave you alone? I’m in a ler mood.”

“Oh my god, please shut up-”

“Shh, let me tickle you. Please.”

Spencer was still giggling from the fingers on his neck. “F-fine.”

“Thank you so very kindly for your sacrifice.” He pulled his hand free, wiggling the fingers in front of Spencer’s face. “Watch them.”

“Derek.”

“Just for a moment, and imagine what they will do, okay? Because they love the attention.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. Derek knew he would probably kill him one day. He was fine with it.

*

Watching Spencer watch hands calmed Derek down, too. He noticed it on the jet one day, feeling anxious and exhausted after a draining case, and so he’d turned toward Spencer like he usually did and found that Spencer was already watching him. Or watching his hands, gaze flickering between them and Derek’s face and while he did a good job of not flushing Derek caught the telltale sign of him being embarrassed in the way his body shifted. He wondered if Spencer longed for him to wash the week’s hardships away with his fingertips on his ribs, or if he was simply so used to watching certain parts of people that it had become a habit.

Derek relaxed under the gaze either way, wiggling his fingers experimentally and being rewarded with a kick to his leg as Spencer looked away without a word. Hotch sent him a questioning look as Derek laughed, seemingly out of nowhere.

Most times he caught Spencer watching other hands, though. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel jealous about it, but he didn’t. He found it cute. And entertaining. Thanks to the case which had brought them together in the first place everyone knew that tickling was a topic for Spencer. A sensitive topic, maybe because he’d gotten captured by the tickle UnSub, or maybe because he’d known more about the topic than they’d expected him to. Derek hadn’t talked to anyone else about it, because frankly he respected Spencer too much, so he wasn’t sure if anyone had pieced it together. But no one really tickled him, other than Derek. Maybe they found they couldn’t after the case. Maybe they felt it was Derek’s job.

But Spencer kept watching, maybe not on purpose, maybe dreaming more than paying attention. But each time Derek caught him earned him a blush. And how could Derek not love that?

alright my next post ain’t nobody going to be able to predict this

Checkmate

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Morgan, Hotch, Reid

Anonymous said: so for lee!reid, could it be that he’s constantly bragging abt how good he is at chess, and hotch and morgan tickle him in an attempt to (lovingly) bring down his ego

Words: 630

“Checkmate.”

“Oh, come on.”

Reid seemed to try, to his credit, not to gloat, but Morgan knew this scenario all too well. Had seen it with both himself and other members of the team. The only person who rarely got to see Reid brag about winning chess was Gideon, but Reid probably wouldn’t be gloating at Gideon anyway.

He watched him now, annoyance rising slowly inside of him as Reid bit his lip to keep from smiling, eyes downcast, looking so goddamn smug that Morgan nearly angered, having siblings and all. Maybe it was because he had siblings that he found himself unable to not take the bait. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t,” Reid said matter of factly. When he looked up he seemed earnest, which made Morgan huff. “I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t be so goddamn smug about it.”

Reid turned to Hotch, who was sitting beside him with his gaze stuck on the case file. “Tell him you can’t cheat at chess.”

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hello this is my first post ever the following will be me testing out absolutely everything please stay tuned with patience